I have left overs if you want any

When I was in High School, we took a class trip to Spain. Before you fawn over the idea of going to Spain consider that I lived in Germany for seven years so going to Spain was not unlike gong to Virginia (considering time and travel from Connecticut) only you had to wade through France.

I disliked France before it was cool to dislike France. I grew up an hour away from France and have spent a great deal of time there, met many French people, eaten their food and experienced their riots. I was not a fan of France before being nearly trampled (twice) in one of their riots. I just want to assert that I dislike that place from personal experience, not from watching Fox News.

When I was in Spain, we stayed at this hotel that catered to tourist groups. This was great because that meant that no one cared that High School students were roaming around the hotel, making tons of noise and being obnoxious because if you were not a high school student you were the adult holding the leashes. I always feel bad for people trying to enjoy something when I have brought a field trip there. The way my class acts (which is excellent compared to normative ten-year-old boy behavior) gets on people�s nerves because humans tend to like every one else�s offspring to be seen and not heard.

One of the things that this hotel did that I think, as an adult taking children on trips, was genius was to send us with boxed lunches when we would load ourselves onto the bus and go on side trips. The only problem was that the lunches were the same thing every day: one roll, a dollop of butter, a chicken leg and an apple. This was good the first time but then it got old as the days in Spain wore on. The complain in Spain was mainly on the chicken.

My God Parents visited the other day in a very Sopranos kind of way: nine slightly used computers had fallen out of a truck and into their van. They came to drop them off (a three hour drive) and left the same night (six hours of driving) so my mother told me that I had better have food ready for them. I said, �We are Betty Already!� Which is what I tell people when I am all ready. No one understands me but that is okay because I am usually off in my own world and say many strange things.

I was not ready and I certainly was not Betty Already. I had prepared some IDEAS for a dinner for them, and even had bought the special ingredients and defrosted the meat I needed for Pepper Steak or this French recipe that involves pork, potatoes, and white wine � a winning combination with the God Parents. I had even stoked the ego of my father, the chef, by getting his preferred recipe for those things (see Martin Yan or Julia Child). The God Parents had told me, �don�t cook anything for us.� I am a good cook but they needed to be on the go.

The loophole was Kentucky Fried Chicken. I did not cook anything (thus obeying my God Parents) but had hot food for them (thus obeying my mother). They were not interested in the food and just had drinks after we had put the computers in my classroom and set them up.

I am not stuck with a fridge full of fried chicken. I got a ten piece family meal but I am also fairly confident that the food has been multiplying in there. I think Jesus is trying to feed the five thousand again � using my chicken or that the genetically enhanced KFC chickens are breeding in my Tupper Wear while I sleep. It reminds me of that Spanish chicken in the lunch boxes.

If you want some chicken with mashed potatoes, gravy and a salad (that I will make fresh) come on over.