The Barley Barfies

I survived.

I didn't think I would, but I did.

But, I should start at the beginning.

Yesterday the kids had the end of our homeschool semester testing, so for supper I baked a big chicken pot pie, which is their favorite. I left them watching Narnia for the umpteenth time to have a little P&Q outside and watch the sunset. Apparently they enjoyed the new double crust I tried because Ricker called out, "Good show, Mother darling. Right tasty!" in an English accent and I could hear Evangeline shouting, "Bite! Bite! More peeeez! Ooooh nummy nummy!" Man, I've got great kids. Looking back, oh how I wish that I had joined them...

I grabbed a light blanket, a glass of wine, and a book, and then snagged a bag of roasted spicy barley that we bought last week in Little Ethiopia. Yum. In Ethiopia, roasted barley and popcorn are often served during the coffee ceremony and it's really delicious. Off to enjoy some Mama Time. So there I was watching a gorgeous tangerine sunset with a view of Catalina Island, listening to Andrea Bucelli, reading Dinesh D'Souza's "What's so Great About Christianity". (After rotting my brain with a love story and a murder mystery I needed a little mental edification.) Anywho, classical music - check, fountain on - check, sunset brewing - check, gorgeous evening - check, glass of wine - check, bag of spicy barley - check. And there I was thinking, "what a lovely way to end the day".

Not so. You know, it's like eating Lay's potato chips. Nevernevernever eat Lay's out of the bag. Come on, fess up, you know what I mean. You have to put a little pile on your plate and put the bag away otherwise next thing you know your scrounging around the bottom of the bag for the last bit and then cautiously pouring the little chippy crumbs into your mouth so you don't miss out on any of the salty delicious, right?

Spicy roasted barley is like that. First bite and you're hooked. It wasn't a big bag. I mean, it's not like it was a rucksack that I had to sling over my back or anything, but not little enough to be called a "baggie"... So I ate just a little bit more than I had originally intended. I figured, oh well, I've been dietetically angelic this week, and run my requisite miles, so I'm good for it.

But, the problem was, apparently barley grains expand 17,000 times (or something like that) and the spicy doesn't help any either! As Bugs Bunny would say,

"Oh pain! Oh a-go-neeee!"

So I got to experience it all over again. No citrusy sunset, no tenor serenading me, no view of Catalina (actually, if I had stood up there's a great view out my bathroom window, but I was miserably unable to stand), and the water feature was a porcelain bowl, and the wine didn't please me as much going the other direction.

To be fair, though, I must admit that I am a champion vomiter. Really. I'm quick and I'm quiet. Seriously, not to toot my own horn, but it's one of my skills.

So, warning, folks out in blogland. When you buy a big bag (OK, already, it was a pretty big bag!) of roasted barley, put a SMALL bit in a bowl and eat ONLY that! Otherwise your tale will end as mine did... misery and woe.

Thus endeth my diatribe on barley.