Oh. Dear. God. My husband is the WORST PATIENT ON THE PLANET. I realize that all you women think that YOUR husbands are the worst patients on the planet, but this would be incorrect. It is mine. You may remember that we've had a bout with illness around our house. Well, Jude has bounced back and returned to his usual bouncy self. Jimmy? Not so much. After bucking up on Saturday night so he could shoot the film he's working on, he has hereby dissolved into the most pathetic and demanding sick person I've ever experienced.
Sunday night, he was up most of the night moaning. Yes. Moaning. His symptoms? A temperature of 99 degrees, and a cough. I know it was 99 because he obsessively takes his temperature every 30 minutes. "It's STILL 99!" The man was moaning. And tossing and turning, I might add, which made for a rather unpleasant night for us both. Monday morning, he staggered out of bed and announced that he'd just endured the "worst night of my life". He was telling ME. And that he needed to go to the doctor immediately. I tried to tell him that he had a virus, and that there was very little the doctor could do to help him. That he just needed to stay in bed and get some rest. At which point Jimmy got a bit ugly and nasty, and accused me of a lack of caring and a certain amount of bitchiness.
Upon returning from the doctor two hours later, he announced melodramatically "The doctor says I have a VIRAL INFECTION!!" Mmmm...no kidding. "And there's NOTHING HE CAN GIVE ME!!" Hmm. Surprise. At least the doctor did prescribe some nice cough medicine with a healthy dose of Codeine, so he would go to damned sleep and GET OUT OF MY HAIR.
I have yet to make it to a Weight Watchers weigh in this week, due to all the illness and Halloweening around here. But I fear that the week will not prove successful. While I was pretty good for most of the week, I fell a little off the wagon last night. Too many yummy treats. And I'm not talking candy. I'm more of a savory girl. Between Juliet's famous artichoke dip, Lynn's cheese dip with bacon, and these excellent pomegranate martini thingys...what can I say.
I did, however, make a tasty Weight Watchers stew, which I will share with you...
Spicy Chicken Stew (which the website LaaLoosh calls 'White Chicken Chili", but I refuse to defame the name of chili by applying it to anything that includes chicken or white beans, no matter how tasty it might be)
1 tsp. oil
1 1/2 cups chopped onion
4 cloves garlic, minced
8 oz. boneless chicken, cubed
2 4-oz cans diced green chilies
1 1/2 tsp. ground coriander
1 tbsp. ground cumin
1 tsp. chili powder
salt and pepper to taste
2 15-oz cans Great Northern beans, drained and rinsed
3 cups fat-free chicken broth
2 limes, juiced
1/4 cup chopped cilantro
In a large pot or Dutch oven, heat the oil over medium-high heat. Add the onion and garlic and cook, stirring occasionally, until softened, about 5 minutes. Add chicken, and cook until chicken is no longer pink. Stir in chilies, coriander, cumin, chili powder and salt and pepper. Cook another 5 minutes. Add beans and broth; bring to a simmer. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 20 minutes. Stir in lime juice and cilantro and cook for 5 minutes more.
Makes 6 servings.
WW Points Plus - 5 points per 1 1/4 cup serving.
Geeky choir humor...
Instead of handing out candy to all the little neighborhood trick or treaters, my mother-in-law Mommy passes out...cash. Yes, every year she goes to the bank and gets rolls of nickels and dimes, which she drops in each little Halloweeners treat bag. When I asked her why she does this, she answered "There was a big scare! They was putting razor blades in the candy! Nobody was letting their kids eat the candy no more, so I started giving them money." "But Mommy, wasn't that back in the 1970's?" "Well...yeah." So for the last 40 years, Mommy has been handing out cash. Apparently, this makes their house particularly popular. "Sometimes they come back over and over." "I'll hear one kid shout out 'This lady's giving out money!' and they all come running." I have to say, Jude would much rather have cash than a bag of lousy candy corn or Dots.
Okay, I'm out of here. Whiny McWhiner needs a new damp rag for his forehead. I promise not to spit in his chamomile tea.