On Sunday, after "church" (yes, I know, quotation marks, been going for two years and will forever likely put quotation marks around it, SHUT UP) I went to a friend's house to learn how to can.
Oh yes, you heard me right. I am now prepared for armageddon. Between canning and learning all my mad skillz on FarmVille I'm ready for anything.
So I got together with some friends and made a bazillion pounds of salsa.
I got a wonderful lesson in saving every last drop of juice (the look on my friend's face when I wasted about five drops was astonishing), slicing hot peppers with gloves on don't do shit in regards to making your fingers not burn and that when squeezing a tomato that shit is gonna go everywhere.
My OCD nervous tick came out with rage when I begged to stop for a moment to wipe things down. "But we're not done yet, we'll wipe when we're done." Good Lord, these people tortured me.
We ended up "processing" (look at me! canning terminology!) slightly over 100 pounds of tomatoes into salsa and leftover juice.
And my goddamn fingernails are still stained. Pretty, pretty princess is not happy about that.