A phone call and a date set up for Tuesday night should be a reason for excitement. I'm not sure I'd use the word excited. More accurately, I'm interested to it. There are some things that have surfaced in conversations that bring concern. I'm trying not to judge.
Without judgment, I think I'll start with the initiation of the contact. It looks like I'll have to initiate all phone calls, pick the dates and times for any subsequent dates and possibly the restaurants. While that sounds like an ideal situation, it sounds like to be a lot of pressure to me. I wouldn't normally tell anyone that I hadn't dated in twenty or so years, let alone someone with whom I was setting up a date.
No smart phone. I'm not a cell phone snob. In fact, many friends will tell you it took me quite some time until I got myself a big girl phone. It's not even named after a piece of fruit. But when I left home without it this morning, I realized I felt a bit lost and like I was missing an important part of my wardrobe. And I don't mean one of those days you rush out of the house without earrings. I imagine it would be like not wearing underwear. No one really knows except you, but it is all you can think about. And it's not even that a smart phone is important. But a tracfone? Does anyone with reasonable credit who is over the age of 19 even own a tracfone? Apparently, the answer is yes. What is most worrisome is that the reasoning behind this decision is the bill that accompanies a smart phone.
"I don't have cable." How does one watch Monday night football? I'm guessing this also has a monetary reason behind it. I don't consider myself to be glued to the TV. I consider it background noise mostly. Except during football season. And the Olympics. And March Madness. Never mind, I like sports. Regardless, cable is necessary for entertainment. I don't think I even want to consider what can be viewed with antennae.
It's not the actual facts that are of concern. What I feel is more of an issue is the philosophy behind it. Saving money for what end? Living within your means was ingrained in me somehow. Nothing makes me crazier than hearing tales of someone in significant debt who places blame on another. You took out a mortgage you can't afford? Your fault. Don't blame the bank. You signed your name 63 times on those forms. Can't afford the credit card bill to support the closet full of designer ______s? It could be shoes, purses, clothes, purses. Maybe it's home improvement projects you can't afford. Or that pretty new car. It could be all of the above. Don't whine. Work hard and get a little self control. I love a good bargain. There is reward in saving for a fabulous vacation. Save for retirement. It's a long, long, very long way off. Someday it will be nearby. But I'm going to live my life. If I weren't making my bills, I'd cut back on cable or cell phone plans or stamping paraphernalia. But FG should get the whole budgeting idea. Is this thrifty or cheap?
No judgment. Well, maybe a little. Lucky for me, judgment is free.
Sunday, July 28, 2013
Friday, July 26, 2013
90 Minutes
An hour and a half over a drink at Barnes and Noble is not bad. I got there early and it wasn't terribly crowded. If I were sitting next to a couple who looked nervous and was having an apparent first conversation, I don't think I'd be able to listen to my own thoughts. I try not to think about that.
The specifics aren't that exciting. Trying to think of a pseudonym for him isn't even that exciting. I'll go with his job- something about financial planning.We were able to talk for 90 minutes without boring the other or running out of things to talk about. I can see getting together again, but only if I call to set it up.
This time, it's the generalities that have my mind occupied. Financial Guy (FG) was telling a story about a friend, who he thinks is a confirmed bachelor. He made his point by saying after a certain age, people don't change. I totally agree with that. I'm probably not going to change much (except that I'm eating better and pretending to be a runner). Neither is he. So if he likes hunting, fishing and antiques, he probably won't be giving that up anytime soon. Not a problem. I support the idea that couples should each have separate interests. Antiques to me looks like old stuff. FG has filled a house and a barn with them. He follows soccer, especially high school. My knowledge of soccer is only what was explained during the World Cup a few years ago. For vacations, he goes hunting and fishing. FG did name some National Parks he wants to visit and I'm good with that for some vacations. But not all. I want sand in my toes every once in a while. He doesn't like the sun, the beach, swimming. Separate interests shouldn't mean separate vacations or separate homes.
