Recipe: Footloose Chicken Salad

Entertainment: Dancing around the kitchen in a red flannel winnie the pooh bathrobe, singing Sammy Hagar's The Girl Get's Around into a (microphone) bottle of heinz dill relish, while the Boyd the wonder beagle watches from the sidelines.

Tomorrow is boss's day. We decided to surprise our boss with a little potluck celebration and a card. My boss follows the weight watchers core plan, so we had to bring in foods that she can eat. We have a veggie tray, fruits, and my thing to bring? Chicken salad with whole wheat pitas. Yum! So today I made chicken salad... 4 frozen chicken breasts that I defrosted and then oven roasted and ran through the Kitchen-Aid Shredder attachment on my stand-mixer. Heinz Dill Relish. Chopped White Onion. Kraft Fat Free Mayonaisse, and Mrs. Dash Table Blend. It's mighty tasty.I happen to love Footloose. It's my second favorite movie of all time, and I am a sucker for the soundtrack. I need to buy the CD because I still have the tape, and whenever I am home alone I pop in that tape and crank it up. It is IMPOSSIBLE to listen to the footloose soundtrack and not dance and sing along. Last week my husband came home from working in the fields and I was in the kitchen doing dishes. My hands were in the sink, but my ass was shaking to Shalamar's Dancin in the Sheets. I can't help it. It of course made Evan laugh and shake his head. He understands my passion for footloose, but I don't think he even remotely shares it. Although, he must REALLY love me because when I wanted desperately to go see Footloose on stage at Circa 21 in the Quad Cities, he went without a single complaint and even some enthusiasm. Maybe it's just not "cool" for a guy to let on to liking footloose. But that movie put Kevin Bacon (and Lori Singer and Chris Penn, may he rest in peace) in my hearts forever. On a quiet Sunday in the winter, I can be found curled up in bed watching a Dazed and Confused/Footloose/Dirty Dancing Marathon. These are the moments that it's good to have some time to yourself, where you can shake your ass with no one watching, and sing into a relish bottle without being committed to a mental institution by your husband.