Let there be chicken!

The day Holy Spirit made chicken, especially the twelve minutes it took to conceive chicken salad, is the happiest day of my non-life. The New Thomas is a Gonzo, a certifiable chicken hawk. I had a pretty rough day at work. And in my darkest moments, a voice from beyond and below began to whisper . . . chicken soft tacos. At first, I thought my stomach and my brain had joined a career switchers program. But no! The tummy is no longer calling any shots. The New Thomas must have a direct-line to my brain. When things flared up at work, the kid said chill out and dream of the chicken soft tacos you'll be making for dinner tonight. Lo and behold, I made it through my day. Now, I am waiting on Jesse to get home and enjoy some chicken soft tacos. I already feel so much better. However, I do not want "chicken soft tacos" to become my Zen mantra. If so, I am headed back to the spiritual drawing board. Though the tacos, and mostly their preparation, have brought me solace, I wish I have a better method of centering myself.