The age difference is ten years. He actually asked me how old I am. Even with the caveat that he knows people aren't supposed to ask that, some women might have an problem with that. Luckily I don't. Ten years doesn't bother me now. But I get way ahead of myself and think about when I'm 60 and he's 70. Or when I'm 70 and he's 80. I see friends of my parents who have to take care of a spouse. I can't help but think about things like that. I know I am way ahead of myself for many, many reasons.
So how much can you determine from 90 minutes? I'm not making any major decisions. I will give him a call and set up meeting him for dinner. I want to see if he takes any initiative. I want to see if he makes attempts to contact me on his own. Let's be honest-I'm waiting to see if he pays for dinner.
The specifics aren't that exciting. Trying to think of a pseudonym for him isn't even that exciting. I'll go with his job- something about financial planning.We were able to talk for 90 minutes without boring the other or running out of things to talk about. I can see getting together again, but only if I call to set it up.
This time, it's the generalities that have my mind occupied. Financial Guy (FG) was telling a story about a friend, who he thinks is a confirmed bachelor. He made his point by saying after a certain age, people don't change. I totally agree with that. I'm probably not going to change much (except that I'm eating better and pretending to be a runner). Neither is he. So if he likes hunting, fishing and antiques, he probably won't be giving that up anytime soon. Not a problem. I support the idea that couples should each have separate interests. Antiques to me looks like old stuff. FG has filled a house and a barn with them. He follows soccer, especially high school. My knowledge of soccer is only what was explained during the World Cup a few years ago. For vacations, he goes hunting and fishing. FG did name some National Parks he wants to visit and I'm good with that for some vacations. But not all. I want sand in my toes every once in a while. He doesn't like the sun, the beach, swimming. Separate interests shouldn't mean separate vacations or separate homes.
The age difference is ten years. He actually asked me how old I am. Even with the caveat that he knows people aren't supposed to ask that, some women might have an problem with that. Luckily I don't. Ten years doesn't bother me now. But I get way ahead of myself and think about when I'm 60 and he's 70. Or when I'm 70 and he's 80. I see friends of my parents who have to take care of a spouse. I can't help but think about things like that. I know I am way ahead of myself for many, many reasons.
So how much can you determine from 90 minutes? I'm not making any major decisions. I will give him a call and set up meeting him for dinner. I want to see if he takes any initiative. I want to see if he makes attempts to contact me on his own. Let's be honest-I'm waiting to see if he pays for dinner.
Tuesday, July 23, 2013
Awkward
I've had my share of uncomfortable phone conversations. There have been times I have tried to converse with people who mumble, those who speak quietly (nothing kills a conversation quite like, "What?"), those who mumble with an accent. One time, I actually fell asleep during a rather uninteresting phone call. To my defense, I had a cold and it was late at night. That is a piece of cake compared to someone who doesn't know what to say. At least I hope that's the case. Really, I'm more afraid of 'has nothing to say'.
I got a phone number of someone local who is interested in meeting me. Well, not me exactly, but someone who is single. So shy that, when given my email and cell phone, he still opted for me to call him. And he knew I wanted to meet him. It doesn't get any more of a sure thing. And he still wouldn't make the first call. Good thing I have a set of my own apparently.
As much as I've arranged meeting someone, I will attest that is never really gets easy. First conversations can bring butterflies, or in some cases, waves of nausea. I get that. But I've done this before, so follow my lead.
When I ask you about what sports teams you like, you can ask me what sport teams I like. If you aren't sure if I like sports, you can ask me if I follow any sports. When we're talking about family members, you can ask me about mine. And if I'm in the middle of a sentence, let me finish. It's really not that hard.
So he finally asks me, well interrupts me, to ask if I want to meet for coffee. I was hoping for dinner because I think that allows for the nervousness to subside. But I can live with coffee. (As we know, it is July and I NOT be ordering a hot beverage.) Be prepared to go one step further. Like pick a location. Or pick a time of day to meet. Or pick a day.
