Applesauce

Sometimes, I have misplaced priorities.  I inherited that from my mother.

This morning, for example, I spent a couple of hours making applesauce.  The apples were picked in October, and they have been awaiting their fate in the garage, and in the lower right bin in the refrigerator.  I needed to clean the fridge anyway.  And it was my last chance to make applesauce and date the jars 2013.  Our next chance for applesauce will be 2014.  So I made applesauce.

As I made applesauce, I watched the snow fall out the window, and wondered if we should drive 50 miles through the snow to a family party, or not.

And then, while waiting for the apples to soften, I cleaned the fridge, one shelf at a time, sorting through condiments and throwing away the last of the pomegranate seeds from thanksgiving.

Stacked on my dresser are two suitcases worth of summer clothes, for next week, when we will be far away from applesauce, snow, and family.  A large bucket of water is warming in the living room.  Tomorrow, we will put Mr Fish in there, while we disassemble his tank, reassemble it at my aunt's house down the street, and then move him to his new home.  Tim keeps checking items off our packing list, even as I write.  We need to make sure we take appropriate devices, cables, headsets, chargers, plug adapters.  Do we pack sandals, or buy them there?  Sunscreen.  How many winter clothes do I need to make it through Christmas?  And still we have no home lined up.

So I made applesauce.  We gave up on the snow ever stopping, and decided not to brave the drive to the family party.  When the applesauce was finished, quart jars cooling on a rack, I mopped the floor.  Tim folded laundry.  We played video games -- the ones we can't take with us.

Yesterday we said goodbye to friends we won't see until 6th grade.  Tomorrow we will pack in earnest.

 Today, I made applesauce.