Practicing My MeeMaw Skills

 I fucked up today. I simply fucked up. I think though, that I may have learned a lesson. 

Those beautiful peaches were calling to me. A few of them had started getting some bad spots on them and I was not about to lose one of those gorgeous things to time and sloth. 
That's how I felt, anyway. That by not making preserves, I was being slothful and of course wasteful and losing a prime opportunity to restock the peach preserve part of the pantry. Here I go with the "p's" again. 
And honestly, making the preserves did not take that much work or energy. I blanched those gorgeous fruits and slipped the peels from them, pitted them and cut them into smallish pieces, mashed them up with sugar and lemon juice and set them on the stove to cook.

I simmered them without a lid for over an hour until the fruit was translucent and the liquid was thickening and then I filled the jars I'd washed and sterilized in the canner and sealed them up with their lids and rings and processed them for ten minutes in the boiling water. 
Not really that big of a chore. 

And look what I got!

Four quarts and two full pints. The little jar that's about a third full is holding what didn't fit into the other jars and I did not even bother processing it. I am calling it "The Tasting Jar."

And those preserves taste delicious. 

And all would have been fine if I had not decided to make a gumbo. I have no idea why I thought this would be a great idea. I mean, gumbo is generally a great idea but it is a labor intensive one-pot meal. Peppers, onions, and celery must be chopped. Shrimp must be peeled and the shells made into a stock. Sausage must be rendered a bit to avoid all the fat. And then of course, there is the roux which is oil and flour that must be stirred constantly over a medium flame until it is the color of an old penny which takes at least twenty minutes. The vegetables must then be sautéed in the roux and the stock strained and added along with cut-up okra and tomatoes. Garlic and spices must be added. And then it all needs to cook down for awhile until it's time to eat at which point you put in the shrimp. 
Oh. One needs rice, too. 
And after all of this chopping and rendering and roux-making is complete, your kitchen will, in fact, be a huge mess. 

So I was at the stage where I had the vegetables ready in a bowl, waiting their turn to cook, the stock simmering on one burner, the sausage cooking on another burner, and had just set my pot on a third burner to start the roux when Mr. Moon came into the kitchen thinking that he was going to make popcorn which we make on the stove in the incredible Whirley Pop Popcorn Maker and if you don't have one of those and you love popcorn, you need to get one. 
That, however, is neither here nor there. What happened is that when I realized that the man thought that he was going to interrupt my gumbo flow he had another think coming. 
My entire being flooded with the desire to scream or perhaps to just lie down on the kitchen floor and sob. Or perhaps scream, then collapse. 
I was so exhausted. 
I realized though, that there was nothing wrong with him wanting some popcorn. I was the one who had determined that tonight we needed gumbo after I spent half the day making peach preserves. Not him. He had nothing to do with that. He would have been happy with a peanut butter sandwich for supper. 
So I shooed him out of the kitchen and made his popcorn because it takes him half an hour and it takes me approximately seven minutes and he always gets butter all over the microwave when he melts it, etc., etc. 

Anyway, the gumbo is simmering on the stove so that is done and I have used up the okra that I got at the Winn Dixie on Monday which was my main goal, I guess, and now the kitchen smells so good that I'm pretty thrilled I made it. 

But Lord, I am tired. 

And I couldn't be happier with my peach preserves. 
I will tell you this, though- if I do not want to do a damn thing tomorrow, I will not do a damn thing. 

Not one damn thing. 

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Maggie Face Timed me last night to show me her new hair-cut and the new red streak she has in her hair. Adorable, of course. I asked her how she liked her new teacher. She, too, had school orientation a few days ago. 
"She's lovely!" said Maggie. 
That child cracks me up. I'm pretty sure that when I was going into the third grade, I did not toss around adjectives like "lovely." 
"Well, you are lovely too," I told her. And she is. 

Pretty as a peach. And I do know a pretty peach when I see one. 

Love...Ms. Moon