Poultry

I was on the internet today in my DASN (Dementia Advocacy Support Network) chat. We were sharing with each other where we were born. Sometime in the conversation, they asked me where my husband, Vince, was born. Knowing that I would never be able to spell it, I thought I better ask him before trying to type it.

Vince was in the back of the house watching TV so I called him on our intercom phone. "How do you spell the town you were born in?" He said it is spelled
D-U-Q-U-E-S-N-E.

Then he said to me - "What about the chicken?" So I said
C-H-I-C-K-E-N.

I could hear him laughing clear out in the living room. He was laughing so hard and then he came out and told me he didn't want to know how to spell it, he wanted to know how we were going to cook the chicken for dinner.

We had a good laugh over that one and I told him to remember that he can't change the subject that fast and expect me to keep up.

By the way, the chicken is roasting in the oven as I type.