Hmmm. I don’t understand the title, Chicken.

Originally posted on Blogger: 7/15/2010
Put simply, it’s a play on words. I was given the nickname Chicken by my ex and what can I say, it stuck. It was not meant in a derogatory, “you’re cowardly” kind of way…he had a thing with chickens, I suppose. Anyway, it was supposed to be endearing. The name might have been, but he was not most of the time. We’ll probably cover him in one or more of my posts, I’m sure.

I’m a Southern Chicken by birth. I was born and raised in Georgia. I ended up in Las Vegas 16 years ago when my dad settled here. I was not settled (and hardly ever am, I’m afraid) and moved back and forth for years. It has been 7 years since I smiled at the dome of light over the mountains as I drove back into town (I love it and hate it here…depending on the day).

So, here I am…single mom for two years, stressed out half the time (hence, the “fried”), trying to keep my morals and sanity in a city where both are in short supply.

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