The attack of the honey goat

So my boss’s goat keeps breaking 4 pound jars of honey. That little bastard has broken two 4-pound jars of honey in two days. 

My first task at work yesterday morning was to clean up the mess from the broken jar of honey. I got it cleaned up, and the bits of broken glass went in the trash can. Which was overflowing.  So I pulled the bag out and headed to the designated spot for trash for the day. As I rounded the corner, the bag bounced off a table and slammed into my leg. A piece of the broken glass sliced my calf open. I could tell by the way it felt that it wasn’t good. When I looked at it, I threw up in my mouth a little. It made me think of dissecting a chicken.

After I made myself look away, I grabbed a clean towel from the pile to stop the bleeding, and went hopping around looking for the boss because I knew I needed help. The boss spotted me before I could find him and asked what was wrong. 

Side note: I’m pretty sure I looked absolutely ridiculous, hobbling around squishing a towel into my calf, helplessly trying to figure out a discreet way to scream for my boss. Thank heaven I didn’t actually have to figure that one out because I’m pretty sure I never could have done it.

I explained what happened and asked him to see if the BBQ guys had any butterfly bandages in their first aid kit. As the boss and Brother Hill were digging through the kit, I hobbled around in circles squishing the towel onto the cut until I realized that I was hobbling in circles at the end of a picnic table and decided I should probably sit down. 

Cleaning that fucker didn’t feel good. As I complained “that stings!!!” Brother Hill said he was trying to find the stuff that would sting worse. Butterfly bandages wouldn’t hold it shut at all, so Brother Hill pulled out closure straps. My boss got me patched up pretty well and covered it all with a few bandaid.

Of course, I sweated the bandaid off. More than once throughout the day. 

Photographic proof

The boss actually had it closed up really nicely, but Sunshine couldn’t find any closure straps so it’s definitely going to leave a big,  ugly scar since I refuse to incur the medical bills for stitches. 

What Sunshine DVD wind up bringing home was some shit called “new skin”, smelled like acetone, and burned like the acid in Satan’s venomous spit. That was the first time I made any noise other than a whimper. My non-breathing ass actually smoked an entire non-menthol cigarette. 

It still hurts from Satan’s venomous spit this morning. I think I’m going to have something chocolate & peanut butter for breakfast. Because that’s how my crybaby ass does adulting today.

The ugly window

Sunshine added a window to the house plans. It might take us some time to get a geothermal system set up, and he needed to make sure we had a window to hold an air conditioner because nobody wants to sweat inside their home in this brutal Texas heat.

Side note: also, I breathe so much more easily when I am in cool air.

The (fugly ass) window he used is one that was salvaged off of some random construction project he worked on somewhere (yay freeganism!), so I’m not pitching too much of a fit over it. The frame that our carpenter built for it is beautiful, and the double paned glass is still sealed so it will function well. I just hate hate hate the white frame and the white faux pane thingies. I prefer plate glass, with an uninterrupted view of what’s on the other side.

Pancho was hearing me whine about how fugly it is and had a brilliant suggestion: shutters. I can put shutters over it so I don’t have to look at the fugly white panes thingies. This is one of many reasons we like Pancho. He has also been to cooking school, which is amazing beyond words since he’s helping me learn new stuff. I digress.

Without further ado, I give you the fugly window.

It’s in our bedroom, of all the damned places to put a fugly window. Gotta get to work on finding some shutters.

Freeganism

One of the perks of my job is the backdoor fruit. One of the perks of living in the buttfuck middle of nowhere is that everybody plants too much shit and we start giving bags and bags of peppers away to random strangers we meet at fourth of July BBQs.

side note: yes, that actually happened. Someone we met at a fourth of July BBQ totally gave us three overstuffed, double bagged plastic sacks filled with various types of peppers. Green bell peppers, jalapenos, and hot banana peppers.

Recently, the boss gave me a quarter bushel of pickling cucumbers and almost an entire bushel of spaghetti squash. There were also some tomatoes and fruits that went out the backdoor over the last week or so.

We also have a pear tree in our backyard and Sunshine recently picked some pears off of it for me because I love pears.

That’s a lot of freegan food to figure out what to do with. I sent my girl Tia a panicked text asking her to please help me figure out how on earth to preserve a bushel of spaghetti squashes. That woman is a fucking wizard at finding simple solutions to my random and complicated problems.

So, on Sunday, while I was sweating my ass off trying to keep the shelves stocked on a mad busy day at the produce stand, Sunshine started baking the spaghetti squashes so we could freeze them. I finished the job on Monday in between rounds of canning.

The bell peppers and spaghetti squash got frozen.

The jalapenos and banana peppers got canned.

The fruit I brought home from work wound up getting combined with the tomatoes in a summer salsa recipe I found in one of my Ball guides to preserving food. I was highly amused that there was a recipe that dealt with a significant portion of the random foods I brought home from work. There is a salsa that has pears, peaches, tomatoes, and peppers.

The rest of the tomatoes got diced and canned. The pickling cucumbers got made into Cajun dill pickles.

freegan cucumbers and tomatoes

Slowly but surely, we are filling up those shelves in the community pantry.

final note: I’m a bit nervous about using that pressure canner. I’ll be spending the next few days doing some research on the damned thing so I don’t blow myself to smithereens. Then, hopefully, we can harvest enough of those ridiculous yard long green beans to put that canner to work.

Stocking up

Recently, Mr B and I had a little pow-wow about ordering up some more jars. We agreed upon an order of pint jars and I ordered them up. I threw in some pickling salt since it was on special.

Then I realized that I was going to need a pressure canner soon to deal with beans and peas. So I asked Mr B if he’d use his Amazon Prime 2 day to get it here quick.

Yesterday, all the things arrived at once. We had more than one delivery truck in the yard bringing us goodies.

The shelves are starting to fill up with supplies and equipment.

Now, I’ve got to get a fall garden planted so I can have a use for that equipment.

Bigger in Texas

When I was out and about searching for seeds for beans to plant, I saw a package of the weirdest green beans that I had ever seen. It’s called the yard long green bean or something.

Of course, being the weirdo that I am, I had to buy some and give them a try.

We picked a couple the other day and ate them raw just out of curiosity. They’re really sweet. I think that this shall be the green beans I plant from this day forward. That’s a lot of green beans to can from not a lot of plants.

 

Filling the shelves

I’ve progressed from jam to pickled things. I pickled those chard stems and turnips. I pickled some sweet Armenian cucumbers. Then I found out Mrs B likes pickled okra, so I made her some pickled okra out of some backdoor okra from work. I still had Armenian cucumbers to do something with, so I made some spicy pickles with them. I also pickled some asparagus.

I’ve seen so many different pickled recipes that I’m beginning to wonder what DOESN’T get pickled. Somebody stop me before I pickle watermelon rinds, because that little “ping” sound of the lids sealing is kind of addicting.