The Strange Day.

Mariam and I slept in. We got up, did our stuff. Everything was normal till I started to make lunch. I took a chicken out of the fridge and got it ready for cooking. I peeled off two layers of plastic and lifted the chicken out of the little styrofoam boat it had been sitting it. I brought the chicken over to the sink to rinse it off and rub it with seasoning, I turned the body over and saw that the wings still had a bunch of boney looking, sharp pin feathers in them. Ish. I thought to myself, "This is fine (blah) it's normal. I am going to pull these out and enjoy my meat." I have cleaned deer, made dead geese dance, eaten fish with eyes, but for some reason this grossed me out. It was processed, it was not suposed to be like that! Pin feathers are hard to get out and I can now see how a few stayed attached after the meat processing plant had it's hands on it. I had to squeeze them out, like removing a splinter or popping a giant pokey zit. Mike got home with sandwiches when the chicken was half done. We decided to have it for dinner. A really fun picnic dinner by the sea! with tea! and chess! A good idea.

I cooked the chicken up with some fava beans and chick peas, green peppers and onions. We packed some cheese and crackers, fig bars, tea and water. The two of us managed to get all that and Mariam out the door right at sunset. The Red Sea is about a five minute drive from our apartment. The shore is all developed pretty well, with sidewalks and plenty of little gazebos and benches for anyone to use. The sun was sinking down quicker than I wanted it to, so we pulled off at a close spot where there is a wave breaker and little stone piers for people to picnic on. A few groups of people had claimed some of the piers, but there were lots open. A nice one in the middle looked like it was just for us. I got out of the car and a cute little garbage cat came up to me. It followed me and my chicken out to the end of the pier where Mike had set out the blanket and these humps we have so that you can lean comfortably as you sit on the ground (I am not sure what they are called, they are popular here). Mariam was rolled out in her stroller. Everything was set for fun! I opened the pot of chicken. All of a sudden little eyes and ears and tails popped out of the rocks.

Garbage cats everywhere! They came closer, all sizes and colors. Some were brave, some scared off easily. They wanted my chicken that I had worked so hard on trying to enjoy. They had scary looks in their eyes. It was so hard for me, my brain is wired to love cats. I got up and stomped on the ground and banged my shoes and tried to shout at them. The guys next to us must have thought we were the stupidest, most entertaining things. Mike "PSSSSSSSSSSSTED" at them, but garbage cats do not know that language. They kept coming. We were trying to stick it out. Mariam was not in danger, the cats would not come that close. We lasted about two minutes before I said I was uncomfortable. I got up, looked down the rocky edge of our pier to check out the cat situation, and I saw it. It was as big as a cat, shaped like a half moon.

A big grey rat was sitting there in the dark, about four feet up from the salt water. The cats could care less. They were not going to help me in this situation like any decent cat would. These were BAD cats. I bet they team up with this thing. That was it. We ran out of there. We drove up the shore to our usual, clean, bright, populated spot. I checked for rats unter the car seat, in the pot with the chicken, and in my purse. Arrgah! We got a new clean cat and rat-less spot and tried to eat the chicken. Neither of us could stomach it. Lesson learned: if not a lot of people are there, and it seems like a really nice place, it is not. Get out.