Woody Cavenaugh

My dear old grandfather Matthews used to tell me, "What you get out of life is what you eat." He started complaining in his late 60's that food just didn't taste good anymore, he died at 74. I suspect by this time he had even forgotten what food tasted like.

As a baby my parents adopted a simple philosophy given to them by the family doctor. How much do you feed a baby? You feed them until they stop eating. The same advice held while I was a toddler and child too. I had to clean my plate, and once clean I could choose to refill it again with as much of whatever I wanted, I just had to eat it all.

As a child my grandfather often remarked that any boy who liked fried chicken that much was destined to be a preacher. In his day, when the preacher came to dinner, you served fried chicken and the preacher got to have all the best pieces and as much as he wanted. As a child I started with the legs, then the thighs, than the breasts, and finally the wings. I couldn't have the neck or back. That was my father's domain (the youngest son of six), and he would fight tooth and nail for his pieces.

These days I've got an eight piece addiction that just won't quit. I can go weeks without it, but then one day I get the shakes and nothing will cure it except good old southern fried chicken. These days I start with the thighs, then the breasts, than the wings. I try to leave the legs for Sara, but if she isn't around, they too fall to my insatiable hunger.

Cookies? Who needs them. Cake? Not interested? Donuts? I stopped eating Krispy Kremes cold turkey and haven't looked back. Sausage? Seldom. Spare Ribs? Sparingly. Fried Chicken? Eight piece box, no biscuits, no sides, and a large diet coke please.

Henri, who is the face you see when you look into the abyss, says she's going to throw Fried Chicken strait in. "OK." I told her. "I can practice my high dive going after it." How many pieces of chicken will I catch doing an infinite number of half gainers while falling through the abyss? I'm ready to find out. Though I suppose I ought to tie a napkin around my neck first. Actually make it a cape. I'm a messy eater.