Thursday, August 12, 2004

 

In a Jam


Well, I'm not, really, but several pounds of plums that my mother gave me earlier tonight are now reposing peacefully in mason jars, having been made into my first batch ever of jam.

Aren't they purdy?



I think the jam even set! Of course, as happens far too often en Cuisine du Lapin, this jam-making venture was not without ... shall we say ... incident?

Whenever trying a new project, one should likely read the instructions on how to do it instead of leaping in with both paws, no? Anyhow, I didn't measure the fruit before I prepared it and had to make two batches of jam. This is all fine and dandy, as I'm sure my friends will just weep at being forced to take a jar or two off my hands.

I also only read half of the instructions and tossed the package of Certo, made by our friends over at Kraft, into the first batch of boiling fruit and sugar syrup before taking it off the heat, so I'm hoping that won't make a big difference. I did it right the second time, but was 1/2 cup of fruit short of the amount they said to use, so I'm hoping it'll turn out fine. It should -- this isn't exactly rocket science.

Of course, having planned on only making one batch of jam, I bought only one box of jars, and so had to put the rest of the jam into a bowl.



I'm thinking this won't be a big problem. I'll cover it in plastic wrap, put it in the fridge, and Her Surreal Highness and my husband, The Honey Princess, can make their sammidges with jam from a bowl. What the hell, worse things happen at sea.

I must say I sort of like the combination of the deep red jam and the cobalt blue glass bowl.



My kitchen is an utter disaster; sticky and covered in jam-encrusted thingies. I also seem to have rather a lot of jam on my right boob. Yes, you may lick it off.

All in all I'd write this up as a successful experiment. I'll just have to wait and see if anyone will eat the jam before passing final judgement on it.

Speaking of boobs, and you knew I would again eventually, I went out tonight to buy a DVD player for my parents for their anniversary and decided to get myself a new bra while I was in the department store. What the fuck is it with people who think that anyone over a 32B is allergic to lace? Is there some news article which I have never seen, entitled "Fatgirl Touches Lace, Explodes", so now they're keeping it from us, "for our own good"? I mean, dude.

I searched the entire "lingerie" department, and I use that term loosely, and managed to find exactly ONE bra in my size. Well, not really my size but close enough. I mean ... ONE. There were others, of course, off in the "Plus Sizes" area but those are all nasty and coy, as if I'm supposed to be ashamed of wearing a large size. No matter how much lace is on those creations, they look grandmotherly, or at least maternal, and even though I'm a mother and am old enough to be a grandmother had I had children back when all of my friends were doing so, I have no interest in garments made 'for the mature figure.'

Fuck it. I want a leopard-patterned bra with lots of lace that sends the message 'I have great big boobs. They're nice. If you buy me dinner I'll lend you a spelunking helmet and let you lose yourself in between them for an hour or two.'

And then my husband will come and pull off your arms and legs, but hell, it's a small price to pay.

Comments:
I covet that bowl.
 
Bowl covetor. Come visit again and I'll let you use it. But you can't keep it -- it was a weeding present the first time I got married. Hubby didn't work out so well but the dishware has endurance indeedie.
 
That's a whoooooole lotta jam.

and the jars are spiffy, I have candles in jars jest like zat. zey are beautimous. she knits, she makes jam, she gives anonymous folks a helping hand, what else can you do? can you juggle?
 
I'm working on developing the skill needed to make pasties twirl in opposite directions ...
 
Ok, I have some money to burn, IF it involves spluenking helmets AND twirling pasties. You know what they say about nickels.... lick em and stick em! Wait... no I'm sorry. It still can't beat my lustful infatuation with blonde-haired male elves.... after all, he is my baby daddy!
 
The brother intervenes, yet again! Yes, my sister does have nice bazooms (forgive me for the choice of words..bountiful pontoons was the other option..now you know we're related). I hope I at least get a jar of jam? I can provide a case of jam jars from my ill-fated attempt at canning. I bought the jars, got ready for the event, and lost interest..just ended up eating all of the fruit before I got the pot out.
 
Oh great, now people are going to think I'm even more kink than I am. Which is difficult to imagine.

You, my dear, get TWO pots of jam. That is, if I ever stop working long enough to get them over to you.
 
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