Domestic Husband

We have a HUGE grapevine in our backyard. My kids (all three) eat them constantly. I eat a few grapes every day, admire their beauty, watch my kids eat them nonstop (which leads to seedy diapers...), etc. etc. Kjell, whose domestic abilities exceed mine in many ways, has an innate desire to store food. (Hmmm...wonder where he got that from? My mother-in-law Ruby can feed the state of Oregon if there is ever a natural disaster. Her mother, Grandma Nordmark, has a pantry chock-full of more canned goods than I thought possible. She shares liberally and has kept us well supplied for years with everything from rhubarb to apricot jam. All from her garden, natch). Anyway, canning is practically the state pastime in Utah. My flush-faced friends who spend hours and hours in the kitchen canning their home-grown fruits and veggies get my full admiration if not my desire to join in. For all of you Utes, we East Coasters (well, my family at least) buy our canned goods at the grocery store (sometimes at the overpriced Farmer's Market), including all juices, jams, jellies, salsas, sauces, fruits, veggies, and anything else that can be preserved in tin or glass. But, this does not compare to the tastiness borne of the experienced hands of my domestic husband and friends (grape juice, grape jelly, and blackberry and apple pies made from hand-picked fruit shown in pics). I'm glad one of us takes the time to preserve. Me? I love you Welch's.