If the shoe fits

One of my most unfortunate traits is that I think I can solve the world's problems on the drive from Glenburn to Orono, or Bangor to Veazie.  Complicated issues might require something longer, like the the drive to camp in Dover, but you get the idea.  So please, bear with me on this one.

During the financial collapse of 2006 I became acutely aware of all the storage facilities that had popped up on the rural American landscape.  The normally pastoral drive down Forest Ave. between Glenburn and Orono was interrupted by a hulking steel U Store It type facility.  I am not going to lie, these squat, utilitarian buildings offend my aesthetic as well as my philosophy, and their proliferation is more than I can stand.  You can hardly drive for more than 10 minutes without passing one on the roadside.  Their signs boast more amenities that any apartment I have ever lived in: climate controlled, 24 hour video survaillance, keyless entry, drive-in access.  The list goes on I assure you.

It began to occur to me that perhaps part of the reason we are where we are, is our obsession with stuff: its aquisation as well as its maintenance.  As a nation, we are crippled by credit card debt, mortgage debt, educational debt, business debt.  Sadly, our ever inflating McMasions can't hold all that we have aquired even though we keep increasing square footage.

So when we were nominated for the Family Business Award and I needed something swanky to wear to the reception, I was forced to face my demon: the racks, shelves and boxes of clothing, shoes, and accessories stored in my parents' garage.  Sure my treasures of years gone by are stored in a garage built to look like a 100 year old red barn, but the truth is still the truth: This is stuff I haven't touched in 2 years.

We put it in my parents' garage 2 years ago, just for a couple months while we renovated the store and our living space above it.  And I left it up there because I was pregnant with Grant and the clothes didn't fit.  Then I waited because, well, after Grant was born, they still don't fit.  They may never fit.  And even if they do, they might be vintage by the time I get back into them.  This is not an article about my ever changing form though.  This is an article about my shoes.

I quickly and rightly rebuffed my mother's suggestion that I shop the racks up there for something to wear.  However, once I had my new outfit, I was happy to have an excuse to dig out my Pucci print kitten heels to wear.  As I didn't have time to get over there and find them myself, I tasked my ever-willing parents to find them.

When they met me outside the venue to hand over my shoes, my mom eagerly told me that they hadn't found just these shoes, but that she had pulled out ALL my shoes and would BRING THEM OVER.  I'm not gonna lie.  I had a hard time breathing.  I don't have space physically or psychologically for all those shoes.

They don't fit in my living space and they don't fit who this incarnation of Betsy.  Am I really going to wear 3 inch heels with my 27.5lb 11 month old riding Boba on my back?  Probably not.  And yet, I want them there.  I am having a hard time letting go of the money I spent on the shoes and the Betsy I was when I wore them.

In parenting, as in much of life, you can't hold onto what you actually want to hold onto: the joyful moments.  So what you hold onto is the stuff associated with them: shoes, baby clothes, a hair cut, and it ends up being the baggage that holds you down and keeps you from growing.

The upshot of all this is that while I am still working on my new style, lifestyle and fashion style,  I did rescue a few pairs of shoes that still fit the new me...

Strawberries up the Wazoo Take 2: Strawberry Wine

What better fate for the final 2 quarts of strawberries than to become strawberry wine.  Simple and refreshing strawberry wine has a comfy old time-y feel and is as easy to make as strawberry jam. It is so easy in fact that I couldn't think of anything funny to say.  I made it once with honey which makes a strawberry mead, and once with sugar which makes a strawberry wine.

• Place a santizied muslin sock over a sanitized 2 gallon bucket. 
• Wash and hull 2 quarts strawberries into the sock

• Squeeze the sock nto the bucket to get the juices going.

• Add 1/2 tsp pectic enzyme, 2lbs dextrose or honey, 7 pints water, and 1 crushed camden tab

• Place lid on top of bucket and wait 24 hours
• Remove lid and sprinkle yeast
• Let sit for 1 week before removing fruit.
• After 1 month, rack wine to a sanitized 1 gallon clear growler with airlock
• Let sit until clear and bottle.  You can rack it back and forth a few times, or just wait it out.

Yes folks, it is that simple...

Part 1 of Strawberries up the wazoo: Jam-a-lam-a-ding-dong

Long story short, I found myself with 3 flats of strawberries late on Thursday night.  This is the age old story of Maine summer- that intense need to capitalize on the bounty it offers.  Long mostly sunny days, warm alligator-free lakes, bushels of fresh produce coming at you for a week or two at a time.  As soon as you think to yourself, "I need to preserve some of these berries for the dark days ahead," strawberry season is over.

Maybe because it comes first it seems the most frantic to me.  It is, after all, the first in the list and therefore the one that forces you to dig out your canning supplies, or run around town in search of pectin and quilted jelly jars. Their sweet, ripe moment is so ephemeral that by the 4th of July, you are already forcing yourself to remember it.


Freezing is the easiest method, but freezers require energy, and freezers only hold so much, which brings us to canning.  

Anne-Marie, valuable frienployee and author of the Green(ish) Monkey blog, was kind enough to teach a class at the store that demonstrated how to can a beautiful 3-pint vanilla strawberry jam from Food in Jars and how to use the BPA-free Tattler lids we sell.  As a person who makes tasks too big (i.e. canning always requires cases of jars and hours of time) it was a refreshing approach that made me feel like under present circumstances (mother of two and store owner, generally frazzled) that I too could carry some summer with me into the winter.


I wanted to try canning with honey as it is one of our local sugars and we sell it in the store.  I also wanted to try a low sugar recipe so I chose a Pomona Pectin recipe, requiring only 2 quarts of strawberries and 1/2 cup of honey (or sugar), yielding 3 pints.  I used smaller 12oz quilted jelly jars so I would have some to give away.

The Pomona Pectin was simple.  It is a pectin that binds with calcium, requiring you to mix up a calcium water solution first.  The solution can be stored in the refrigerator for a long time and used throughout the canning season. Then the pectin is stirred into the heated jam solution for 1 minute before jarring and processing.

Simply put:

• wash, dry, hull and mash 4 cups of strawberries (about 2 quarts)
• stir in 1/2 c honey or sugar (more if you wish)
• stir in 2 tsp calcium water
• heat the berries until boiling
• remove from heat and stir in 2 tsp pectin
• place back on stove and bring to boil
• Fill and process jars

What made the Pomona Pectin so cool is that is allows for less sugar and the reduced boiling allows the fruit to retain more nutritional value.

Of course Grant woke up twice while I was canning, and Zoe refused to go to bed (11:00 bedtime 4 nights in  a row), but I still made it happen.  Bring on January.  Not really.  You get what I mean.