The Hamhock Incedent

No good deed goes unpunished, I have learned.

I was simply cleaning my fridge when suddenly the God of Unwise Decisions was dislodged from my crisper drawer, along with a very old Tupperware container of black eyed peas.

Now, I've referenced many, many times at how I am not the most tidy of Domestic Divas. Sometimes, when nothing else will fit or things start to smell a little funky (or Jef hasn't gotten pissed and done it himself) I will clean out the fridge. I had been getting whiffs of something for about a week, and after grocery shopping yesterday I decided to investigate. Well, there were those black eyed peas, sitting ever so sadly in the crisper. Their Glad Cling Wrap was all twisted off the top of the container (I cant find lids for anything!). They were partially frozen (things are very crisp partially frozen, no?) and starting to look like a science project the school geek once made (that was me).

I debated for a moment what to do with aforementioned peas. If I dumped the container of them out in the yard, then Buster Weener would eat them and have even more gas than normal. "I could throw the whole container away..." I said to myself. But it was my grandmother's bowl, and I'm a sentimental fool, so that was out too. I wasn't about to let them sit and seep in a garbage bag all nite in the garage- foul! So, I asked myself, "What would Big J do?" (And I am referencing my hubby here, not the other Big J that's synonymous with WWJD- He would simply throw the peas into the cosmos).

"FLUSH THEM!" I squealed, scaring both the cat and the baby. So to the potty I trotted.

I thought this amount of black eyed peas would for sure be a two-flusher. So I plopped half of them into their watery grave, pulled the handle, and waved bye bye to the rancid mess.

And then it happened. Everything went into slow motion about the time the water stopped swirling and going down. I kept thinking, I know this toilet will handle a few peas... I know the people who live here. Peas should be a treat for this potty! And it hit me... like the wafting scent of nasty leftovers. There was a ham hock in those damn peas. Gulp!

In the South, we cook everything we can get away with in pork fat or something as close to that as possible. I'm not exactly sure what a hock is (ankle joint?) but it sure does taste good in beans and peas and collards!

But they don't flush very well. Starting to over analyze and try to think myself thru toilet anatomy I concluded that bones aren't designed to make the S-curve thru the pea trap, and pea trap sounded like a long hidden warning that was now mocking me.

Plunger! I can go a little reverse suction and fix it before Jef got home. Hey, I watch DIY... I am such a home repair chick! So, I grabbed the plunger and starting doing my thing. I plunged a lot, and stuff seemed to be blowing around a lot in there so I flushed again. It didn't work, so I kept plunging for what seemed like eternity. I finally got the water to drain and refill with no sign of peas or ham hock.

I dumped the remainder of the peas off the back deck into the yard below and giggled to myself as Buster Weener nearly busted a nard flying down the steps to get to them. He will most definitely spend a lot of time outside today.