Saturday, June 16, 2012
It is common knowledge at this point that I don’t eat much processed food. Sometimes, though, an old hankering grabs hold of me and I give in. Today that hankering took the form of chipped beef gravy. We call it dried beef crazy, because Youngest couldn’t say dried beef gravy when she was small. Anyway, Eldest wanted dried beef crazy and after I made it for her, it smelled so delicious that I went ahead and grabbed myself a bowl. I have to admit, it was a tiny bowl of steamy heaven. For a few minutes. Then my body realized what I had done and began to protest. As I was in the powder room expelling the poison from my GI tract, I may have called out to a diety about the pain. Youngest, never one to miss a show, was standing outside the door. Upon hearing my wails, she did her best wicked Witch of the West impression and started wailing, “Oh, what a world, what a world!” Her support almost made the incident worth the pain.