I guess I need to look at the end result. There is a plan in place. The one I came up with.
I got a phone number of someone local who is interested in meeting me. Well, not me exactly, but someone who is single. So shy that, when given my email and cell phone, he still opted for me to call him. And he knew I wanted to meet him. It doesn't get any more of a sure thing. And he still wouldn't make the first call. Good thing I have a set of my own apparently.
As much as I've arranged meeting someone, I will attest that is never really gets easy. First conversations can bring butterflies, or in some cases, waves of nausea. I get that. But I've done this before, so follow my lead.
When I ask you about what sports teams you like, you can ask me what sport teams I like. If you aren't sure if I like sports, you can ask me if I follow any sports. When we're talking about family members, you can ask me about mine. And if I'm in the middle of a sentence, let me finish. It's really not that hard.
So he finally asks me, well interrupts me, to ask if I want to meet for coffee. I was hoping for dinner because I think that allows for the nervousness to subside. But I can live with coffee. (As we know, it is July and I NOT be ordering a hot beverage.) Be prepared to go one step further. Like pick a location. Or pick a time of day to meet. Or pick a day.
I guess I need to look at the end result. There is a plan in place. The one I came up with.
Monday, July 15, 2013
Running- there's an app for that.
When you see anyone running, they usually aren't of the 'fluffy' variety. Therefore, I decided I needed to start running. As with any new revelation, I had to purchase the necessary equipment. The people at the running store helped me, looked at my feet, made me balance on one leg and squat a bit, and didn't laugh at me. Mainly because my credit card hasn't reached the max yet. Until I bought shoes there. I usually look for sneakers that are on sale, or at least under $50. I put that aside. I also put aside paying my electric bill this month, since these sneakers cost more than that.
Luckily they are hot pink, which is my favorite color. That should make running easier. We all know good health is about looking fashionable. And to clarify, I'm using the term running loosely. It's more like jogging. A slow jog. Or a fast walk by a tall person. But as a short, fluffy person, it's running for me.
I've also found that I like the Cardio Cinema at the gym. The TVs are too far from the ellipticals and they don't have captioning. In the Cinema, they play movies and I don't have to listen crappy music, weird gym commercials, and the grunting from the power lifters. It's also dark in there. Which is good for hiding sweaty-ness, odd form, and the occasional stumble.
So far, I can spend about 40 minutes on the treadmill. In my own version of interval training, I run for about 90 to 120 seconds, then walk until my shins are no longer feel like they are on fire. Repeat. By counting seconds, I feel like I am running a lot longer than I actually am. In an attempt to see progress, I tried to see if I could run a quarter of a mile without stopping or collapsing. I did. And then I died. Ok, I exaggerate. But I'm not sure my training methods are far from valid. My only qualifications are that I own expensive running shoes.
To remedy this, I also downloaded the Couch to 5K app. So many people have downloaded it, so it must be valid. I like the part where you only 'train' three days a week. I'll start when I get back from Salt Lake City. Because my other necessary equipment isn't complete. My cool neoprene arm band for my phone will be delivered later this week. Then I will officially be a runner.
Luckily they are hot pink, which is my favorite color. That should make running easier. We all know good health is about looking fashionable. And to clarify, I'm using the term running loosely. It's more like jogging. A slow jog. Or a fast walk by a tall person. But as a short, fluffy person, it's running for me.
I've also found that I like the Cardio Cinema at the gym. The TVs are too far from the ellipticals and they don't have captioning. In the Cinema, they play movies and I don't have to listen crappy music, weird gym commercials, and the grunting from the power lifters. It's also dark in there. Which is good for hiding sweaty-ness, odd form, and the occasional stumble.
