I'm in my Happy Place, because guess what time of year it is! Canning season! In fact, I will be up much too late tonight waiting for the dehydrator to finish it's job on this year's bumper crop of peaches. Sadly, I missed the Sustainable Living fair this past weekend, but I did briefly consider buying a goat at the farmers' market, and after about 3 glasses of wine yesterday, standing in the midst of a load of pinging jars of peach jam and green tomatoes, the Chica and I had a brief little fantasy involving drop spindles.
Ah yes, it's the time of year when I make my plan to be Ma Ingalls. "Ma Ingalls?" said the Ex. "You can't be Ma Ingalls, you aren't married."
"Hey!" I shot back. "So I'm the liberal, divorcee Ma Ingalls, minus the prejudice against Native Americans and without a man. Don't mess with my Happy Place!"
And this weekend I will make my annual ritual sacrifice to the gods of suburban motherhood and attend (oh god I can't believe I'm actually going to tell you this) ... Croptoberfest. I know, I know. It isn't a habit, I swear! I can stop whenever I want!
Do you think the neighbors would mind if I put a few sheep in the back yard?