The drive home from the airport to pick up Cory from his sojourn to China took about a half hour. Aside from his recalling what it was like to sing to Madonna, Michael Jackson and The Village People in a Chinese karaoke bar (and I will always regret missing that) he mostly told us with great pride all of the gross things that he ate. Squid heads, deep fried baby eel, pig's ear, and ligament soup all made the list. He kept repeating how as a woman who doesn't even like fish, I would have died, and he took pride in the fact that after chomping down on a particular "delicacy" (side note: have you ever noticed that if something is considered a delicacy it is likely the nastiest thing you will ever eat in your life?) his Chinese guide stared at him, shook his head and said, "I'm not sure you're American. I don't even eat that stuff." The only thing he admitted to being gross were the fermented soy beans. Now there's a brilliant idea. Leave it to the Chinese to actually make soybeans worse.
So last night as we juggled a concert for Samantha, baseball practice for Drew, and the Rockies game (Holy crap we're going to the World Series!!) I stopped by a local grocery store to pick up some fried chicken for dinner. I have probably not had fried chicken since, like, Sonny and Cher broke up. But I was testing it out for a future event and wanted to see if it was any good. And...are you ready for this? It GROSSED CORY OUT!!! "So greasy," he said.
I responded with love and told him, "You're a freak." He agreed. It's good to have him back.