I'm jammin'

i'm jammin' i'm jamming i'm jamming i'm jamming, i wanna jam it wit you. i'm jammin' i'm jamming i'm jamming i'm jamming, i hope you like jammin' too.

but if you've got any sense, you will not like jammin'. sorry, that's just plain old jamming, with the "g". i spent a whole afternoon jamming. as in, making jam. you see, we have all these lovely concord grapes growing on our garage, and every day i looked at them admiringly, smitten with those deep purple spheres that seemed almost fake in their perfection. it seemed a shame to just let them all freeze or rot as winter approached. i should do something with them, i thought to myself. i should be all martha stewarty and make homemade grape jam! yes, what a fabulous idea.

i googled how to make it, and it seemed pretty straightforward. all of the various sites i looked at mentioned that it takes a bit of patience to peel the grapes, but they all kind of breezed by that point. i guess if they didn't, no one in their right mind would make the jam. so let me be clear: peeling the grapes takes a very, very long time. it's easy but mind-numbingly tedious. your fingers will wrinkle and stain. your eyeballs will glaze over. your bowl of peeled grapes will very slowly start to fill.... but the bucket of unpeeled grapes still to go will never seem to dwindle. you will hate the grapes. you will hate martha stewart. you will hate the websites for not warning you that jam making is for crazies.

anyhoo, without further ado, here is the play by play of my jam making adventure.

requirements for jam:
3 lbs concord grapes
3 cups sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice
immeasurable amounts of patience
glass(es) of wine or other booze to keep you from going bonkers

step 1: ah... beautiful grapes on the vine spark jam-making inspiration

 

 

step 2: collect big pile of gorgeous grapes. continue to admire them and marvel at your wonderful idea.

 

 

step 3: pluck grapes from the stems. they look like a bucket of blueberries. start to nervously realize that this is a lot of grapes

 

 

step 4: squeeze the end of the grape, allowing the inside to plop right out of its skin.

 

 

step 5: peel. peel. peel peelpeelpeelpeel approximately 1200 grapes for approximately 2 hours. stare at pile of grapes. detest grapes. kick yourself over stupid jam-making idea.

 

 

step 6: put all the skins in a food processer and puree with 1 cup of sugar until smooth.

 

step 7: regroup. admire that incredible colour. go have a glass of wine or something.

 

step 8: back to work. put the grapes, purple skin puree, the rest of the sugar, and the lemon juice into a pot.

 

 

step 9: bring to a boil. then turn down heat and let simmer to thicken. stir occasionally.

 

 

step 10: more tedium as you strain out the seeds, mashing the mixture patiently to get out all the sticky purple goodness.

 

 

step 11: i didn't think it was thick enough so i put it back on the stove for a bit. oooh, looks so perdy. my love of the grapes is renewed.

 

 

 

step 12: pour into jars. woohoo, we're done!!!

 

 

step 13: enjoy the unbelievably delicious results. YUM!! 

 

 

 

i was actually crazy enough to do this whole thing twice. the second time around i set up my peeling station so i could sit at a table within view of the tv. much better than standing at the kitchen counter, staring out the window, the occasional squirrel running along the fence my only entertainment.

 

and i have to say, the jam is amazing. thick, rich, and sweet. my mom, brother, and sister have all raved about it. and clearly, if i put myself through this a second time, it goes to show that i think the product is worth the effort :)



Oh goodie, another phobia

maybe phobia isn't quite the right word. i mean, i'm not afraid of them, like i am of moths. but i think that's only because these are stationary. i definitely have an irrational and hyperbolic disgust of them, which leads to extremely ludicrous overreactions.

I've discovered that i am revolted by toadstools.

seriously, i don't know how i'm going to get through this blog, because just the thought of them - the mere writing of the word - sends shudders down my spine. we have some growing around a tree on the boulevard (oh god oh god, they're so gross), and now they've even spread so that a few are in our yard (barf barf barf). the clumps around the base of the tree are really big, like the size of cats and loaves of bread (blech, gag), then about half a dozen smaller clusters have popped up along the boulevard and a blob or two on our lawn (i have to stop, i'm going to be sick).


i'm back. feeling queasy, but i shall persevere.

i can't think of anything more nauseating than those mushrooms. repulsive fungal growths infesting our grass. they make my skin crawl. i almost couldn't walk up my front sidewalk because they were only a few feet away. oh so gross so gross so gross! squishy, lumpy, dense, moist, pop-up-overnight, cankerous blight infecting my lawn!!



blair digging out the vile toadstools. I took a photo of him
 while peeking through the blinds in the upstairs window.
this is as close as i could get, and even then i was trembling

ok, i must stop. retching and having mini-convulsions at the thought of them. i made blair go outside and dig them all up to get rid of them. but he's not allowed to talk about it because i start freaking out when they are mentioned and may break into tears. now i must go have a hot shower and scrub the thoughts of them away.

snow and stupid

ugh. today is not exactly off to an auspicious start. for one, it's snowing. AGAIN. it's april 21st, and it's snowing. come one! am i ever going to get a chance to enjoy my new backyard? afternoon drinks on our sunny deck, evenings sitting around the firepit... sigh... not to be realized anytime soon.

this morning i got up around 830, shuffled downstairs in my housecoat and slippers, and put on a pot of coffee. i plunked myself down at the table to go through the newspaper and do the crossword. my usual routine. as i was drowsily flipping pages, i heard i tinkling noise. huh. i wonder what that is, i thought, continuing to flip. tinkle tinkle drip drip. is the tap on? finally i come out of my sleepy fog enough to consider that something may not be right in the kitchen. sure enough, the coffee maker is pouring coffee straight down onto the element, cascading over the counter and onto the floor. the pot sits empty off to the side. and oh, fantastic, the drawer beneath was slightly ajar so a cups worth of coffee has also poured in all over the cutlery. oy.

