I’m a big fan of stuffed chicken.

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Is there a term for salads with mayonnaise?

You know…potato salad, macaroni salad, coleslaw, pimento cheese, egg salad, chicken salad. Is there a special name for those?

I’ve googled and wikipedia-ed (yes, it’s a verb) and I can’t for the life of me figure out what to call that particular category of salad. I’m at a loss. Without knowing the proper nomenclature, let’s just call them mayo-salads. Now that we’ve cleared that up…
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Every Summer when I was a kid, my body would slowly transform.

My skin would turn dark brown. My hair would turn light blonde. My legs would be covered in bumps and scratches. And my palms would turn bright red. I was a fright sight.
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I go through grocery store phases.

Sometimes, I’m a local grocery store girl. I shop at the neighborhood market with my neighbors – the students buying Totino’s pizzas (4 for $5) and cases of Shiner, the families of 8 with their two carts of chicken wings and flats of eggs, the hipsters with their 6 pack of tall PBRs and packs of American Spirits (hipsters don’t eat), the little old man with the 6 boxes of Rice-A-Roni and the package of hot dogs and the yuppie family with the toddler with their cart full of organic produce and gluten-free mac and cheese.

Sometimes, I’m a big box girl. I appreciate the large quantities at low prices. I buy gallons of olive oil, flats of produce, huge quantities of meat, gallons of milk and Greek yogurt by the quart. I report my finds to my friends on Facebook and feel like I’ve conquered the world as I package everything up to be frozen since we can’t eat it quickly enough.
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It’s time to face the facts – the holiday season is over.

No more of these. Or this. Or even these.
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