Today I diced my body weight in fruit. So I decided to try my hand at Apple Butter. I have never even had apple butter before. I don't even know how to eat apple butter. I just know it is apple and cinnamon and that was enough to convince me. I made crockpot apple butter. Once again my house smelled glorious. Puts the Walmart Apples and Cinnamon liquid potpourri to shame.
So this is almost the end result. I mashed it up and then canned it. I taste tested it. Not bad. Don't know what I'll do with it but, ok. It's in the canner now.
I also made the most yummy strawberry lemonade concentrate. These are pint jars. I was dreaming of popping one of these bad boys open come January and adding 2 pints of water to it and being in Winter heaven. I had to think fast of something to do with the big ole container of strawberries that were about to rot in my fridge.
This is Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving freaks me out a little. The problem is Thanksgiving is not afraid of anything. Thanksgiving pokes her or his head through the fence and pecks my Rottweiler. Thanksgiving isn't real bright. Thanksgiving might become Labor Day if it doesn't quit pecking the big mean dog.
I thought I would rap tonight up with an action shot. When Sarge comes home after along day of work, the man cub, his number one fan always gets so excited! Daddy, can we play swords? Even though Sarge has been at work for 13 hours and got up at 4 he sits there and defends himself from jabs and kicks and hurls insults at the man cub. "Come fight me Jedi Scum!" he yells at the man cub who chuckles and runs at Sarge full force. I offer to be Queen Ami dali or what ever her name is because she has rad clothes, but no one listens.
Today I diced my body weight in fruit. So I decided to try my hand at Apple Butter. I have never even had apple butter before. I don't even know how to eat apple butter. I just know it is apple and cinnamon and that was enough to convince me. I made crockpot apple butter. Once again my house smelled glorious. Puts the Walmart Apples and Cinnamon liquid potpourri to shame.
So this is almost the end result. I mashed it up and then canned it. I taste tested it. Not bad. Don't know what I'll do with it but, ok. It's in the canner now.
I also made the most yummy strawberry lemonade concentrate. These are pint jars. I was dreaming of popping one of these bad boys open come January and adding 2 pints of water to it and being in Winter heaven. I had to think fast of something to do with the big ole container of strawberries that were about to rot in my fridge.
This is Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving freaks me out a little. The problem is Thanksgiving is not afraid of anything. Thanksgiving pokes her or his head through the fence and pecks my Rottweiler. Thanksgiving isn't real bright. Thanksgiving might become Labor Day if it doesn't quit pecking the big mean dog.
I thought I would rap tonight up with an action shot. When Sarge comes home after along day of work, the man cub, his number one fan always gets so excited! Daddy, can we play swords? Even though Sarge has been at work for 13 hours and got up at 4 he sits there and defends himself from jabs and kicks and hurls insults at the man cub. "Come fight me Jedi Scum!" he yells at the man cub who chuckles and runs at Sarge full force. I offer to be Queen Ami dali or what ever her name is because she has rad clothes, but no one listens.
No comments:
Post a Comment