I love a well 'connected' waffle!

It was a measly 140 characters that came dancing across my screen and firmly implanted itself it the part of my brain responsible for desire. It happened quickly…before I could even object. Hen House had taken up residence in my brain, and now my desire had to be satiated.

Fried chicken and waffles. Together. As one happy calorie-filled family. I had to have it.

I found a friend, Marty, who was willing to join me in this soul food artery attack in Boston. On one of the hottest days of the year, we met at the Hen House where of course the air conditioner was broken; getting things off to a rough and sweaty start. The inside of the Hen House was simple…very simple. Plastic utensils, plastic plates, and lots of fountain soda graced the counter top; above that was an impressive collection of chicken knick-knacks. The woman behind the counter had a cold, wet towel draped around her neck and looked at me waiting for an order to come out of my mouth. I stood there with an indecisive look on my face, a look the woman behind the counter was all too used to. It was as if she didn’t have any more time to deal with a rookie.

The Hen House was all about decisions…hard decisions.

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  • Sherry Ott

    What is Ottsworld? It’s my journey! I quit my corporate IT job 2 years ago and said goodbye to blackberries, meetings and New Y…

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