Things You Never Thought You Would Hear Me Say ...

I bought a water-bath canner this morning.

As in something to can fruit in Mason or Ball jars and put on shelves.

As in something ... domestic. Not only that, but something domestic that conjures up images of the small town, monochromatic mentality I've run from my entire life.

Except, it has to do with food, so one shouldn't really be too surprised.

Blame it on my dad. When I went to visit while on maternity leave last fall, I brought down a carload of apples. Dad, my sister and I spent our days making applesauce, apple juice and apple jelly.

None of us had canned before. We had "peeled, cut and stuffed," but Mom always did the "work." Since his retirement, however, Dad has become quite the domestic diva that none of us ever quite achieved ... canning, pickling, dry packing, making bread ... and signing Mom and himself up for a preserving class.

I think I was in a post-partum delirum, because I found myself thinking, "this is fun!"

Now to figure out how to recruit Dad to come visit when the canner arrives. After all, I'm not so domesticated as to slave away in a hot kitchen mid-summer with an apron on all by myself.

Not yet, anyway.