Category: another day in the life

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My weekend:
Up early Saturday morning to hit market.  I bumped into neighbor Brian and wandered some with him, comparing notes on the chickens (they live in his back yard) and talking about what we need to do to winterize the chicken house.  I then ran into our friend Straz and wandered around with him.  Normally I make a quick run to the stands I like to patronize and then cut out of there.  Straz hadn’t been to market in a while and I found myself wandering and exploring the market like I haven’t made time for in at least a season, if not more with him.  Bonus, I got some impromptu quality time with Straz, which set my weekend off on a good note.  Thanks Straz.
Came home, packed up the fam for a quick little roadtrip.
Destination?  The Cowpasture River Preservation Association Annual picnic. The Cowpasture River are the headwaters of the James, along with the Jackson River and fall under the duties of my favorite Riverkeeper.

The Cowpasture is one of the cleanest rivers around.  It runs through the western most part of Virginia, in the Allegheny mountains.  It may be one of the most beautiful parts of the state.  As you can see in the above shot, the water is low.  We didn’t go out on the river, but we did enjoy mingling with the members of CPRA. They are a lovely group of folks.
This hollowed out tree was a popular topic of conversation.  Somehow it withstood the derecho while more solid trees around it were blown over.

The hostess of the picnic said there was an article published about it, but I haven’t been able to google it to link it.  It’s big and old and incredibly hollow.  It will no doubt outlive us all.
Another popular topic of conversation was the ensemble worn by the mini-me. The Picasso dress with zebra print rain boots.  Pretty sure only she could pull that off.  And don’t let this picture fool you – she was much friendlier to people who weren’t her mother and didn’t have cameras in their hands.
The ‘tween ‘tude is strong with her.
Johnny, one of Pat’s River Rats, so kindly put us up in his cabin farther down the river that evening.
Yet another quiet unplugged evening by the water….

I love the view from the front of the cabin.  Mountains and cow pastures with the river running behind it.  Quiet and soothing and a little bit of heaven. 
Sunday morning, we had to get up and book it back.

Cville Swaps  had our third swap this weekend.  We had planned it before I knew Pat had so much going on this weekend, so I didn’t have time to whip up any baked goods, but thanks to my pickling habit, I did have a good number of jars to bring.

Which Edie proceeded to swap to get herself some new earrings that Stephanie had brought.
I also brought home some BBQ sauce, peach honey, some of Vikki’s jams as well as her pickled blueberries.  (I am not the only pickling fool around.) My child is much more inclined to eat Vikki’s jams than she is mine.  I chalk it up to years of my bad jam.  I get it. It’s a big reason why we do the swap – so that I can get Vikki’s jams and jellies.  I got some cherry vanilla, peach butter and a peach jalepeno jam that I think is going to go well on a ham sandwich.

Robyn also brought some Paw Paws, so we covered all the bases of home made, home grown and foraged for foods this swap.
Swap over, we dropped Edie at a friend’s and headed south.
The James River Brewing Company was having a pre-opening celebration. Pat’s been working with them on a few things (including a possible pawpaw brew), so we were quite happy to pop in and try some of their new brews.  They officially open this weekend. Their tasting room is beautiful. In addition to the breaktaking white oak counter at the bar, they used reclaimed wood throughout. Warm space, good beer, worth the trek to Scottsville.

 

I sampled a few, the Green Eyed Lady being my favorite.  Pistachios were used in the brewing.  It has a higher alcohol content, which led me to calling it the One Eyed Lady.  A few of those and I’d definitely be one-eyed. 
We headed back into town and grabbed a quick bite at Beer Run.  It was packed and as we were finishing up our meal, we had the pleasure of being forced to listen to the rant of some returning UVa kid who had his parents and grandparents in tow, complaining how they had to wait 10 minutes for a table.  Oh the humanity of it all.  I was surprised they didn’t just pack up and leave he bitched so long and so loud.  Clearly he’s never worked a day in his life in the food service industry.  I was trying to have a pleasant conversation and date night with my husband, after spending a weekend running around going to work with him and here this guy stood right behind us yelling about how horrible it was he had to wait for a table.  It took quite a bit of willpower to not say anything to him, but I realized he’d just start yelling at me too.  It was bad enough I had to listen to him. It was bum ending to an otherwise busy, but good weekend.
And now I need a weekend to recover from my weekend.  The last three roadtrips I have just pulled dirty clothes out of the suitcase, made sure there were clean ones in there and headed back out.  I think it might be time to unpack it, maybe put it away and spend some time at home?  My house is starting to get that September old lady house smell that inspires fall cleaning and I really need to crack down on this regular bedtime thing.  That child must start getting to bed at a reasonable hour on a regular basis before I will allow her any wiggle room on weekend.  That didn’t go over well when I told her that but Pat did high five me on my mad parenting skills. So I’ve got that going for me. 

