Blackberry disaster
I consider myself a reasonably intelligent person. I’m doubting that tonight. This year I decided to learn how to can food. This week I have conquered rose petal jam, two varieties of blueberry jam, and strawberry-honey butter. Then there were the blackberries. I love blackberry jam, but I’m not fond of picking seeds out of my teeth so I had the great idea of using my brand new kitchen aid attachment to remove the seeds. At first it was wonderful it was spitting the seeds out the end and my blackberries were being crushed and going down into my bowl. I was getting confident I could do this. Then it exploded, literally. The plastic piece that holds it all together had snapped. I was wearing blackberries, they were in my hair, my face, on my backsplash, my countertop, stove, white cupboards, dishwasher, floor, wall, and crock pot. A million towels later. I borrowed a food mill had finished the jelly and cleaned up the mess. Then I looked up. Humans should never look up. I have blackberries on my ceiling.
I may need therapy.