She said she begged him to stop, more than once. She recalls even getting rather stern about it and then stating she would run an errand for him only on the condition that he stop.
In despair she poured a drink and took up a post on the deck sarcastically pointing out, "Hey, you missed one. Over there."
Like many husbands, he didn't take her seriously. He should have.
What began as a typical weekend of putzing around the yard and house for the couple married 33 years this spring has ended in tragedy.
Her husband's refusal to stop finally drove her to retribution. After dutifully pulling the stems out of several thousand crabapples, cooking them and hanging the pulp up to drip out the juice, she finally snapped.
She recalls the plan forming gradually in her mind as she worked, first as just a source of amusement and then as an obsession - 50 ways to drown your husband in crabapple juice.
He's gone now to hang out with Johnny Appleseed. She's incarcerated where her punishment is a lifetime of processing crabapples.