The Big Yellow Angel is Back!

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Well, sort of.
In our case, it came in the form of the neighborhood 10 year old girls knocking on the door at the ungodly hour of 7:25 (the hour to which we’ve been accustomed to getting ourselves out of bed most mornings for the last 5 years) to walk the two blocks to their new school. Which I realize is way later than every other neighborhood in town where the Walker bus comes through at the ungodly hour of 7 am.
I am lazy and spoiled.  But at least I admit to it.

The Big Yellow Angel is a phrase I picked up from my friend Virgina.  I fully embraced it after Edie’s first Christmas break back in Kindergarten, when I realized how much my child thrived on the structure she got at school all day.  Structured I am not.
She seemed to have a good first day yesterday – she’s been anxious about the change of schools for some time and I knew as soon as she actually got it over with she’d be in much better shape. Her BFF moved to Guatemala a few weeks ago, so a new school is not the only big change in her life.  We’ve known about this added change since last Christmas.  Waiting for them to both actually happen has been like very slowly pulling a band aid off.  Now that it’s finally ripped off, we can move on and find her new normal.  Thankfully, she’s got her crew of neighborhood girls that are right there with her, so she is in good company.

Catching up.

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Since I last visited this space, we have had a few adventures.
Going to pick up Edie from camp was the first.
After last year’s camp closing ceremonies, Edie announced that her goal for this year was to be recognized for archery at the closing ceremony.  Which she was.  Her face as her name was called for that was absolutely beaming.  She was quite proud of herself, as were we. Is there anything better than seeing the satisfaction of your child’s face when they hit a goal they set for themselves?  She was also recognized for Dance & Lacrosse.  She was surprised by the lacrosse recognition as she doesn’t care for the sport.  I told her she didn’t have to like it to be good at it, but wasn’t it nice to know that if she wanted to play it she’d be good at it?  She was only slightly sold. 
There was a dirt road involved on the way home.
We are fans of detours that include dirt roads, especially when they include ice cream as well, which this one did.
When we got home, I had her dump her trunk down the laundry chute so I could wash everything.  My basement smelled like someone had been bathing in a pond for 3 weeks and then left all her towels out in a rainstorm.  Which pretty much was her story.
While I was switching out the loads from the washer to the dryer Saturday night, I happened to glance over and see something wriggling in a spider web that didn’t look like it belonged there.
Turns out, it didn’t.  It was a baby Eastern Ringneck snake. The tiniest little snake you’ve ever seen.
Edie really wanted to keep it, but Pat wasn’t sure if it was eating the tiny worms we brought him/her.  Also, when all of Edie’s pals came by to see her the one day she was home between adventures, the little bug catcher the snake was in didn’t get properly closed and we woke up to find Ringo gone.
Hopefully it’s made it’s way out of my house.  But if it eats bugs, then hopefully it will stay out of my eyesight.
As soon as I got Edie’s camp laundry done and my basement smelling like a basement again (a big improvement over pond water believe it or not), we took off for our last family adventure of the summer.
We headed down to the Outer Banks of North Carolina to visit our friends the Dorbads.
19 month old Lincoln is cute as can be.  He also had a nasty cold he was more than generous with.  His poor mum came down with it while we were there and while Edie complained of a sore throat for a few days, I think I managed to zinc her up enough to head it off. 
I had totally forgotten that when you have a 19 month old, that’s pretty much all you do all day.
Although they are awfully cute and entertaining.
We had some great beach weather.  It was in the 80’s and thanks to some offshore winds, the water was ICE cold.  After sitting in the sun and ‘getting warm’ as my mother used to say, it was refreshing.
Also, how nice is it to get in the ocean in August and have goosebumps from the water temperature?

We wandered down to Jennette’s pier one day so Pat could fish. 
While he was up there on the pier, Edie girl & I sat on the beach nearby. We had a most fabulous chat over a coke (her) and a beer (me). 
Daddy got to fish, Edie got chocolate ice cream AND a coke and I got to sit on the beach and read not quite an entire book all day, which we all considered perfect. How to top a day like that?

