Losing my mind

Thursday, October 02, 2008

Last week I was lucky enough to be in bed. Sicker than I've been in oh, nearly a year. Fever. Sinus infection. Overall yearning for death to come and take me away. From Sunday through Sunday I was a wreck. But come Monday, I actually felt human again and as I surveyed the chaos around me (my poor boys were left to fend for themselves all week) and beheld the piteously bare cupboards and frig, I determined that I needed to buck up and go grocery shopping.

I gathered what little strength I had, grabbed my store flyers and Joe and off we headed. After first stopping so I could run back into the house to pee. Whoops. And then stopping at McDonald's when it became apparent that the flu wasn't quite gone yet.

Finally, we were on our way to Sequim (17 miles east of Port Angeles) so I could hit the QFC and buy some meats that were on sale there. Along the way we decided to stop at the local farmer's market store so I could just "pop in and see how much the apples were selling for there." Oops.

45 minutes and 2 trips through the checkout later, we left. Burdened with 40 pounds of apples. 20 pounds of tomatoes. 20 pounds of peaches. And who knows how many pounds of pickling cucumbers. Dill. Garlic. Olives.

When I saw the mounds of fresh produce that rose like majestic mountains before my too-bright eyes, insanity took over and whispered quite seductively in my ringing ears that I should most definitely stop and buy so I could create a canned-pantry fit for a king.

In my defense, I think that I obviously wasn't fully recovered from my fevered illness and obviously should NOT have been out shopping. I blame Joe for not having the presence of mind to stop me.

But, it's too late for that now and I have to deal with this mountain of work before me. I spent Wednesday evening up to my armpits in peach juice as I boiled, peeled, and sliced mountains of peaches and packed them into jars. I managed to splatter the syrup (water and sugar) all over the floor as my ladle is about 10 miles long and the hood hangs low over the stove. So now my kitchen floor makes a sticky sqwerching sound everytime you step inside. It's going to take a good long floor scrubbing to get all that up. And I'm too tired to deal with it now. But I digress.

I ended up with 12 quarts of peach slices. Lots of work? Yes. Delicious rewards? You betcha! But unfortunately, that was just the beginning.



some of what's been canned - (12 jars of peaches not shown)


I had hoped to get at least 12 quarts of dill pickles from the 4 bulging bags of cukes I'd purchased. I got 30. Sister #6 and my son helped me get them packed and sealed and out of those 30 jars, 9 didn't seal. I consider that a major failure. Nine jars. Wow. Oh well, everyone in my family now gets their own personal jar of pickles to eat in 2 weeks.

Tomorrow night I tackle the tomatoes. And then it's applesauce on Saturday followed by apple pie filling on Sunday. When this is all done and I finally close the chapter on the Great Canning Caper of 08, I'll be drowning in jars that I have nowhere to store. Really, the thought process that went into this "little" project was sorely lacking.





And because I'm just not quite nuts enough, I have a tubful of brine left as well as a mountain of onion slice, garlic cloves and dill heads. I'm not a wasteful person and it was killing me to think about pitching all that... so tomorrow I'm heading back out to the market to get some beans and use the leftover pickle supplies to make dilly beans. Since I bought 8 dozen jars I have spares and even though no one here has ever eaten a dilly bean before, I'm sure they're going to love them. They'd better after all the work I'm going to...

Next time I get a grand idea to become a super woman of some craft or job, I'm popping a valium and taking a nap.

When I grow up...

Wednesday, October 01, 2008

I was reading a book the other day and one of the characters asked a young boy what he wanted to be when he grew up.

I stopped to think for a moment about what I wanted to do/be when I grew up and was blissfully contemplating all the possibilities open to me when a horrible thought crept into my head. I'm already a grown up.

Horrors. I'm 38. Thirty. Eight. I'm almost as old as my mother was when I got married. Just 4 more years and I'm there. Not that I thought my mom was old when I got married (I AM the oldest and was married at 20..) but where did the time go?!

I look at the teens today and I feel like I'm barely older than them. And then I realize that my own son is 16 1/2. Wow. Can women go through mid-life crises? Because I feel one coming on now.

I'll be 40 in 2 years. And from there it's all downhill. Before you know it, I'll be 50. The 80. And then I'll be dead. My life is practically over and what have I done with it? All my dreams of being a famous singer or an award winning author... what happened to them? Or a world famous chef. Obviously I'll not be hitting those now that I'm in my twilight years. (someone pass me my cane)

So here I am, a grown up. And where am I? What have I accomplished?

The web design business I started 9 years ago now employees myself and my husband full-time. Ok, that's a good thing. We do work more hours than we should but we're trying to get that under control. I love what I do, so things could definitely be worse.

Because of my allergies and gluten intolerance, I have a food company that is slowly starting to grow. Fabulous. I'm no world famous chef but my products will be landing on store shelves hopefully by year's end. That's a major accomplishment, regardless of who you are!

I have a husband I adore and a teenage son who can actually string together a coherent sentence like a normal human being. So actually, life is very good.

Where/what do I want to be when I grow up? Right where I am now, being the person I have become. Maybe growing up isn't so bad after all...