I asked myself if I was going crazy as I entered the building laden with apples. I set down one plastic grocery bag and took off my dark blue back pack, left still from college. In it, I had two more bags of small apples. What had I gotten myself into?
Actually, the warning signs of delirium had begun almost half mile earlier when I had heard the metal on my bike rattle, the speed of the beat fluctuating with my own rate of motion. Did I really want to deal with all those apples?
When I was finally able to catch my breath and take off the heavy back pack, I felt a little tipsy; I hadn’t had any alcohol, but the poundage of apples that I bore was none to small. The funny feeling I had made me wonder if I had indeed exceeded my “legal limit” (of apples) for driving (a bike).
This all came about because I had been in contact with an acquaintance of mine (who also helped with Religious Ed. at St. Michael’s Church). She had informed me, as a side note, that “the apples are ready.” She had hoped to pick apples again with me near her home, but wasn’t able to due to the imminent delivery of her new baby.
Having heard the news about the apples, I checked here with Sr. Rebecca, our Administrator, if I should really pursue this. She seemed in favor of it, so I called the facility to whom the apples belonged; I explained what I had heard and that we had picked the apples there before because no one else had wanted them. I was informed that I was again free to help myself this year.
After giving our receptionist her lunch break, and having dinner myself, the partying began. Although I advertised an “apple cutting party,” I didn’t have a huge turnout of helpers for the task of transforming the little things. Some did help however, and a few hours later, I had several gallons of tasty apple sauce.
I guess one lesson can be learned: if you stick to a job, even though it can be hard work and take time, you can enjoy the results. Another slogan might be applicable here as well; that is: “No rest for the wicked!” This same afternoon, someone donated two flats of tomatoes. After evening prayer, I ended up attacking these 76 tomatoes to preserve for the winter. Thankfully, Sr. Elaine came around, took pity on me, and helped a lot with getting them processed.