I did not plan my weekend very well. It's not like I didn't have advance warning of everything going on. I've known for months. I stuck the itinerary to the fridge for regular review and my understanding of the situation was crystal clear. I had plans for Sunday with the family and bread was required. More than once, I have been told that I cannot enter family functions without Cheesy Bread. People who haven't seen me in years will say their obligatory hellos and then ask if I've come bearing offerings of grain and dairy.
This, however, did not stop me from deciding to make grape juice on Saturday.
It's not hard to make grape juice. I've read the recipe a billion times and I do so hate to think that my summer 'o canning fun is over just because winter approacheth. Besides, grapes were on sale for a buck a pound last week so it's not like I had much choice in the matter anyway.
What makes the situation difficult is that it is time consuming to make grape juice. It has to sit for a while before you can it. Furthermore, I often tend to complicate matters beyond all reason due to my unshakable belief that I always know a better way to do things and that the book isn't nearly as smart as I. For what it's worth, I was on the right track with my "brilliant" juice straining thoughts. Just not exactly on target.
Hence, I spent all day Saturday flinging grape guts about the kitchen and not making Cheesy Bread. The sink was full to the brim with juicing paraphernalia and my counters so sticky that I dared not touch them for fear of becoming permanently adhered. The floor was pretty bad, too. I went to bed with a lot of juice sitting in the fridge and waiting for the canning pot. But no bread...
This, of course, meant getting up at the crack of dawn to make bread. I was tired. I got a little distracted by cartoons. I maybe made it a little bit darker than usual, but no one seemed to mind. The bread was welcomed into the noontime gathering with open arms, as was I by default. It all worked out. Of course, the juice still needed to be canned and the cats were stuck to the kitchen floor, but what are you gonna do?
I left it all for the next day. If nothing else, a day spent at school where the custodians keep things not-so-much-with-the-sticky would give me a new perspective.
Except for the duct tape wallet adventure. The Boy With The Bass Booming Earbuds chose yesterday to suddenly realize he needed a wallet made out of duct tape. Why he needed this is unknown. Why he didn't bring his own duct tape rather than have to borrow some old stuff from the principal is also beyond me. Furthermore, why the principal had a roll of ancient and partially melted duct tape in his desk is a mystery for the ages. All I know is that partially melted duct tape sticks to everything. It leaves a tacky trail that rivals grape juice in its ability to attract all things in its path. Including the teacher who is trying to assist in the crafting of duct tape wallets.
The Boy For Whom All The World Is A Stage told the principal I was stuck to the wall and that someone should come get me. This wasn't true, but it still bothers me that the boss didn't even check on the situation...
I finally managed to get the classroom less gooey before I went home. Then I scrubbed down my kitchen and ran the dishwasher. I did a final straining of the grape juice and canned it. It was a busy night and I still keep finding spots on the kitchen floor where it's harder to keep up forward momentum. When I returned to school today, I discovered that the table where we all do our Very Important School Work is still riddled with glue spots. My life is one big No Pest Strip...
The week is young. I have plenty of time to scrape another layer of goo or two before the weekend rolls around. I do not have any major plans for Saturday or Sunday. At least not according to the fridge. All the notes on there are now out of date.
I'm thinking of making cranberry juice...
I would like a typo better
4 days ago