RIP Cuisinart — Janet Szabo

My 31-year-old Cuisinart food processor—a wedding present from my MIL—gave up the ghost yesterday. I went to turn it on and . . . nothing. I plugged it into a different outlet. Still nothing. I was able to save the recipe by using a smaller backup Cuisinart machine, but that one isn’t as nice as my main machine. My MIL was very serious about her kitchen appliances, so she bought me the (in 1990) top-of-the-line professional 14-cup model with all the accessories. It has seen me through many a canning season.

The husband thinks the switch went bad. He also thinks that he can take the switch from the smaller machine and transplant it to the larger one, but I know he doesn’t have time to do that right now. And it’s canning season and I need a food processor. I ordered myself a replacement machine. I think that after 31 years, I probably deserve one. I got a similar 14-cup model so that I can continue to use my collection of blades.

And if the husband can resurrect the old machine by fixing the switch, then I’ll still have a backup machine just in case, because we all know that the new machine probably won’t last 31 years.

Two is one and one is none.

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I wore one of my me-made T-shirts to town yesterday. A young woman in one of the stores told me that she liked my shirt, and I was able to say, “Thank you—I made it myself.” It is such a relief to be able to put on a piece of clothing that fits without constantly having to be tugging at it and readjusting it.

I was joking with the husband the other day that my fashion aesthetic during the summer can best be described as “Polish housewife.” It would be more accurate to say “Slovak housewife,” but Polish housewife is more familiar imagery, I think. I wear knee-length denim skirts in the summer because they are cooler than pants. Combine that with a top, the ubiquitous apron, and a pair of muck boots and I am quite the picture. My hair is long enough—and it has been hot enough—that I have been wearing it up most of the time, although it’s not covered with a babushka. My grandmother always used to tell me that I reminded her of her mother. The only thing I don’t have that Grandma Gargus had is geese. She was a braver woman than I. I have my hands full with those goofy roosters.

When I separated Baby and Dave, I put three pullets and the juvenile rooster in with Baby. We noticed a few days ago that there were even more hens in with Baby. They must have flown over the fencing or snuck in when the door was open. Maybe Dave isn’t quite the studmuffin that he thinks he is.

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Peas 2.0 have sprouted!

I didn’t think it would take long in this heat. Now I just need to keep them watered.

Plans are coming together for our community garden tour at the end of the month. I am one of five gardeners on the tour. My friend Robin is going to be my “host.” Her job will be to manage the logistics of people coming to the garden, which will free me up to talk about plants, chickens, and pigs. I’m a bit sad that attendees will see so much black plastic (I do grow things, really!), but that’s part of the food production process here, too. Next year’s garden will be much nicer without the wood sorrel and the quackgrass.

And today should be the last day of 90+ degree heat. Let’s hope. The weekend is looking particularly pleasant with forecast highs in the 70s and even some rain. I am planning to spend several hours in the garden on Saturday doing some cleanup work.

I scored another one-yard chunk of ponte knit fabric off the remnant rack yesterday, this time in dark green. I think I am going to use the dark green for the first iteration of the Kensington skirt just in case the pattern needs some tweaking.