In the summers of my youth, it meant the Top Songs of All Time on the radio, playing all weekend until Sunday night when they would reveal the Number One Song. This weekend was the same, and different.
I’m not sure what the number is that separates a lot from not a lot of jars, but I’m pretty sure I’m looking at it in the rearview mirror.
It would be easy to become morose with the things that aren’t going to (or can’t) happen this year. But you know, if I focus on the things I don’t get to have, I won’t focus on the things I do.
Every September, I inventory the jars in my basement to ensure that there are enough get La Famiglia through the crappy-tomato-months of winter. And no matter what the total, I’m never convinced it’s actually enough.
I’m going to look for reasons to feel amused and joyful. And dogpile on that like it’s my job.
One day I had a wreath, and the next day I didn’t. And then I found my wreath on someone else’s door. What’s a girl to do?
If you’re going to go to the effort, you might as well make a whole bunch of these. If your house is like mine (or my parents, or any of my aunts or cousins), they’ll disappear right from the plate while you’re making them and from the fridge if you’ve made them ahead of time. Make lots.
At the Casa Di Swears, we have a detached garage that has never, in 8 years, had a car in it. That’s because it’s not a garage, it’s a garage-sized workshop. But it’s also the home of the snow-blower, the generator, the lawn mower, 3 bikes, the crossbow target cube… many, many things that are […]