By heading even farther south to Cape Hatteras National Seashore the next day.
That was the view to the left of us down the beach. 
How sweet is that?  I adore Hattaras island and that particular stretch of coastline for just that reason.
The umbrella in the distance marked the set up of a young couple near us for the day.  It was so deserted she chose to sunbathe topless.  (One of us was horrified, one of us was amused and one of us thought good for her because I’d surely burn in a most unpleasant way in some uncomfortable spots if I did that.)
We went for a stroll to collect shells and to get away from all the people.

I couldn’t help but notice that Sandy McSandster, my daughter’s beach alter ego, lives on.
That child has some sort of magnetic attraction to sand.  When she was smaller and would come in from the beach completely coated in sand, I chalked it up to her being a baby, a toddler, three, four, etc.  But now she’s 10.  And still leaves a heavy trail.  I’m surprised there’s any sand left on Hatteras Island, because the inside of my car is completely coated, as is my beach bag, the cooler and I have no doubt her entire suitcase. 

At one point, we let her go into the cooler for something, where she proceeded to coat everything in there with sand as well.  Seriously.  One hand in to grab and everything after was coated.  That beer is fresh from the cooler, after she was in it. You should have seen the one she handed her father.  He took it into the ocean to clean it off. 

I guess she’ll never outgrow it.
Which is okay, because I happen to know 40-somethings that have similar traits.  She’s in most excellent company.

Despite the fact that my child coated everything in sight in sand and our hosts were under the weather, it was a great trip.  The day we spent at Hatteras was one of the most perfect beach days I’ve ever had.  It was 80, barely a cloud in the sky, the water temp and the breeze just right.  And I got to spend a day with those two with no outside distractions besides my book.  (I’ve been plowing through “Game of Thrones”, having watched the entire show the first week Edie was at camp, I picked up the books and am now on the fourth one.)
We spent the week without television and internet.  That was week two for me, unplugged and for Edie, week four.  (She was completely unplugged while at camp.).  It might be habit forming. 
We came back Friday afternoon.  Saturday I taught a pickling class for Market Central.

We pickled peaches, green beans and cucumbers.
It was a good class if I do say so myself.
I had planned on using the Ball Pickling Mix that is all over the market this season for dill pickles.  However, due to a small oversight, there was no pickle mix on hand for the class.  A quick flip through the stack of canning & pickling cookbooks I had brought along and we selected a new one – from my trusty Food in Jars Cookbook.  We just so happened to have everything it called for on hand and so we went with it.
I’ll let you know how they turned out in a week or so when I open the jar I carried home.  I’ve yet to make anything out of that cookbook or from her websites that isn’t good, so I felt safe trying that out in a class, untested.
I do need to brag that I completely guesstimated on the amount of brine to make for those pickles and turns out my guesstimate was just enough.  Not only did I pull it out, I pulled it out perfectly.
I’m good like that.
I can’t say the same for the amount of peach brine I made, there were several quart jars left over that students took home with them.  No one seemed to be too upset about that, as the pickled peaches were a huge hit just on the smell alone and as I pointed out, when you have leftover brine, you can use it to do another batch.  I shared the recipe I came up with as a happy discovery to much rave reviews, which felt pretty darn tooting good as well.
So now we are home for a good while – school starts Wednesday and we need to settle back into that routine.  The weather today – grey, drizzly and cool – was slightly conducive towards that end.  I cleaned out the fridge and found a forgotten jar of bread & butter brine, but I also happened to have a few cukes on hand and some jalapenos from the garden that I threw in, so there was a batch of pickles made today while I was baking bread with the sourdough starter Leni shared with me.  None of us have unpacked from the beach yet – heck, Edie still has bags sitting around with camp gear all over the house, thanks to the fact that she’s slept in her own bed exactly 2 nights since we picked her up over a week ago.  It’s good to have her home, it’s good to be home and it’s good to have a few more days to collect ourselves before it all starts back up again.

In the mail.

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We are just over the halfway point of Edie being away at camp.
She’s been gone exactly 11 days.  We got one letter the first week she was gone.
She has since mailed two more notes and a list of things she needs sent, ASAP.
Four pieces of mail, one “I miss you” in the bunch.
Oh, and this:
One of her target practice sheets.

Not a bad little shot, is she?
 

