I’ve had beans all three meals today. There were some leftover baked beans that were so good I had them for breakfast. I finished them off at lunch. Then tonight I went to an open mike comedy session and they had pinto beans on the menu so I ordered them. Needless to say, I’m a walking time bomb. I wonder how long I’ll be in bed tonight before my husband kicks me out.

The comediennes were very funny tonight. They bill themselves as the “Mother of All Comedies” because they are all moms telling about their lives with children. It was some pretty funny stuff. One woman got up to the mike and instead of holding it in her hand, she attached it to the mike stand, saying. “I don’t want to hold anything in my hand, especially something that looks like a penis. I might get pregnant again.” She said she didn’t know how she got pregnant. “I just tripped on a penis and it got in there and all of a sudden I’ve got three kids.”

Penis is a funny word spoken out loud in a room full of women. We all laughed every time she said it. She described her vagina after pregnancy as looking like “a dog got in my uterus and ate its way out of there.”

Another older mom with four kids said she gets mistaken for her 3 year old’s grandma at the playground, so she milks it. If her son misbehaves, she tells the young moms, “They just spoil that child, it’s really a shame, but what can a grandmother do?”

All the while I’m laughing, I’m shoveling in beans because I love them so. Refried, in soups, boiled, salted, stir-fried, baked – I’ve never met a bean I didn’t like. The feeling isn’t mutual, though. They go down the hatch and all hell breaks loose. They gurgle a warning like a rattlesnake signaling that an eruption will soon take place and everyone better run for cover. I know this is going to happen as sure as the 2010 census will arrive in my mail any day now, but I can’t help myself. My family gets upset. They buy me Beano. They threaten to move out. They make fun. It does no good. I’m addicted.

This was a fun evening tonight, laughing with friends about experiences close to home and heart, and eating beans that they say are good for my heart, at least that’s what the rhyme says. I’m as happy as a mule eating briars.