For a long time, the chicken stayed in Kenosha.
As she does every year, my sister-in-law had put in an order with the farmer this fall, and we asked her to get us a couple of birds as well. But here in Chicago, for months, the freezer was so full of ice-pack mittens and booties (which you wear during chemo to keep your fingers and toes from going permanently numb from the drugs being poured into your body) and popsicles (to soothe the sores in my mouth from said drugs) that there was just no room for a chicken or two. So in Kenosha, in the basement freezer, they stayed, until finally chemo was over, and we made some room. I think it was Christmas Eve – after we went out for Japanese food? – that we retrieved the frozen fowl and brought them home.
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