"The Suburban Strange"

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I mentioned a few weeks ago how excited I was to be holding in my hands an advance copy of a dear childhood friend, Nathan Kotecki’s first novel, “The Suburban Strange” which is to be published in October of this year. 

When I say the author is a dear childhood friend, I’ve known him upwards of 30 years.  His family lived down the street from my family, our parents were in a ‘gourmet’ dinner club sponsored by the local Welcome Wagon for years.  We went to the same schools, the same church, walked to and from the bus stop together from grade school through high school. I think our dads may have carpooled to work from time to time.  We spent many an hour hanging out after school, having numerous adventures over the years.  So as I read his book, a young adult novel set in high school,  it made sense that I recognize places and situations and found myself guessing at who and what were the inspiration for the book. However, while there was something familiar about the book, it wasn’t.  Nathan created something entirely fresh and new with his first book.

Writing reviews has always left me feeling slightly ill at ease. I don’t feel like descriptive writing is always my strong point. My wine columns are a great example. I was actually given the chance to write them because I don’t use what’s commonly known as ‘wine speak’ and was told that made my writing far more accessible to new wine drinkers. I’ve written here before that I tend to butcher the English language, especially in speaking form. If it wasn’t for spell check, my writing would tend to be pretty horrid as well. I feel a little out of my league writing a book review to be honest. I’m the sort of person to call the book ‘good’ or ‘not good’ and leave it at that. Being a girl of very little patience however, I wanted to get my hands on Nathan Kotecki’s first novel, “The Suburban Strange“, ASAP and if that meant writing a review, well, I’d give it a try.

The main character, Celia, is new at her school, Suburban High, but finds herself befriended by a group that calls itself “The Rosary”.  Strange things start happening to girls at the school on the day before their sweet sixteenth birthday.  There is a theme of supernatural, which I know seems to be the rage what with Twilight and Harry Potter, but he goes in a little bit of a different direction, which is refreshing.  He calls it “Kind” or “Unkind”, a sort of witchcraft.  There is mystery, romance, friendship, music, art, fashion and coming of age as well.   It’s one of those young adult novels that I think is going to appeal to a much wider audience.  The characters are developed in a way that you feel like you slowly get to know all of them over the course of the story.  They feel real.  The plot unfolds in a way that didn’t leave me skimming to get through it quickly nor did you always see twists and turns coming.  When I finished it, I immediately wanted to read the next installment in what he promises to be a series.  It’s a good read and it’s a shame everyone else will have to wait until October to get their hands on it. Fear not, I will be reminding you of it’s publishing date, for I honestly couldn’t be more proud of him. 

“The Suburban Strange” by Nathan Kotecki.  It’s a good book.  Well done my friend,well done.

Staycation.

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Sunday morning, we dropped our girl off at Camp Lachlan for the next three weeks. It’s an all girls camp outside of Rockbridge Baths, which is outside of Lexington.  It’s winding country roads once you get just a few hundred yards away from I-81 to get there and it’s just absolutely beautiful.
The part of me that has spent the last few weeks being full time stay at home mom is a little relieved to have a staycation from my ‘job’.  But part of me misses my buddy.  My schedule is already pretty loosey goosey during the summer with no big yellow angel coming every day, no regularly scheduled activities like soccer or girl scouts or piano to keep me (us) straight.  We have spent the last few weeks just hanging and losing track of exactly what day it is. Sleeping in, hanging out at the pool until time to go home and figure out what’s for dinner, then sitting up late watching movies….summertime and the living is easy around here. Not having a kid to be responsible for means I get even looser with it, if that’s possible.  Popcorn & apples, nachos & beer, wine & cheese are already regularly served dinners around here, only now we eat them while watching “Game of Thrones” episodes back to back.
We had a “Game of Thrones” marathon the day we dropped her off at camp. I have no idea what we’re gonna do when we finish the whole series off, which at this rate, will probably be by the weekend, at the latest. 
I’m still trying to sort out exactly how I’m going to be spending my three weeks free from motherhood other than catching up on TV.  There are things to do around the house for sure. I might actually clean. Maybe paint. Maybe some sewing. Definitely pickling some more peaches. I’m teaching a canning class this Saturday (it’s sold out, but my pickling class next month still has some open spots). A few roadtrips, some with my hubby, some all by myself. I have some meetings set up in regards to some upcoming projects I have lined up. Mostly, I’m going to savor the alone time. Today, for instance, Pat left early for work, and he’ll be home late.  I’d have tagged along, but I had to go to the dentist this afternoon.  Ugh.  I really hate going to the dentist. But I do get a whole day home alone. 
Speaking of my husband’s job, here’s a great article about him from the Lynchburg paper.  It’s hard to describe what his job as a Riverkeeper entails, but I think the piece did nice work of it.  Gives you much better idea of what he does than my answer of calling him “The old man of the river”. 

