Beans, Beans . . .

I had a more serious real estate post for today, but, frankly, I'm tired of being so somber this past week. I've been wanting to tell you about a new addiction that my family has--especially my young children and my husband.

It's not a computer game. It's not Sudoku (my husband got over that as soon as I bought him the giant book full of puzzles). It's not a toy. It's not drugs or alcohol, thank God. And it's not candy.

We've become addicted to green beans. I had never cooked them before, and just did my best to stay away. But, after Christmas, we were invited to dinner at a friend's home and one of the side dishes was green beans. My baby was hungry, so out of desperation, I handed her one until I could cut up her chicken. She ate it before I moved my hand away from the tray. I actually tasted one and didn't throw up. The kids had some and asked for more. I thought I was in the Twilight Zone.

I had never had an occasion to steam a vegetable before. I noticed that my friend had one of those steamer trays inserted in a regular pot. I've had one since our wedding, but never knew what it was for (yes, seriously--we like raw veggies, what can I say?). I almost threw it away when I was cleaning out the drawer. Anyway, my husband showed me how to use it and I've been steaming green beans regularly ever since.

We've been so addicted to them that I bought some seeds to plant in our garden. Unfortunately, when I read the label again as I was placing them into the soil, I noticed that it said "snap peas". Doesn't matter, though. It's the only seed we planted that didn't grow--at all. Everyone knows that, if you want to give a child an exciting horticultural experience, have them plant a bean seed because they sprout in a week and are a hardy plant. Not here. My garden is the kiss of death to a seed which millions of kindergartners have successfully sprouted before they ever learned how to read.

Our lives seem to revolve around how quickly I'm able to steam the tender pods before the baby starts screaming for them (I try to cook extra so that I just need to reheat, but I seem to run out after every batch). As soon as she catches sight of them, she starts to holler.

Recently, we found another bean that's been making us howl . . . and even cry at times. A friend sent me this:



Now that I have high speed internet, I'm able to download these types of videos and watch them before the next day. We rented Mr. Bean's Holiday a few months ago. It was funny if you like movies with no dialogue and a main character who resembles a cross between Monty Python and a sighted Mr. Magoo.

No one in the family seemed too impressed by the movie. But, when I played the link my friend sent me for my kids, I thought that my teenager was going to pee in his pants. He was laughing so hard, I peered over his shoulder just to make sure that it was the video that I had just previewed and not Brian Regan (again).

Now that we can download the skits, we crowd around the computer at night before bed and bond over Bean. He may be ugly and silly, but it's an addiction, like green beans, that we don't mind having.