JC Day, Minus the Heels and Pearls

    Days, days, days... a continuous flow of time that changes very little. Then there is a random day that is so completely sporadic and exceptional I feel like June Cleaver. Everything in place, children clean and happily playing without destructive bents. The deep sigh of housewife satisfaction. Today has been a June Cleaver Day. I can actually say there is an entire floor of my house that's clean from ceiling to floor. Of course, we're not talking about the floor of bedrooms, which is one reason I'm tempted to sleep on the couch. Ah, clean and fresh upholstery.
    Today also began my foray into canning. Hey, something has to be done with the tomatoes in the garden. I know for a fact, that the writer "Attack of the Killer Tomatoes" had a garden full of tomatoes. Our little garden has produced much more than we had even thought feasible. In the last week, I have picked three gallons of the small varieties that we have growing and I've picked twenty of the heirloom tomatoes that have the potential to become killer tomatoes. They are massive, some rivaling the size of Caelan's head. Before they became 'killer' I knew I had to can them. I have been queen of my kitchen today. It's been cleaned, the dishes have been done, and I've even baked cookies. Whoa. And my children are pleasant and strangely calm.
    The canning has gone well. I have succesfully canned four large jars of tomato sauce, like a spaghetti sauce. I am in my June Cleaver element. Then I recall a conversation I had with my Grandma a couple of days ago. This amazing woman, in the midst of telling her my great canning plans, tells me of her canning. I looked proudly at my four jars, in all their red, juicy, yummy goodness and my June Cleaver moment paled in comparison with my Grandma's abilities. In one day, this woman who is an amputee and had knee surgery on her only knee only eight months ago, told me that she had canned twenty jars of peach jelly and ten jars of plum jelly, the fruit from the trees of the homeplace. Burn. Forget June Cleaver. I want to achieve a Grandma day.