Oh,  Lesli is doing a painting giveaway.  She’s an amazing artist with a great eye for color and design and her blog is full of decorating ideas and DIY projects.  If you haven’t seen her blog before, definitely go check it out.  Maybe one of the things I do with all my free time is actually get out to her place and meet her in person.  I do need to head out that way for peaches soon….

My Cousin Molly’s Art Show Extravaganza

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Friday afternoon, we booked it up to Baltimore to attend my cousin Molly’s art show. Show isn’t quite the right word though.  Event is more like it.
My cousin Molly and I are quite a bit alike, with her being younger, better looking with longer legs and possessing of more talent, although otherwise two peas in a pod who happen to be 13 years apart in age.  Molly is an artist, who still works a day job (bartending at a local wine bar, which I guess makes it more of a night job technically).  Since Edie was a wee one, Molly has always made an effort to have a relationship with her.  Consequently, Edie adores Molly and has declared Molly, “her cousin” and not mine.  Every time we visit, Molly makes sure she spends some quality time with Edie and always has a fun little something for her, whether it be fancy new velvet leopard print slippers or art supplies.  Molly’s kind of awesome like that.
Molly and a partner have organized a few events under the artist collective title “HoodSCAPE”.  They combine art, music as well as celebration in the form of costumes, face painting and parades.  They held their second event, UpChuck, Friday night, at The Yellow Sign Theatre on Charles Street in Baltimore.  They even got some local press. 
Before the bands got started, we got to take in some of Molly’s recent works.
Totally not great shots, but you can get the drift, yes?

I’m loving her balloon paintings. 
She’s also done some cool elephant ones that I didn’t get a decent shot of. 

Molly made this for the show.  I think a smaller version would be pretty awesome in a kid’s room, don’t you?

There were also costumes to take in.  There was a bit of a pirate theme going on, with lots of tutu skirts and corsets being worn. 

Patrick was King Neptune.
Of course Edie got her face painted.  The main lights were switched off to spotlight the band that was performing in the middle of Edie’s paint job, so I used the flashlight app on Pat’s iphone to help the artist finish Edie’s face. Of course I had to capture the moment. 
Yep, that’s my kid getting her face painted in the back of a bar by the light of a cell phone.
Poor Parenting Skills on display.  Or are we opening her little mind up to all the experiences there are in the world?  We had her out of there early, so I am leaning towards the latter.
Pretty impressive face painting.  Little Day of the Dead action going on.
When Edie first got near the door Friday night, she was slightly taken aback.  I had tried to prep her for what she was about to go to and Molly’s brother Mark had lent a hand in this, but clearly, we didn’t quite do it justice.  She was a little overwhelmed when we first arrived, but she was able to realize that “under the strange face painting were just normal people”.   (Her quote.)

We did not stay the entire evening, just the first hour or so, since you know, we are old and someone’s parents who happened to have the kid in tow that evening. The only musical act we caught was Joseph Mulhollen, who we really enjoyed.  In the spirit of the event, he was in costume and we found him reminiscent of Rufus Wainwright.  I now wish we had picked up one of his CD’s, so we’ll have to correct that.
We spent the rest of the weekend visiting with family – Uncle Kevin’s sister Mary Ann and her husband were in town visiting as well.  It really was too hot to do much of anything besides curl up in the AC and watch Wimbledon, although we did make it out for Uncle Kevin’s college buddies annual backyard fireworks display and we attempted to go to Molly’s boyfriend Patrick’s band’s show, which was cancelled at the last minute due to weather or something like that.  Instead, we hung out at Patrick’s parents house, meeting them as well as the band and had a darn tooting good time.
I am quite proud of my cousin Molly.  I’m a little bit in awe actually, at her awesomeness.  She’s a great role model for my Edie, who looks up to her, for good reason.

The Sisterhood goes to the Lake.

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It’s hard to believe that just a week ago we were at the lake, gazing at the full moon to our hearts content.

