Last summer we went to party where one of the guests brought a big bowl of ambrosia which this family had never before had the pleasure of experiencing. It's called Texas Caviar. And the recipe has no less than three cans of assorted beans in it along with some other stuff. Matt got a hunkering for texas caviar this weekend and on Sunday when the husband was out dong manly sport related stuff with the other two kids Matt and I went shopping for ingredients. We came home and can opened, rinsed, and chopped our way to bean caviar heaven and sat down with a 5 pound bowl of fiber and a really big bag of chips. We munched and munched beside each other on the couch until I had to excuse myself to get some work done. Periodically I'd call down and ask Matt what he was doing. His answer for the next 90 or so minutes remained consistent "I'm eating texas caviar!" He'd reply and I thought he must be eating slowly. Also, I was thrilled that he was eating so much wholesome fiber! Hahaha on me because when I went back down stairs Matt had polished off about 2/3 of the 5 pound bowl of beans/heavenly goodness.
Needless to say we were forced to isolate Matt in the end of the house that Matt's bedroom is on later in the evening and also we had to pass out the air raid equipment before bedtime. But I am pretty sure that the beans were helpful in doing what beans do second best, or should I say second day, because tonight when Evan was supposed to go brush his teeth he staggered out of the bathroom (only a minute or two after Matt slunk out on his way back his computer) blue in the face and I, through my heavily tearing eyes gave him permission to skip a night and tossed him a bandana to cover his face and breathe through.
The dog is still making wind virtually every time she moves, (without bean assistance) and I am also jealous that she is on a low carb diet that I should really be on. One thing I have determined watching her hunt for food around here is either dogs are capable of human feelings regarding food or the desire to carb load is all instinct because the girl is a beast on this diet and all over every crumb of bread and even managed to steal and consume a left over apple pie. But the gas? Still as rancid as ever. My mom has begged me to give her normal food again, (wimp) but since these days the devil manages to steal more bread than ever, because dad can not understand the DO NOT LEAVE YOUR TOAST/SANDWICH/PIE UNGUARDED rule under which we live here, the devil has had more variety in her diet than usual. (Donut anyone?) Blap.
Grandma is feeling no pain on the pain killers I managed to get prescribed for her in the ER. Now I just have to find a doc who will touch her old and infirm butt and fix it. Those pain killers are knocking gram into oblivion though. I spoke to Natasha (the director of nursing) about lowering her dose. Now the trained seals have to do their 2 day circus act so grandma can get less (street drugs) painkiller, because I might sue the OFH (which is what motivates every single policy in the joint) or something if they just cut the frigging pill in half (Instead of risking the over dose) without doctors orders. Luckily Glinda the good nurse of the north was there today and she agreed to skip a dose so grandma could actually wake up long enough to eat and drink something. (I never did ask Glinda what she did with that pill ... hmmmm) Grandma was pretty (drugged out of her senses) down this morning so I ran back later with the antidote to what ever ails my favorite senior and she perked right up.
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