Tuesday, August 6, 2013

Ida Clare, I Can't Stop Complaining

Hello Friends,

I would like to thank all of you who listened to me while I whined relentlessly about the unbelievable amount of canning that Ida Mama made me help her with last week.  Now that a few days have passed since I have had something organic to pick and shell, wash and peel, chop and slop into a hot water bath over a hot stove, I am starting to feel better. 

I finally understand that the reason a person desires to fill the freezer to capacity is that it prevents you from climbing inside to cool off which might seem like a good idea at the time, but would eventually lead to a whole new set of problems, not the least of which would be starving to death surrounded by all that frozen food and you unable to get to the microwave and the defrost button.

Instead of turning into a human Popsicle, I made the decision to get cool by drinking pink lemonade from the one Mason Jar I had left that wasn’t full of jalapeƱo peppers or plum jelly.  I guess since nobody has made moonshine around here since prohibition, we won’t be cranking up the still, especially since we’ve about run out of jars.

Ida Mama doesn’t believe in going to the store and buying more jars when you’re running low.  Much like looking for change in the couch cushions, we look in the storage room, the garage, under the bed, under the sink, in the pantry and all parts in between for empty jars that we can scald with hot boiling water to make them canning ready again.  Since it has always been the philosophy of anyone in our family to never throw anything away, this seems to work itself out. 

Well, you’ve done it again: Listened to me complain.  I’m sorry, I just can’t seem to stop myself.

I promise the next post will be about something else.

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