Chicken foot to you! The boy has taken to saying this phrase that he coined, whenever life's circumstances call for that extra bit of cuteness and humor. Mamacita asked him what he wanted to write to me on my birthday card. He responded with "Chicken foot to you." Maira gave him this chicken foot when she came over for our March full moon hike. She gave it in a bag with some Latvian sea salt, although the salted chicken foot is not a Latvian tradition, yet. We've kept it in a bowl in the garden window with some salt ever since, watching it's evolution and trying to pose it every now and again. Pretty stiff of late. Sometimes Gumbo will stick one of his hands out from under a bed or from under the foam of his bath, with his fingers mimicing the pose of the chicken foot, and ask "what's this?". It is of course supposed to be a chicken foot. Much mileage out of a single chicken foot and some salt. Soon after receiving this chicken foot I was lucky enough to get to try eating one at Restaurant Peony in Oakland. Not quite delicious, but not so bad either. Yes, I know, commercial chicken farming is sad.
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