Strawberry Blues

We went strawberry picking. Again. It's become a strange compulsion for us. The berries are so plump and red, just bursting with juice that I feel this NEED to pick them. Those of you who subscribe to Freudian psychobabble please remain quiet. Hubby is deployed, is it any real surprise that I am fascinated with all things edible?

Yikes. Quick change of subject needed.

Ok, so we made jam. 58 jars worth. When I was politely asked to stay out of Wal-Mart's canning isle I moved onto pies, shortbread, muffins, and even came up with a strawberry-banana bread recipe my kids flipped over. Cheesecake. Check. So much baked goods stuffed into my freezer and given away that friends see me coming and bolt the doors. I swear I heard a rumor that I was having a fling with the Pillsbury dough-boy or how else could I afford the flour?

In short we must stay far, far away from the berry patch. OCD and perfect strawberry weather does not mix, I suppose.

On the other hand I haven't made strawberry margaritas yet. KIDS! Put on the sunscreen we're going pickin'!