The Loser Of A Sloth VS Slug Race Could Have Passed Me On The Way To The Kitchen, IF We Allowed Nature's Slackers In The Mansion

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom is moving slower than Uncle Joe on the porch of the Shady Rest Hotel in Petticoat Junction. This sickness has reset her internal clock. Sleep is not forthcoming until the early morning hours, due to a cough and pain in her throat. This morning, though, Mrs. HM laid abed until 10:15. It was the best rest she's had in a week.

At 11:15, I remembered that I had promised Farmer H a pot of chili today. So it was out of the La-Z-Boy and into the kitchen to rattle them pots and pans. But I didn't look pretty gosh-darned good doin' it. So I might lose my good thing. (If you know what movie that's a quote from, or the artist who said it, without kahooting with my estranged BFF Google, then you're in sync with Mrs. HM. And no, it was NOT NSYNC.)

The chili was a success. Even without undue tasting, with tastebuds that may or may not be up to par. Sometimes you throw in just the right amount of browned ground beef, chili seasoning, diced tomatoes, jarred pizza sauce from Save A Lot, chili beans, Cowboy Billy's Baked Beans, blackeyed peas, minced garlic, Worcestershire sauce, steak sauce, Heinz 57 sauce, BBQ sauce, ketchup, Frank's Hot Sauce, Splenda packets, and sweated diced onions.

Yes. It IS a similar recipe to Mrs. HM's vegetable beef soup.

On the side, we had a batch of poor hillbilly's Cheddar Bay Biscuits, these in a box mix from Save A Lot. Farmer H partook of this meal fit for a tyrant around 6:45, him having taken his Olds Toronado with half-working brakes to Goodwill for some browsing buying of used stuff nobody else wanted. I had mine for lupper. That was the plan, anyway. But it was so late at 5:10 that it actually qualified as supper.

I didn't even leave for town for my 44 oz Diet Coke today until almost 3:30. THAT'S how kinda slow Mrs. HM was moving, her head all foggy from this sickness, her breakfast of a bowl of instant oatmeal at 2:00 p.m.

Tomorrow I need to get back in the swing of things. It's Devil's Playground day. Farmer H is out of NutriGrain Blueberry Waffles for breakfast.

I don't know why he can't just have chili.