So far, I can spend about 40 minutes on the treadmill. In my own version of interval training, I run for about 90 to 120 seconds, then walk until my shins are no longer feel like they are on fire. Repeat. By counting seconds, I feel like I am running a lot longer than I actually am. In an attempt to see progress, I tried to see if I could run a quarter of a mile without stopping or collapsing. I did. And then I died. Ok, I exaggerate. But I'm not sure my training methods are far from valid. My only qualifications are that I own expensive running shoes.
To remedy this, I also downloaded the Couch to 5K app. So many people have downloaded it, so it must be valid. I like the part where you only 'train' three days a week. I'll start when I get back from Salt Lake City. Because my other necessary equipment isn't complete. My cool neoprene arm band for my phone will be delivered later this week. Then I will officially be a runner.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Chest pain
No one wants to use the term chest pain. Monday night I realized that any time I took a deep breath, I felt a stabbing pain in my back, up high and just on one side. (I blamed it on mowing my lawn and trimming some tree limbs in bit of rage inspired by bad customer service at a big name company.) I hate taking pills, any kind of pills. As a child, I prolonged learning to swallow pills and made a big production out of it. I still avoid taking pills with water because I think I can taste them. I won't even get into the frequency of gagging and the feeling that my stomach is going to revolt.
I wait until Tuesday to break down and take some Advil. Twice in fact, which is a big deal for me. That is how much it hurt. When there was no improvement, I conclude that Advil is worthless and I shouldn't bother. On Wednesday, I took Advil once more because the pain is now in the front part of my chest and I can't get comfortable trying to lie down. Inhaling deeply is still painful and I find myself taking many shallow breaths to avoid pain, then bracing myself to take one deep breath. Very weird. Advil does nothing, once again, thus proving my earlier conclusion.
I start to consider all the terrible things that could be causing this. I know enough about modern medicine to be dangerous. And I'm flying to Salt Lake City on Wednesday. I don't want to jeopardize this trip with some awful malady or hospital stay. And dear Lord, I might have someone fixing me up on a 'double date' on Tuesday. I certainly can't risk that.
I imagine calling my family doctor and describing the reason I want to be seen today. I just know they will hear the phrase 'chest pain' and tell me to go to the ER. No one wants to go to the ER, especially during summer vacation. So I decide to visit an urgent care. For some reason, I feel they are better equipped to deal with this. I know this doesn't make a ton of sense, but one with chest pain that lasts for four days doesn't have much sense.
I wanted to describe my symptoms as, "upper right quadrant pain but I already had my gallbladder out". I didn't. But the doc was leading that way immediately and I got to tell her anyway. So after two chest x-rays, she tells me it is muscular. I get a pain killer (nothing really strong) and a muscle relaxer. Due poor sleeping from chest pain, my sleep was restless to begin with. I knew a nap was on the agenda. Add a muscle relaxer and I lost the afternoon and most of the evening. My lazy, old dogs don't mind napping and nap we did. Most of the afternoon, and a chunk of the evening.
The true test will be the second dose. If I still sleep well and can breathe deeply, I might just believe in pills. Wake me in time for fall.
I wait until Tuesday to break down and take some Advil. Twice in fact, which is a big deal for me. That is how much it hurt. When there was no improvement, I conclude that Advil is worthless and I shouldn't bother. On Wednesday, I took Advil once more because the pain is now in the front part of my chest and I can't get comfortable trying to lie down. Inhaling deeply is still painful and I find myself taking many shallow breaths to avoid pain, then bracing myself to take one deep breath. Very weird. Advil does nothing, once again, thus proving my earlier conclusion.
I start to consider all the terrible things that could be causing this. I know enough about modern medicine to be dangerous. And I'm flying to Salt Lake City on Wednesday. I don't want to jeopardize this trip with some awful malady or hospital stay. And dear Lord, I might have someone fixing me up on a 'double date' on Tuesday. I certainly can't risk that.
