I got it in my head that, if I could make cherry bounce, why not do something similar with grapes? A quick spin around the internets and my cookbook shelf didn’t yield much information. Or rather, there was a lot of information, but it was all over the place and recipes varied wildly.

Finally, I narrowed it down to one of two methods:

a) make a grape puree, add sugar and spices (cinnamon? allspice? cloves?), and then top with vodka and, after several months, strain.

b) put grapes in jars, top with 100 proof vodka, let sit for 3 months, strain and add sugar.

And then I found a Hank Shaw recipe for elderberry liqueur and left a comment asking for advice. Hank’s response: don’t do the grape puree version because it may cloud the drink — go with Plan B, aka his method for making elderberry liqueur.

But then just today I found other delicious-looking methods that call for mashing the grapes (like this one) and now I’m waffling again. I love eating the cherries from the cherry bounce — wouldn’t a drunken grape puree be yummy over ice cream? 

I could try both methods, and maybe I will, but then it occurred to me: maybe some of you have experience with this? We have a TON of grapes this year and there’s a giant bottle of 100 Proof Vodka sitting in the back hall. So tell me, please: WHAT SHOULD I DO.

P.S. I wrote this yesterday and then, last night, I went ahead and tried the Plan B option. I still want to make another version, though— I’ve got some vodka left, and there are still loads of grapes dangling from the vine…

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (9.9.19), home again, outside eating, calf wrangling, blasted cake, swoony supper.

Last week, my older son texted, I need relationship counseling. My office is open, I wrote back.

For nearly two hours, he perched on my dresser, his heels hooked on the hanging-open bottom drawer, while we hashed out his relationship with his girlfriend, my relationship with my husband, core values, personality differences, decision-making methods, life goals, etc, etc. The two of them had a good thing going, we both agreed. Also, it’s okay to take things slow, I said. 

The next night they came out for supper and announced they were getting married.

Um, WHAT?!?!

I actually wasn’t surprised — from the very beginning, our entire family has thought (and hoped) this was where the relationship was heading — but I was shocked. My son’s getting married. Our family is gaining a new sister/daughter/WIFE. What the what?!?! 

Gradually, the news is settling. I’m beginning to wrap my head around this seismic change. Our family now includes another person. My son’s loyalties are shifting . . . and so are mine: for all these years, I’ve had his back; now I have their back. This switch is so strange— and terribly scary: vulnerability, risk, and hope are inextricably intertwined— but it’s also liberating. I’m free to love her now.

My husband and I have been spending a lot of time processing, thinking back to our few whirlwind months of long-distance dating and our seven-week engagement when I was twenty. We were so young, we marvel, shaking our heads. That two people can decide to do life together — it’s audacious, really.

Aren’t they radiant?

This same time, years previous: a hernia, hip-hip!, the big finale, the proper procedure for toweling off after a shower, the quotidian (9.7.15), regretful wishing, how to clean a room, Saturday, the big night.

Quotidian: daily, usual or customary;
everyday; ordinary; commonplace

“STOP TAKING PHOTOS AND OPEN THE DOOR.”

New thing I learned: cheddaring is a verb.

Dessert sampler to go.

Also: rice, grilled chicken, blackberry cobbler, and ice cream.

Last week in the bakery: and now I’m sick of chocolate pie.

August this year: hazy, hot, and horribly humid.

Feed me?

And then the rains came.

Twenty-five years.

Sunday afternoon: my view.

This same time, years previous: made it, Southern sweet tea, five-dollar curtido, blueberry muffins, in my kitchen, in my kitchen: 5:25 p.m., the cousins came, the quotidian (9.2.13), a laundry list.