Canning is NOT for Sissies

This was Thursday

(Ethan took this pictures by the way. I'm laughing because he wouldn't snap it until I was saying, "cheese!")

Friday

I can recall somewhere between ages 14 and 27 thinking (and possibly repeating out loud) I would never bottle my own food.

Never say never.

Funny how things don't seem so bad the older you get. And with grapes at 20 cents a pound (There, I said it again, Mom. I think I am rubbing it in.) how could I not bottle some grape juice.

I did have some help. But my friend has asked to remain nameless. For some reason she doesn't want to be linked with the hilarity of two rookies juggling boiling hot juice. Thanks, B--. I may have talked myself out of this without you.

Mistakes aside, we ended up with 38 bottles of delicious juice concentrate at say about 50 cents per bottle. (If you're counting the endless cash forked over for juicers, lids, electric bill, etc. it probably worked out to be more like $6.50 a jar. (I'm kidding. (I hope.))

There really were only a few casualties during the learning curve: a burned knuckle and ruining my old karate pants were about it. It's okay, I don't do karate anymore anyway.

Well, there were the ladybugs. I threw them away in the garbage because I felt too busy to let them go outside. What kind of cold, soulless person won't help a sweet, little ladybug to safety? I still feel really bad about that. So I guess you could say our juice did come at a high price.

And this was Saturday

Kicking back and watching Jim and Pam get married made it totally worth it. I got over the ladybugs.

So would I do it again? Next year, Baby! (I've got to get my money's worth out of that juicer.)





Apples? You ask.

What apples?

There are no apples needing to be bottled here. I think you may have my blog mixed up with someone else more motivated than I.





PS--Where was Randal during all of this?

Here.


Okay, not really. But he is traveling for business and missed the entire circus.

Convenient. Very convenient.