Thanks to the glorious Rebecca for linking me to all these old WWII posters that advocate canning. I've got this theory that our house - a late 1940s bungalow - contains a time warp. Especially in the kitchen. In the kitchen, it's like it's 1947 all the time. Not only is it my canning station, but it's also my sewing station.
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And I sit the living room, listening to baseball on the wireless and wearing a dirty bowler hat ... Thrusting my thumbs behind my suspenders, I holler for another double martini.
He's just bitter that the War Effort couldn't use him due to his two left feet.
"Don't need no feet to shoot nazzis!" He says. And drinks. Dear god does he drink.
have you seen this 50s poster? Not necessarily related to canning, or sewing, or pickling, or woodworking, or blogging, but it is related to hyperactivity ;)
ps - the word verification for this comment is 'wyukds'. I think i'm making it my new word for today. Pickled rhubarb? Wyukds!
Bake me a pie, woman!
No, really.
Please?
Pretty please?
ALYSH,STOP TAKIN THE MICK OUT OF THAT WOMAN! JUST CUZ SHE CAN MUTLITASK DUSNT MEAN SHE'S A PUSHOVER
B.T.W.. IM 10 YEARS OLD
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