I imagine calling my family doctor and describing the reason I want to be seen today. I just know they will hear the phrase 'chest pain' and tell me to go to the ER. No one wants to go to the ER, especially during summer vacation. So I decide to visit an urgent care. For some reason, I feel they are better equipped to deal with this. I know this doesn't make a ton of sense, but one with chest pain that lasts for four days doesn't have much sense.
I wanted to describe my symptoms as, "upper right quadrant pain but I already had my gallbladder out". I didn't. But the doc was leading that way immediately and I got to tell her anyway. So after two chest x-rays, she tells me it is muscular. I get a pain killer (nothing really strong) and a muscle relaxer. Due poor sleeping from chest pain, my sleep was restless to begin with. I knew a nap was on the agenda. Add a muscle relaxer and I lost the afternoon and most of the evening. My lazy, old dogs don't mind napping and nap we did. Most of the afternoon, and a chunk of the evening.
The true test will be the second dose. If I still sleep well and can breathe deeply, I might just believe in pills. Wake me in time for fall.
Sunday, July 7, 2013
Hot
I'm hot. And not in a good way. It's July and we're in the midst of a brutal heat wave. All heat waves are rough, but this one has heat indexes around 100+ degrees and the humidity so thick you can hold it in your hand.
Most people I know love summer and thrive on the opportunity to be outside, enjoying warm temps and the activities that go along with them. Me? I enjoy finding a place that is air conditioned. The bad news? It's getting worse as I get older. The good news? I haven't found any, but I'll keep you posted.
Dating in summer poses a significant problem for me. In any normal dating situation, and I'm playing it fast and loose with the word normal, I get a little nervous and a little clammy. Ok, a lot clammy. Add high heat and it's not pretty. Think drippy. It's hard to subtly wipe the sweat trailing down your neck while smiling coyly. And then I have to worry if the tissue left little white bits of lint as the telltale sign that I'm sweaty. Because I have short hair, I think it becomes more noticeable. Not only do you see my neck, but you also see when my hair is completely wet. Oh, help me.
Think of the impact. Summer activities like a nice walk, perhaps a game of mini golf have to wait until September or risk an ugly scene. I enjoy canoeing and hiking but can't consider those until after a few dates have been established. Going for ice cream? Only if we're eating inside. Dining al fresco? Maybe I'll be lucky and it will look like a storm is brewing. That's a good excuse to eat inside.
By September, I reach a bit of a reprieve. It's usually cooled off enough to consider enjoying fresh air. But it's a long time until September. It's almost a lucky break I don't have dates set up for now. Did I just say that?
Most people I know love summer and thrive on the opportunity to be outside, enjoying warm temps and the activities that go along with them. Me? I enjoy finding a place that is air conditioned. The bad news? It's getting worse as I get older. The good news? I haven't found any, but I'll keep you posted.
Dating in summer poses a significant problem for me. In any normal dating situation, and I'm playing it fast and loose with the word normal, I get a little nervous and a little clammy. Ok, a lot clammy. Add high heat and it's not pretty. Think drippy. It's hard to subtly wipe the sweat trailing down your neck while smiling coyly. And then I have to worry if the tissue left little white bits of lint as the telltale sign that I'm sweaty. Because I have short hair, I think it becomes more noticeable. Not only do you see my neck, but you also see when my hair is completely wet. Oh, help me.
Think of the impact. Summer activities like a nice walk, perhaps a game of mini golf have to wait until September or risk an ugly scene. I enjoy canoeing and hiking but can't consider those until after a few dates have been established. Going for ice cream? Only if we're eating inside. Dining al fresco? Maybe I'll be lucky and it will look like a storm is brewing. That's a good excuse to eat inside.
By September, I reach a bit of a reprieve. It's usually cooled off enough to consider enjoying fresh air. But it's a long time until September. It's almost a lucky break I don't have dates set up for now. Did I just say that?
Thursday, July 4, 2013
And I wait.
