True Confessions

I have a confession to make. Most of the windows in my house are open right now. Fans are running at full blast.

Yes, I could be enjoying a beautiful spring day. But that's not the reason.

I wouldn't have to confess. In fact, I contemplated not confessing. But maybe my super duper colossal failure today will make you feel better about your day.

I hope so. 'Cause I have my pride, and this story does not fit into the Type A, got-it-all-together image of a farm wife I'd like to portray.

OK. Enough stalling.

My windows are open to get rid of the lingering smoke that started out as today's dinner.

For the uninitiated, the noon meal on the farm is "dinner." I had grand plans. I was going to use the ham bone and the last of the ham remnants from our Easter dinner for a pot of ham and bean soup. Sounds good, right?

It also solved another problem. I was called into farm wife duty this morning. Randy needed my help to sort and move cattle to greener pastures.

I even planned ahead. I soaked the beans overnight. I poured off the soaking liquid, added new liquid and the ham remnants.

Cooking beans is a long process. I thought it was the perfect solution to the "What's for dinner?" question on a busy day like today.

Off we went to deal with the cattle. Two hours later, we returned to the house for some supplies.

Randy walked into the porch first. I knew it wasn't good when he said, "Uh oh!"

Then he opened the kitchen door. Smoke billowed out. Definitely "Uh oh!"

We hurriedly threw open windows and turned on fans. The offending pan was banished to the back sidewalk while we returned to the cattle job.


Let's just say our noon meal today ended up being leftover spaghetti.

I'm normally a fairly decent cook. I'm certainly no closet gourmet, but I have been known to put a good meal or two on the table.

But you know a meal is truly bad when even the farm animals come to investigate ...

And then turn their heads away in disgust.

They, like the Mikey of the old Life cereal commercials, will usually eat anything.

Not today.

I took the photo of the beautiful, colorful beans last night, thinking I'd share my recipe for ham and bean soup with you.

Instead, I'm sharing this photo of a pan that may never be the same. It looks a little like modern art, though, don't you think?


So, there you have it. Confessions of a farm wife ... a farm wife whose throat is still a little tender from inhaling the smoke.

I am grateful that it wasn't worse.

It could have happened last week before the kids came home or we had 15 guests in the house.

I'm probably going to have to rewash all the clothes I had hanging in the laundry room (that will teach me to carry them upstairs promptly).

But my house is still standing. It's just my pride that has taken a beating today.

The moral of this story: I should have used the Crock Pot.