If you read my blogs you know I call my Mother, Mother. But for the sake of this blog, she'll be Mama.
Mama is manic. This was caused not by a mental illness, but by a bushel of white half runners.
Lord!
As you know, when a bean is born, it is born. We can't change the date or put it off. It just is.
So my bushel came up, Husband went and got, and then we were in a dilemma.
In the midst, when we should have been fixin, we had to go to Dalton to the ENT because both Mama and me was gettin deafer by the minute.
Husband is yelling at me this morning, by the way. He swears his volume has not changed a bit. So I told him to change it.
We brought the beans home and spread them out on the cold tile in the sun room and turned the fan on them.
Still, Mama fretted all day. It wasn't so bad on the way to Dalton, but on the way back I could actually hear her, and it got bad.
We set to the minute we walked in the door, grabbin pans and knives and such and started stringin and breakin beans.
With the four of us workin our fingers to the bone (Mama, me, Husband and Daughter), we got about two thirds of them done.
Mama called this mornin and said she'd been up since 4:30 a.m. breakin' beans. (She made Husband put the remainder of what was unstrung last night in a sack and she took them with her, as I have an appointment at noon and couldn't get started early.)
I didn't even know they still have a 4:30 a.m.
She was talkin fast and loud on the phone about what all we can have for lunch, and how we needed to know how many rings and lids we needed from the Pig. Run all that together as one word, and say it LOUD and you'll see what I was hearin before coffee.
Mama is also thrilled because they turned up her hearing aids and she can actually hear better.
They turned mine up, too.
Anyway, this afternoon and tomorrow we'll be fixin and cannin beans.
He'll have more beans in Monday and Mama says she might just want some more.
All I ask is everyone just speak a little softer, okay?
You're givin me a headache.
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