Having piles of ‘cousins’

and more piles of ‘cousins’

and sunset cruises with fancy cheese & crackers & sausage and the occasional  Barbie doll.

The week our friend Will was offered his Granny’s cabin at the lake this year was the week that happened to have the Fourth of July in the middle of it.   Will and Mollie were kind enough to extend the invitation to us as well as a few other friends.  Granny’s cabin was a full house at the lake on the Fourth of July.

I brought my home made Fourth of July flair, remnants of an old dress I had made myself in college for the Fourth.  I realized the dress didn’t quite fit the way it used to, but I still wanted it around, so voila, I just made it into a banner to hang on the front porch on Patriotic holidays. 
The fabric reminded me of the old tv show, Love American Style. I vaguely remember watching that show with my parents, but I do remember it. Does that make me of a certain vintage? I think it does.

We hung it from the canopy on the pontoon boat, so we’d have holiday flair.  We also had a smaller flag off the bow and a large flag on a pole towards the rear of the boat.  With the exception of the boat that had red, white & blue bunting in light form, we definitely had one of the most decorated boats on the Lake. 
We had flair, oh yes we did.
Edie got to try her hand for a few moments at the wheel one evening when the lake was quiet.
She did a great job and was pretty proud of herself.

Abigail and Teal came down, as did Booty and Elizabeth.  We had met Elizabeth previously and I realized I knew her from around town, so it was good to spend some real time with her, since you know, Booty is part of the extended bromance. 
You know how sometimes you see a couple and you can just see that they just fit together?  Booty and Elizabeth are like that.  To see that she totally just gets him was even better.  And she showed up with cake.

She had me at cake.
The fireworks over the water were beautiful.  They were set off at a point just on the other side of the little cove the cabin is tucked away in, so we only had to go out about 50 feet or so in the boat to see them.  We didn’t have to enter the lake at all to see them, we just stayed in the cove.  
It was one of those old fashioned good times where the kids get up, put on bathing suits (or not) and swim before breakfast, the boys got lots of fishing done and the sisterhood cooked up some fabulous meals.
Thanks Will & Mollie for having us all out.  And thanks to Granny for letting us stay at the cabin.

Checking in.

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We lost internet for a few days after that derecho came through here last week.   Surprisingly enough, our neighborhood fared really well in that – no huge trees down, no crushed houses, and power was back on Saturday morning at 7 am.  I’m convinced it’s from the karma we’ve built up over the years of ALWAYS being the last neighborhood to get power, always being the worst hit neighborhood in the entire area, time after time after time.   Most of us walked around all weekend pinching ourselves wondering how the heck we got off so lucky this time. 
Spending a few days offline pre-mini-vacation was a good way to get prepped for a few more days offline while we hit the lake with friends for the Fourth of July.  It was a great trip, always a good time with the Smileys.  I have a few hundred photos to sort through and post, but as we are only home for a few short hours before hitting the road again, it will have to wait until next week. 
Waiting for me when we got in this afternoon were a few packages, much to the dismay of Edie.  Thanks Lesa for the book, I am looking forward to reading it.  I also got my new copy of “Joy of Pickling” so I can return Melissa’s.  And, excitement upon excitement, I got an advance copy of a dear childhood friend’s first novel to be published in October, which I am about to go sit down with inbetween laundry cycles and repacking the car.  You will definitely be hearing more about that in the coming months.
I finally can shout from the rooftops about the little project I spent most of June working on.  The Hook’s Restaurant Week Special Section is on local newstands as of today. I did some Q&A’s with local chefs, collected some recipes, wrote an article to go along with it and even snapped some photos along the way.   Pretty darn tooting exciting.  I wanted to keep pretty mum about it until it was all said and done and in my hot little hands.  When I went to their office last week to proof read a draft, I was ecstatic when I saw they had used some of my photos too.  I definitely think it might be time to upgrade from my point and shoot to a real camera. 
Oh, and those pickled peaches I made last week?  They are good.  A little sweet, a little sour, a little spicy from the ginger and cinnamon.  I will be making more.  Edie thinks a pickled peach pie is something we are definitely are going to have to try and I think she’s onto something…..

Along the way.

