This N That

I been stringin beans. It's been 'specially difficult because they are cookin on the stove whilst I string 'em.

No, I didn't see a new method on Pinterest. For some reason, no matter how many times I look 'em, no matter how many times I sift and stare as I rinse the beans, there are always strings in the cooking pot.

Why is that?

Now, I cook beans for a long time on top of the stove because I don't have a pressure cooker. You wouldn't either if you'd had Kate for a grandmother. Trust me on this.

One time she was pressuring green beans and got to talkin to Mertis on the phone, (which, back then was connected by cord to the wall; you didn't walk around when you talked) and lost track of time. When the pressure cooker blew up, and it certainly did, good sized beans had shot out through that teeny tiny hole on top of the cooker and had embedded themselves in the ceiling.

She thought it was funny. My granddaddy, not so much. I guess he's the one who paid for repairs. It had to be done; embedded green beans in the kitchen ceiling is just not attractive.

This wasn't the only time she blew stuff up; but it is the most memorable.

I swore off pressure cookers as a child.

Another thing: when you have been married a long time,  you have conversations like Husband and I had earlier today:

Husband sang a line of a song (of course several hours have passed and I don't remember which song exactly).

Anyway, I said, "I can just hear that guy singing that."

Husband: "Andy Williams?"

Me: "No, Steve somebody."

Husband: "Oh, Robert Goulet!"

Me: "That's him!"

I've also inferred or blatantly said that husband is absent minded. The following is a shining example.

Some weeks ago lightning struck something that we thought was the router to the computer, so Husband purchased another one. That didn't help, so Husband called Computer Man. When the symptoms were described he said it was the modem and we needed to call the phone company to get it replaced.

Which we did.

Two weeks ago, lighting again struck something to do with our computers.

Before I go further, yes, yes, yes, we have a surge protector.

Let me tell you what the lightning says here at the end of the power line on the ridge of this mountain. It says, "Ha to you, surge protector!" That's what lightning says.

This time it was the router.

But we had outsmarted Mother Nature! We had a brand spankin new one! Ha!

Husband hurried to the box he had carefully marked "NEW WI-FI ROUTER" so it would be easy to locate.

And, as  you probably already know, the router wasn't in the box.

Husband looked "everywhere"(I know, obviously not everywhere), but couldn't find it.

I tried to be kind. I tried to not point out we had JUST purchased it. I tried to not ask how could he lose something that thoroughly that quickly.

Night before last I was out in the studio waiting my turn at my computer because Daughter was using it for "just a minute". My computer is the only one directly connected to the modem or some such nonsense. There's always a line waiting, sort of like in a women's public restroom.

I happen to glance down at Husband's desk. And sitting there, right in front of the monitor, was the Wi-Fi router. Just sitting there. Nothing hiding it. Nothing.

I walk back in the house and casually hand it to Husband and ask, "What's this?" All innocent like.

His face lit up. I almost didn't have the heart to tell him where it was. I said almost. But I didn't gloat. I didn't complain. I just asked him to hook stuff up.

He did.

Now, this next little story: Is it passive aggressive behavior or just that absent minded thing again?

Other Brother called to talk and the subject matter was interesting to Husband apparently, as he was  eavesdropping. I was walking around, chatting and rambled on out to the back porch. Husband followed me, listening.

After a few minutes, Husband decided he'd heard enough and went back in the house, closing the door behind him. I heard a click. He'd locked me out of the house!

I banged on the door, while Other Brother said, "You both need keepers."

Husband came to the door, saying he forgot. Forgot? Hmmmm.

Passive aggressive behavior or absent mindedness.

You decide, Dear Reader. You decide.