As predicted, or expected- I'm not sure which, no contact from South Jersey. I email Lisa, the Dating Coordinator to politely explain that a two hour distance (let's be honest- is there ever a time there isn't traffic?) isn't reasonable. Then I realize she doesn't have to be reasonable. She's got far more power than one woman other than FLOTUS should.
So my summer has been filled with lots of inane things that I'm now going to tell you about:
1. Gutter Guards- This was a long overdue home maintenance project that made me happier than it should. No one person should get this excited about gutter guards. I will no longer have to get out my ladder, perch one step above the red letters "do not stand above this step", and reach blindly into soggy gunk. And this happened about twice in the spring (early and late) and then twice again in the fall. It was an ER visit just waiting to happen. I am able to sleep better knowing this is taken care of.
2. Extra counter space- Nothing is ever simple. I wanted a microwave installed over my range. But the cabinet was too low. No pot would have fit on the stove unless I planned to cook everything in a skillet for the rest of my life. How would I can? So I needed the cabinet bumped up too. And then we find out the circuit is the same one as the living room. (What?) So it's best to get an electrician to add another line or circuit or something. I didn't really pay attention because I don't care. I just don't want to have to turn off the TV in order to use the microwave. It's a delicate balance. So handy guy removes hood and cabinet, big box store delivers microwave (which looks far too big to fit in the designated spot), electrician does whatever, handy guy returns to install microwave and reinstall cabinet, dogs bark at each new person who enters the kitchen. It's a good time. Who wants a microwave?
3. The vet- I have no idea what the phone number is to my family doctor. Not only do I know the number for my vet by heart, but I can usually tell who answers the phone before they identify themselves. So it's Kissy's turn to get her teeth cleaned. She hardly has any left, I figure it's best to take good care of them. Poor girl had 25 teeth removed last July. She's got 16 left in the front (8 on top, 8 on the bottom) and I think a random one or two in the back. I didn't even realize dogs had that many teeth. Since I can hear her breathing, or should I say snoring since she sleeps about 22 hours a day, I ask them to check her lungs before anesthesia. My favorite vet listens to her lungs, but says they'll take an x-ray just in case. Cha-ching. Which of course shows bronchitis. Nothing is ever simple. So three weeks of antibiotics. Then we'll go in at 8 am (I don't like doing much of anything at 8 am in the summer), take another x-ray, and if it's cleared up, then we'll clean her teeth. Cha-ching, cha-ching.
4. Canning- I've been planning, reorganizing jars, scouting new recipes and watching what is coming into season with a watchful eye. I tried a few new recipes. Corn salsa was tasty but turned out to not be shelf stable. Pickled beets need a few days to pickle as do the pickled carrots. I'll probably try them this week. Cowboy Candy needs no test run. Just time to generate the sweet, delicious heat. I think Corn Relish that I know will be shelf stable when water bath canned is next. I might even try cherries. Just cherries. Nothing crazy like pickled cherries, which really does exist apparently for cocktails. As a note, I've seen recipes for pickled cherries, pickled blueberries and pickled peaches. I haven't had the nerve to try them. I'm still regretting the bushel of pickles (regular ones from cukes) that were way too sour from last summer.
5. Obsessive personality- My minor epiphany: I don't know the definition of moderation. Look at my craft room. Chock full of things I 'need' but don't really touch that often. Look at my collection of fabric. I barely sew but think I can. I made some fabric flowers a few years ago and thought I should buy more fabric. I bought patterns and fabric then realized I hate cutting out patterns. Look at the jars in my garage. Some are still full from last year. I have a case of crushed tomatoes. An entire case. And I only made crushed tomatoes after I made salsa, marinara, roasted garlic marinara, bruschetta, and more salsa. I'd say that was obsessive. I couldn't resist when I found tomatoes. Seconds called my name. When I found a half bushel of Romas late in September, I took it as a sign since they are the best for sauce and I hadn't made anything with Romas that season. I'd say that was obsessive. I think I have a problem. I'm not sure there is a 12 step program for this, but I do know admitting it is the first step.
