Today I told my husband that I wish we could seal the children up in plastic bubbles beginning in October, and let them out some time after Valentine’s Day. That way, they wouldn’t bring home some nasty affliction every single week, and proceed to spread it all over the house with their grubby little paws.
In the last two weeks a black, germy cloud of ugliness has settled over our once peaceful abode. No sooner had we gotten over the dreadful Cranksgiving virus when a new illness struck. It was like a sucker punch to the stomach when we were already down. It started with me, and has worked its way around to all of us, with my husband succumbing just today. We’ve had excruciating stomach cramps, all-over body aches, vomiting, cough, and sore throat. I had such terrible abdominal pain that my doctor sent me to the hospital for an ultrasound and blood tests. Fortunately, everything appears to be fine, but on Thursday I was so ill that I could not get up to care for my children. It’s at times like these when I’m most thankful that my husband works from home, and is available to help me get through the day.
On the bright side, my inability to eat for the last couple of weeks has resulted in an 8-pound weight loss, which I’m most happy about. My jeans are actually loose! Now, if I could just lose about 20 more pounds, I’d be feeling pretty full of myself, I can assure you. But don’t worry…there’s no chance that I’ll morph into a vain, self-important witch, because I’ve been trying to get rid of these same twenty pounds since college, and sadly, they will not leave. So, I will remain the overweight, squishy, self-deprecating slob that you all know and love. Or at least like. Presumably.
I am slightly concerned that I’m earning a reputation as a “Typhoid Mary.” Due to my propensity for writing about our various and sundry maladies on the internet, I fear that soon the mailman will start driving by at lightning speed, and flinging packages out his window in the general direction of our house. And then who will I talk to? Other than my husband, the mailman is sometimes the only adult I see all week, being cooped up as I am for days on end, with my whiny, cranky offspring.
I envision that when I go the grocery store, patrons will run screaming to their cars, and the clerk at the pharmacy (which I visit about 900 times a week) will insist on wearing gloves and a mask in order to give me change. As it is, the receptionist at the doctor’s office no longer has to look up my birth date, and she knows who I am as soon as I say, “Hello.”
Erma Bombeck once wrote a column called, “Everybody’s sick, it must be Christmas.” And while I adore Erma, I sincerely hope that this will not be my fate as well. I mean, COME ON! I ate Jello for Thanksgiving! Jello, people!
Give me a break.
And now, if you’re currently suffering from stomach flu yourself, I recommend that you stop reading and proceed immediately back to the sofa with your 7-Up. Or if, unlike me, you live in the 21st Century, just close your laptop, or whichever device you use to go online. Because I’m about to talk about chili, and nobody wants to hear about chili when they feel like barfing.
In my last post, I made an offhand reference to “cheesy chili rice bowls,” and a reader asked me to share this recipe. Except it’s not really a recipe, but rather a hodgepodge of things, the deliciousness of which I accidentally discovered in a quest to use up leftover cooked rice. This makes a quick, easy, inexpensive lunch.
Put a large scoop of leftover rice in a deep bowl. Top with half of a 15-ounce can of whichever chili you prefer (we like Hormel Turkey with Beans, which I buy in bulk when it goes on sale for 99 cents a can). Sprinkle with cheese (we like sharp cheddar, but cheddar-jack would also be good), cover, and microwave for about 2 minutes. Top with a dollop of sour cream.
You will not believe how good this is. In fact, I might make some right now.