The chicken pie was delish. In my mind I had two pieces though in my body I had one. And shared the chicken with both whisk and buddy. We always die with our most continuous person kissing us good bye. I wonder if whisk will die while hubby is at work soon. He is showing signs. Lung collapse or heart attack in the end. He truly is ancient. Hallelujah! Buddy is free to go after that too. I am scared truly for the cat. I think somehow she 'serves food to the poor' with her body. This is recorded, this Tummo life of Therese, Lautreamont's sister, in maman a la fenetre, the poetry book in quebecois joual.