So my summer has been filled with lots of inane things that I'm now going to tell you about:
1. Gutter Guards- This was a long overdue home maintenance project that made me happier than it should. No one person should get this excited about gutter guards. I will no longer have to get out my ladder, perch one step above the red letters "do not stand above this step", and reach blindly into soggy gunk. And this happened about twice in the spring (early and late) and then twice again in the fall. It was an ER visit just waiting to happen. I am able to sleep better knowing this is taken care of.
2. Extra counter space- Nothing is ever simple. I wanted a microwave installed over my range. But the cabinet was too low. No pot would have fit on the stove unless I planned to cook everything in a skillet for the rest of my life. How would I can? So I needed the cabinet bumped up too. And then we find out the circuit is the same one as the living room. (What?) So it's best to get an electrician to add another line or circuit or something. I didn't really pay attention because I don't care. I just don't want to have to turn off the TV in order to use the microwave. It's a delicate balance. So handy guy removes hood and cabinet, big box store delivers microwave (which looks far too big to fit in the designated spot), electrician does whatever, handy guy returns to install microwave and reinstall cabinet, dogs bark at each new person who enters the kitchen. It's a good time. Who wants a microwave?
3. The vet- I have no idea what the phone number is to my family doctor. Not only do I know the number for my vet by heart, but I can usually tell who answers the phone before they identify themselves. So it's Kissy's turn to get her teeth cleaned. She hardly has any left, I figure it's best to take good care of them. Poor girl had 25 teeth removed last July. She's got 16 left in the front (8 on top, 8 on the bottom) and I think a random one or two in the back. I didn't even realize dogs had that many teeth. Since I can hear her breathing, or should I say snoring since she sleeps about 22 hours a day, I ask them to check her lungs before anesthesia. My favorite vet listens to her lungs, but says they'll take an x-ray just in case. Cha-ching. Which of course shows bronchitis. Nothing is ever simple. So three weeks of antibiotics. Then we'll go in at 8 am (I don't like doing much of anything at 8 am in the summer), take another x-ray, and if it's cleared up, then we'll clean her teeth. Cha-ching, cha-ching.
4. Canning- I've been planning, reorganizing jars, scouting new recipes and watching what is coming into season with a watchful eye. I tried a few new recipes. Corn salsa was tasty but turned out to not be shelf stable. Pickled beets need a few days to pickle as do the pickled carrots. I'll probably try them this week. Cowboy Candy needs no test run. Just time to generate the sweet, delicious heat. I think Corn Relish that I know will be shelf stable when water bath canned is next. I might even try cherries. Just cherries. Nothing crazy like pickled cherries, which really does exist apparently for cocktails. As a note, I've seen recipes for pickled cherries, pickled blueberries and pickled peaches. I haven't had the nerve to try them. I'm still regretting the bushel of pickles (regular ones from cukes) that were way too sour from last summer.
5. Obsessive personality- My minor epiphany: I don't know the definition of moderation. Look at my craft room. Chock full of things I 'need' but don't really touch that often. Look at my collection of fabric. I barely sew but think I can. I made some fabric flowers a few years ago and thought I should buy more fabric. I bought patterns and fabric then realized I hate cutting out patterns. Look at the jars in my garage. Some are still full from last year. I have a case of crushed tomatoes. An entire case. And I only made crushed tomatoes after I made salsa, marinara, roasted garlic marinara, bruschetta, and more salsa. I'd say that was obsessive. I couldn't resist when I found tomatoes. Seconds called my name. When I found a half bushel of Romas late in September, I took it as a sign since they are the best for sauce and I hadn't made anything with Romas that season. I'd say that was obsessive. I think I have a problem. I'm not sure there is a 12 step program for this, but I do know admitting it is the first step.
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