Domestically challenged

The experiences of a widowed and somewhat senior male when venturing into a kitchen adventure will gain little sympathy from the ladies.
We can agree that some experiences could befall even the most experienced home maker. But when they befall the independent male, it somehow serves us right.
For example - Puréed Asparagus.
I receive many suggestions from well meaning friends about all the things that will assure my living beyond my life savings - and - in such great health and vigor that younger men will wonder and younger ladies will note my entrance.
Certainly I am vain enough to accept the admiration and warmth of ladies who note my skills on the dance floor, but in reality appreciate my competency behind the wheel after sunset.
So, when the benefits of puréed asparagus were sent with assurances the aching knees or diminished libido might magically repair, I dutifully added the contents to my shopping cart.
And when I emptied the simmered contents of two cans into the blender, added some exotic spices ( salt and pepper) and punched the switch, a few stalks on the bottom began to disintegrate into a really nasty looking mess.
A serving spoon moved the escaping upper mess about and then the phone rang.
Today, I know the choices I will make in future efforts.
Let it ring - that's what the answering machine is for; or
Turn off the blender; or
Take spoon with me to the phone.
The option of dropping the spoon into the operating mechanism is not practical.
A full day of cleaning the kitchen, laundering clothes, washing out eyes, and washing hair did little to take the aroma away. And months later, I am still finding specs and globs of asparagus in unbelievable locations.
Yes, I returned to the challenge and have been enjoying asparagus cured knee joints and useless libido for months.
Which brings me to Yams.
Two of them have awaited me in a basket on the counter for two months. My daughters overlook them when scavenging my fridge for expired “Use by” dates.
I thought it cannot be too difficult to heat one up and enjoy it for lunch with my thawed out left over kentucky fried chicken thigh. A chuckling neighbor lady told me, just cut one up, heat it to soften it in the microwave, then cook for a few minutes in a frying pan.
I will save the second Yam, and bring it with me to Sam's club where I hope to see the man who demonstrated those knife sets that slice tomatoes paper thin, or cut through the heaviest food can with equal effort. Yams do not yield to the effort.
No knife would do it, I am sure. I gave up after about an hour with the blade firmly stuck midway into the thing. I actually went out to get my circular saw, having dismissed the chain saw option when I spied a green asparagus spear on the ceiling fan blade.
Does anyone know the difference between a sweet potato and a yam? Perhaps it was discussed in a Lou Costello episode. And by the way, make sure you turn off the ceiling fan before you attempt to remove an asparagus spear.