WORKIN' FOR BEANS

We've been doing ALOT of swimming around here, very little blogging (Mark), the least amount of cleaning with which we can get away and very little cooking, as well.

Tonight, for instance, we had homemade bean burritos, which don't sound like much...correct.

Being on a school salary, having five kids and paying for all the water we have to put back INTO the pool every night, bean burritos are a very economical meal; furthermore, they are very satisfying, easy to make and delish, as Rachel Ray would say. I hate her every time she says it...which also means, Jake says it every chance he gets when he and I are together. Ahhh, boys.

Bean burritos, oddly enough, bring to mind a few stories.

• My late grandfather Deter had this amusing habit of, well, flatuating and then blaming it on the person sitting the closest to him. Despite that fact, I LOVED sitting next to Grandpa, as all the grandkids did, but I was the oldest grandkid and always seemed to weasle my way in next to him. Because of this, I was blamed often and, being easily embarrassed, I'd flush red every single time even though I knew that everyone else knew--whoever smelt it, dealt it! Never thought about it until now how much I miss being accused of being "The Farter".

• A classic poem oft quoted at my childhood home; of course, it's carried over to our home:

Beans, beans, they're good for your heart

The more you eat, the more you fart

The more you fart, the better you feel

So eat your beans for every meal

(I'm sure you'll insert your own variation in the "comments" section)

• My first official, go out and fill out an application/have an interview/watch "Food Handling/Safety" video J-O-B: Taco Bell. Aahhh, I can still smell the stench. Every time we walk into a Taco Bell now (which is rare), I still gag at the smell of grease. I remember my brother, who avoided me like the plague, would scoot over right next to me in the car when Mom would pick me up from work. He'd inhale deeply all the way home like some perverted taco freak. He probably pulled my uniform out of the laundry and slept with it all night. Nasty.

I worked at a brand new Taco Bell. All the employees were brand new, as were the managers, supervisors, you get the gist. To "practice" for the big Grand Opening, all the employees' family and friends were invited into the store the day before the big Grand Opening and they could order ANYTHING they wanted, AS MUCH AS they wanted, all for FREE! Yes, FREE!

Well, my little sixth grade weasle of a brother (who is pretty cool now but not then) couldn't get enough. I don't know how much food he ordered that day, I doubt if he ate much of it--it was just a challenge to him to see how much food he could order. My Mom got so irritated at him that day.

Taco Bell, in those days, drained the mystery meat in huge colanders set over buckets which sat on the floor--very hygienic. One day, I was walking past the "drain bucket" when I happened to look down and see a used bandaid in the meat. (I know I just made Tammi run for the toilet.) Yes, I took it out so nobody would eat it or find it and ruin Taco Bell's good reputation!

After I had been dating my hubby for a few years (we dated for five), I found out he had worked at Taco Bell's arch rival at that time--Taco John's. Ewww. Actually, I'd take Taco John's over Taco Bell anyday, especially their Potato Ole's, Mmmm. To this day, when we have taco night at our house (at least once a week), Gerald and I go back and forth trying to convince the kids that each of our burrito-folding skills is better than the others. The kids' verdict is still out but I say I'm winner, hands down--that's the beauty of having your own blog (you're right, Kat, we do compete over everything).

My favorite job ever was working for a doughnut shop, Mmm. Details tomorrow.