Thursday night, I started feeling a little hinky. BP capped the gusher in the Gulf – if it is capped – and though my sense is strong that this thing is not done yet I was limp with relief and fatigue. On Friday morning, I woke up, called out and went back to bed but could not fall asleep. My mind ran in circles. I got out of bed and began tracking down recipes as a form of discipline, to prevent panic, which is only hilarious when you watch someone else do the silent-film-hair-stand, boobitty-boobitty-run-run and reeeeeewwwwww-faint. But you’re right. That is funny.

Sometimes, when you feel like reheated merde, the thing to do is work for someone else’s good and quit thinking about yourself, by which I mean that it’s all about me when I think about you. I stuffed this pile of cat blankets into a space bag, sucked out the extra air – with a vacuum like other adults! – and wrapped all that in brown paper and half a roll of packing tape. This package sat in the little red wagon while I dragged it through the grocery store, where I remembered to buy gelatin packets but forgot cat treats. I shiver, just thinking about it. Then I mailed the package and felt a weight lift.

For the past two seasons, Pete did most of the jarring and I ran around, peeling, scouring and scaring up recipes. Last year, I didn’t even boil water without him except to try a jelly or a jam that failed, as I recall. This year, Pete’s upstairs painting and I’m downstairs paring. Pickled beets are not my favorite nosh but that B Vitamin surge sometimes means the difference between my getting out of bed and my lying flat with cartoon X’s over my eyes. So it turns out jewel-like pickled beets are really easy to prepare, fresh pickling spice is a reason to live and little black cats will supervise your early morning photo shoot.