I mean, really

[mme_hardy]

It is a Southern custom, passed on from Black people to White in this case, to have black-eyed peas and collards on New Year's Day. Black-eyed peas (really beans) for luck, collards for money.

My husband, bless him, made both collards and black-eyed peas, the latter in the InstaPot. While carrying the black-eyed peas over to the stove, he tripped, fell over a trashbag*, tried to save the peas, failed, and walloped his back a good one. He is now in bed with ibuprofen, and will probably be miserably sore tomorrow.

Those peas had better get their act in gear.

*I had bravely unpacked a box and thrown away most of it. Little did I know.

Comments

[pameladean]

Oh no! I hope he feels much better soon.

If it makes anybody feel better mentally -- on New Year's Eve and early New Year's morning, I made a very late dinner consisting of black-eyed pea masala, cabbage and mushroom curry, and mushroom muttar. It was lovely. I put the leftover food away after we'd eaten. I stacked the container of mushroom muttar on top of the container of rice, and opened the door of the fridge. The top container slid off the bottom one and landed on the floor. The top burst off, and a lovely smell of mushroom muttar already mutating as dishes with tomatoes and garlic in them often do filled the room as three-quarters of the leftovers splashed onto the kitchen floor.

I am still upset. But I did not hurt myself, except my pride. I KNOW those containers do not really stack. They just look like they do. THANKS, Ikea.

P.

[mme_hardy]

Wasted food hurts so much.

I say so often "Only my pride" but pride hurts, too.

[pameladean]

Of course it does, often a lot. You are altogether right.

Still, at least it doesn't require one to go to bed with ibruprofen.

P.