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I have lined up another canning class to teach this summer – a pickling class in August for Market Central.  In talking it over with the folks there, we thought it might be fun to do different types of pickles, maybe even some fruit pickles.  Admittedly, I have wanted to try pickling some fruit.  If you have been reading this blog for some time, you might have noticed I tend to pickle pretty much everything in sight.  I am utterly fascinated by the process of pickling and I happen to have a husband who likes pickles, so it’s kinda win-win. I thought it would be best if I actually pickled some fruit before I marched into a class and taught it, so that you know, I might appear as if I know what I’m doing. 

So I called up my friend Melissa and borrowed her copy of “The Joy of Pickling” yet again, with an invitation to come help me figure out how to pickle peaches.

Melissa came over and held my hand on the watermelon rind pickles the first time I did them – I like having her come over and help me when I’m doing something new in the canning realm.  I’m so glad I had her over for the peach pickles, she definitely helped me get myself organized, get down to business and get the job done.   She made sure we followed the recipe exactly, even measuring out the peaches to the weight called for in the recipe.  She also tried to ensure we used the proper equipment, another thing I tend to overlook.

I have learned the hard way that when pickling, you really need to use ‘nonreactive’ pots.  Which means stainless steel. I might have a few hard anodized pots that are slightly scarred from pickling & jamming adventures.  I didn’t think I had any stainless steel pots left until I remembered a huge stock pot that seems to have found it’s way into the sandbox.  It didn’t start out as a sandbox toy, I think it was a piece of camping equipment that was stored in the basement and since the gang of girls that hang out around my house think that pretty much anything in basement is up for grabs, it somehow found it’s way into the sandbox.

I needed an extra large bowl, my big orange plastic one having gone missing (I seem to recall it being borrowed by a certain wee one that lives here for some sort of project.  I’ll have to check the tiki hut to see if it’s there as it’s not in the sandbox.  She’s lately started dragging things down into Brian & Betty’s yards, building forts there too.  It really could be anywhere on the block now that I think about it.  Hmm….)Thankfully, I was able to grab a punchbowl to use as a spare large bowl.  It’s good for your various collections to do double duty I think, and as they are large and glass, they are excellent for pickling.  I keep those out of reach of little hands, which is why they haven’t been moved into another location.

I also realized I have no empty half pint jelly jars on hand.  I have no idea what that’s about. I swore I had a case or two down there.  Thankfully, I did have a few empty cases of pint jars, so we used those.

This morning I felt the call of the thrifts, thinking I might find myself a new stainless steel pot.  The one I rescued from the sandbox holds about 20 gallons or so (okay, not really, but it’s the biggest pot in the house) and honestly, I have nowhere to store it upstairs, which is how it ended up in the basement and then the sandbox. So off I went.

I totally scored today.  I found a new springform pan to replace mine, which has a dent in the bottom thanks to one of the neighborhood kids and their hijinks (it sounds as if my kitchen is regularly raided as a toy box, but really, it’s not.  The springform pan has been like that for a few years now.  I’m slow to replace things, can you tell?) as well as a preforated baguette pan and a Julia Child cookbook, Julia Child & Company, which was apparently the companion book to her show in the late 70’s.   Good scores, all of them.    But those were not my best scores. 

My best scores were a pair of Land’s End pink suede boots and a pair of red cowgirl boots, with room to grow for a certain girl’s foot.  Her face when she saw them was priceless.  She has always refused to wear anything matching with me, but red cowgirl boots?  Watch out world, we’re gonna have matching boots. 
There were also punch bowls galore at every thrift I went to today.  It was hard to resist them, but I did.  I think three is enough, don’t you?  I never did find a new stainless steel pot.  The one I have works for now, it’s just, huge. 
Oh, and the peach pickles?  7 pounds of peaches yielded exactly 4 pint jars.  Not a whole lot.  I got some half pint jars today and did another batch, as there was a bunch of brine left over and I didn’t want to waste it.  They have to sit for at least 24 hours and I don’t feel like opening one of my 4 large jars tonight, so I can’t report on the taste.  Two batches of pickles didn’t make a dent in the half bushel of seconds I picked up out at Henley’s for a song yesterday, so I also canned a half dozen pint jars of plain peaches and whipped up a pie this afternoon, because yesterday’s slightly underripe peaches were today’s about to be overripe peaches when they sit in a box in your un-air conditioned kitchen and it’s 90 something degrees outside.  Also exactly why I felt I needed to can AND run the oven today because honestly, the house didn’t feel like it was 90 something out there today.   I can report my pie crust definitely acted as if it was too hot to be making a pie, but I perservered anyway and made it work.  It’s not pretty, but it’s pie.