The travel season is upon us. We all want to look great for the family (especially if you have those in-laws, let us be honest.) But I personally don’t want to see my checked baggage rummaged through or thrown carelessly about, or worse-LOST. So I carry on my baggage whenever I possibly can. I actually had an airline employee take my carry on luggage when they ran out of room for carry-ons in the overhead compartments. I begged him no, and explained to him I had lost luggage before. He promised it would make it. It did not. I froze in Montana in December for two days until it was returned.
But the 3 ounce clear Ziploc regulations make everything so hard! So we break down out 3 favorite travel size products to make your holidays a bit easier.
p.s- During your many family and social gatherings, keep a level head with those that rub you the wrong way. I accomplish this with Kentucky Straight Bourbon.
As the holidays quickly rush towards me, I am approached more and more for donations to this or that. Business-wise I have never found them to be client generating, but really it’s about the give, right? So this year we decided to collect food for our local food bank, Second Harvest.
Our barrel will be with us until December 20th, and it’s very big. I have to admit, I have some trepidation that we won’t be able to fill it within our small shop and its clientele. I realize that any donation is helping the bank, but a full barrel would be so great. So we’re putting the word out to our clients to bring a donation to their next appointment, and the center we are located in has a lot of foot traffic. Fingers crossed for our first food drive!
You crossed the Rainbow Bridge yesterday, hopefully into the loving circle of the four others in our fur family that went before you. You were the first in and last out of our five fur kids. I knew you would be the most complex to let go, since you and I have been together half my life. 18 1/2 years is a good long run for the runt Calico with a big mouth and even bigger attitude.
My milk went unmolested this morning, but I won’t miss cleaning a cat box. I got no chin snuggles last night, but I also didn’t have to give you iv fluids to keep your elder body hydrated. I won’t have anyone to share my Cheetos with today, or to loudly greet me when I come home, as if my leaving was some sort of personal offense to you. I’ve certainly never had a cat that talked so much. Ever. Or yelled. But I won’t miss vet bills. The conflicted emotions of not needing now to honor the promise I made to you when you were eight weeks old, that I would fiercely love, worship, and protect you to the bitter end, cause me guilt, pain, relief, sorrow…… And as I wander around this now empty house gathering all of your things to put in the attic, I see. A paw under the bathroom door, a twitching tail baiting the dog, a thundering herd of one tearing through the dining room, a lonely laundry basket, and 18 1/2 years of my life well, well worth living with you. Mama loves.
I’m an active pickler, but I haven’t delved into a lot of other canning. They scare me! Ptomaine this, botulism that, who wants to give their friends and family food poisoning?!
But I make a lot of spaghetti sauce, and making it with my own canned tomatoes is an inviting idea. So, I attempt one lowly jar of tomatoes in my canning bath with a batch of pickles.
The recipe is easy. Peel the tomatoes and put them in the jar with 1 teaspoon of lemon juice to balance out acidity and kill botulism as it matures. Great, my #1 worry come to pass. I put the jar into the canning bath and set the timer for a long 85 minute processing time. Thirty minutes in I yell out a string of expletives, realizing I forgot the death-averting lemon juice. Failure.
It cools on the counter, waiting to be tossed. I’m so mad at this point I get in the car, drive to the fruit stand, and buy more tomatoes because now I have something to prove. Sterlizing more jars, remembering the wretched lemon, I cook on, for 85 long, hot minutes.
My stove was working overtime. It was a lot of work for two prideful jars of darned tomatoes!