In which I cut up a chicken and Wren decides about Columbus.

I bought a broiler/fryer from the farm co-op last week, full of ambition. I'd never cut up a chicken, but I was tired of buying Perdue 'Pick of the Chick' and getting Frankenchicken parts of vastly different sizes. As it turns out, my breast halves still are different sizes, but the rest of it is pretty even and I'm absurdly pleased with myself for doing something that I suppose nearly every homemaker knew how to a generation ago. I brined the thing all day while we were at math club, and began the dissection after Mr. Baby went down for his nap. Now the pieces are marinating in rosemary-infused olive oil with lemon juice and zest. I'll brush them with more olive oil and sprinkle them with salt, pepper, and additional lemon zest before broiling them. I was tempted to fry them in peanut oil, but we haven't any potatoes and fried chicken without mashed potatoes just isn't right. Instead we're having egg noodles with lemon-herb butter and sweet peas. While I slaved away at chickens (and not a few dishes, besides a demanding baby!) Robin built with Lincoln Logs and Wren read about Columbus. We emphatically do not 'celebrate' Columbus Day, but we do take the opportunity to talk about the man and his impact on his own society as well as (Native) American civilization. Wren was incensed that the D'Aulaires didn't mention Columbus' cheating a crew member over the 'land ho' bonus, but towards the end felt a little sorry for him as he fell out of favor. Then she read about him taking advantage of a lunar eclipse to exploit more Indians and decided that he deserved to die a broken, disappointed, man who insisted that he'd found a western route to Asia despite all evidence to the contrary. So opens our study of American History, saints preserve us! We're more inclined to the Howard Zinn/Vine Deloria understanding, but I'm trying to strike a balance.