Stop the Presses!

Or at least the strainers.  I made (with the assistance of my wonderful hubby) a major discovery this week. I'll let you in on it but first I need to do a bit of backgrounding.  You already know that I put up lots of tomatoes when I can and that I have a particular passion for sauce and ketchup.  This passion requires extensive use of a tomato strainer.  For years and years I have used my trusty old Victorio strainer. It removes all the skins and seeds and leaves you with just pulp and juice. I bought it new over twenty years ago, and other than loosing some of its enamel, it's still in great shape.

Life is a Bowl of Cherries

There are reasons why I am posting less frequently this summer than I sometimes do, the largest of which is my lovely tomato patch.  Each harvest is measured in bushels, and then the process begins.  After picking for an hour or so the tomatoes need to be washed and sorted.  Which ones are so green they won't be usable for several days, which can be used in two to three days, which should be cut up right away?  Separate out the good slicers and the cherries as well. (The cherries sit on our coffee table like a big bowl of candy!) Once the sort cycle is complete there are a few hours of cutting, then there is the cooking.

Each One Teach One

So.  Since we last talked you have all taken up some type of hobby and deciphered its hieroglyphics, right?  Now the next step is to pass it on to someone else.  The principle of "each one teach one" is commonly used in re-entry and rehab programs.  Through this method, clients who have made serious progress in getting their lives together are in charge of helping new clients get a start on a new life.  It works really well and some of the most successful programs in world (like Delancey Street in San Francisco) use the principle as a cornerstone of their organization.  Not only do people really respond to being taught new ways in a one on one situation, but also the teacher learns the subject they are teaching much more deeply.

This morning, between bouts  of canning tomato sauce, I did what I do every Saturday. I drove into town and spent some time at one of our local taquerias.  I tutor the daughter of the owners, and this summer I told her I wouldn't stop coming just because school was out.