Don't Cry Over Burnt Beans

There is an accompanying photo, but perhaps it's best that it's stuck on G's phone. 

Sunday night G and I read about a movie on a friend's status on facebook.  Checking out the trailer, we decided to go ahead and rent it.  It's a great film called Courageous, about men stepping up in their roles as fathers.  However, being the constant multitasker that I am, I had started cooking pinto beans to try and make homemade re-fried beans for burritos to freeze.

We were nearing the end of the movie, near midnight and G suddenly says, "What's that smell?"  I leap up, having completely forgotten about beans, and worry that the house is on fire.  It clearly smelled like smoke, and I freaked out.  Rushing downstairs behind G, I think, "Well, the fire extinguisher is under the sink."  Ha!  He looks, and instantly cracks up.  All the water was gone, and the beans had begun to burn and smoke themselves. 

I tried to convince him that I could save them, using their smoky taste to make baked beans but he clearly thought I was crazy.  It was humbling as someone who cooks so often to admit that I took too much on and burnt beans.  Of course it helped that I was laughing so hard I was nearly doubled over.  It pretty much sums up my life right now...too many pots on the burners!