Matt and Shannon vs. the tomatoes, part II

I don’t care if he stole a $64,000 diamond ring for his partner. I want Svend to run! (I care slightly more that the RCMP paid him $10,000 for ripping his pants. I hope he gives that to an activist legal aid collective of some description. Anyways, he’s still one hell of an MP.)

* * * * *

Just finished another six hour round of canning: a quarter bushel of yellow tomatoes into another 8 ℓ of Johnny Cash Memorial Salsa. We have another quarter bushel left but we’ve decided to just freeze them. Between the nicking my finger on the cleaver, seeding the jalapeños, handling jars in the boiling water bath, and enough chopping to bring back echos of an old RSI problem, I don’t think I’m capable of doing any more tonight anyways, even if it weren’t so late.

I also showed Shannon Pablo Neruda’s Oda al Tomate, which everyone canning tomatoes should read: pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.

Alright. Bedtime.