Not So Much With the Sage

So when weather forecasts started suggesting that this weekend may be a wee bit snowy in my part of the world, I thought that the time was right for a small canning project. Nothing like applesauce, God forbid, or peaches but rather something more on the order of, say, Lemon Sage Wine Mustard. Yes, a few jars of a little something that I could set aside for gifting, that would kill a little snow storm time and which required only that I hit the local grocery for one teeny thing since I had the rest on hand already. No problem! I figured I'd stop by Wegmans on my way home from work, pick up the sage and Look! Out! World! canning would ensue.

Right. Having grown up in Western New York, where blizzard planning is a minor religion, I forget that it's not really possible, the night before any amount of snow is expected in my adopted hometown, to go grab something quickly. I swear, thousands of people had nearly the same thought as I at exactly the same time I could not get near the place.

For some reason, one never hears of the last minute insulin pick-up, or batteries for the oxygen tank or whatever. No, it's always the bread and milk. I like to have these things on hand, too, but certainly can go 24-36 hours without. What gives? Whatever, I'm sure that entire dissertations have been written on the subject by greater minds than my own. In the end I I gave up in favor of a quick stop at the library for romance novels and thus have no sage.


We ended up seeing about 14 inches of snow over about sixteen hours (for those of you who use the metric system of measurement, this is about 98 gazillion metres). So, no mustard. Instead I spent the day reading (hi, Jill Shalvis!), drinking a serviceable wine and eating candy hearts. Not bad, all things considered, even if the canning didn't happen.


Tomorrow brings, assuming adequate road clean-up, a birthday party, a New Orleans Saints victory parade and accompanying game of some kind, and very likely more wine.


What a great weekend.