The Things You Do For Love aka Chicken Bath

Warning: Somewhat graphic experience while preparing poultry. My main man and I just celebrated our 3rd wedding anniversary. They have been wonderful years that have whizzed by faster than they should of. The date landed in the middle of the week so we planned a special dinner to make. Rotisserie chicken, sweet potato fries and a spinach salad was the menu. I had spent the day with Clay picking almonds and grapes at a friends house and we were at home resting when hubby called. He had a simple request. He asked that I rinse off the chicken, pat it dry and marinate it in Italian dressing. I went to work, took the chicken out of the frig, opened the bag and suddenly realized I was working with raw meat. Worse it was raw, salmonella infested chicken meat! Handling raw chicken freaks me out. Every movement with it seems to infect another area or item in the chicken. Rinse the chicken in the sink- sink infected. Throw the wrapping away and water drips on the floor- garbage can and floor infected. Scrub the sink- sponge infected. Where does the madness end? Ughh! To make it even better raw meat stinks, no really it smelled awful. Diluted blood was in the bag that the chicken came in...ughh again. I dumped the blood and started running my chicken friend under the facet. It stunk so bad that I decided a 'rinse' was not going to do the trick. I started filling the cavity of the chicken up with water and dumping it out. I was filling it up with water for the third time when, PLOOP, out came the innards. (Gasp!) I was raised on a farm with chickens. I have been the feather plucker off-er when we butchered chickens in the past. But somehow, I did not see it coming. Chicken guts! I spent the next precious moments gathering my breath and scooping chicken guts out of the garbage disposal. I must of been making a noticeable fuss because Clay asked, "What you doing Mommy?" I was to wrapped up in the moment to censor my answer. "I'm giving a dead chicken a bath"