yup, today definitely has the makings of a day when i should just laze on the couch, avoid the miserable weather, and not undertake any complicated tasks (like coffee-making!). but i'm off to a birthday brunch at my dad's. gotta go brush the car off. grumble grumble.

for years afflicted; symptoms worsening

my birthday is in less than a week. then i will officially be too old to get a working holiday visa for ireland, france, and a bunch of other places. not that i was planning on uprooting and living abroad for any extended period of time. but now that i realize that option is forever being taken away, it makes me want it! blah blah, the whole wanting what we can't have thing. i'm sure if i could go at any time in my life, i wouldn't be one bit fussed about it. but now my mind if racing - i've only got a few days to apply for that visa or i'll never get to live in france! ARGH!

i'm never going to live in france. accept it, it'll be fine.

i know why they call it the "travel bug". it really is like a disease. so i don't know why people refer to it all cutesy like. "oh, she's got the travel bug, time for a little va-cay!" Ok, thankfully no one has used the annoying and in no way cutesy term va-cay to me. but the travel bug should not be taken lightly! once you've been bitten, you have it for life. and as far as i'm aware, there is no known cure. i contracted it early on, as a young teenager. it's highly addictive, so my condition only worsens over time. i mollify the bug with holidays whenever i can, hoping that a long weekend in vegas will placate it and allow for some restfulness and contentment at home. but the periods of respite grow shorter before withdrawal symptoms set in and i'm in need of a travel fix. i look back at last year - a couple of visits to vancouver, toronto, vegas, 2 weeks in costa rica, not to mention over 3 weeks in thailand - and i'm still jonesing for more!

withdrawal is difficult. i can't focus on anything else except where i'm gonna score my next hit. i hoard money for my next escape. i look at the lonely planet books on my shelf and get lost in flashbacks. i relentlessly explore google earth, zooming in to ogle the details of victoria falls or sigh at the beauty of a remote pacific atoll.

 

 

and like any addiction, i keep pushing for a greater high: something to top the last. come on, i need a fix. whatcha got, whatcha got? you know a little week in mexico ain't gonna do it for me, man! europe? that's for noobs! nah man, nah, i need something with a little more oomph, a little more wow-you're-going-where-awesome, ya know? africa is still my holy grail - anywhere from kenya, tanzania, zambia, botswana, nimibia.... or all of the above! but i'm open to other suggestions.

i'll take what i can get and keep chasing for more. after all, i'm a travel junkie.

revenge is a dish best served... with condiments?

FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!! FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

ok, i apologize for the language, but i had to get that out. you know when there's a situation that you've imagined in your head a thousand times, and you've played and replayed exactly what'd you say and what you'd do? you say to yourself and others "if i ever see that guy again i'll -- " and then explain in detail your well plotted revenge, if only given the chance! unfortunately, we don't always get that chance, and usually when we do, it does not have the courtesy to stick to our plan.

three years ago my family went to israel for a month. my brother's best friend agreed to watch the house for us. perhaps some of you remember this story from when i originally told it, so this is just the briefest of recaps. we got back and i noticed some things were missing. over the next few days we realized that it wasn't just one thing that perhaps had been misplaced, many things were gone. we'd been robbed. we confronted him. he said that he'd had some people over, he'd look into it. he said he would accept responsibility. a couple of days later he was gone. fled the city! literally, the son of a bitch moved to Halifax. when we tallied up what he'd stolen, it was somewhere between 2-3 thousand dollars. from me personally, close to $1000. i HATE him.

my fantasy revenge meeting wasn't actually all that fleshed out. it mostly involved a good solid left hook to the jaw, or a swift kick to the sternum that knocked him to the ground. then maybe i'd spit on him. it was a very satisfying and cathartic resolution in this fantasy.

however, there is a very distinct difference between having the daydream, and getting the chance to act out the daydream. i got my chance, unexpectedly, tonight. i was out enjoying dinner with my sister and family, when half way through my taco salad, awareness of his presence cast a dark shadow over the evening. i sat there fuming. i couldn't just walk out of there, i had to do something. but this was my local hangout, i couldn't do anything crazy that would get me banned or anything. and now that i was facing the situation, i had to accept that violence was not an option.

when we got up to leave, i walked over to his table. he acted all surprised. "i'm going to cut right to the chase," i said flatly. "you owe me money". the rest is a bit of a blur. he leaned back cockily in his chair, nonchalantly stating "oh do i?" and "prove it". alas, i wasn't as eloquent as i would have liked, tripping clumsily over something about wishing him a miserable life with friends as deceitful and untrustworthy as he is (although not nearly that succinct), and repeating that he can deny it all he wants but he knows he stole from us. "yeah, well you can't prove anything". and he was right. we can't. it was three years ago. he got away with it and he knew it. he smirked at me smugly. i stood and stared daggers, unable to throw the deisred punch.

So i threw his salsa in his face instead.

it was somewhat satisfying, and bordered on cathartic. i aplogized to the waitress but said she should know that that customer was a no good piece of shit theif that stole from us. my sister and her husband nodded in support. i wish i'd made that last announcement to the whole bar, but what can you do; these scenarios never go as planned.

and with that, we left.

losing my mind, one note at a time

oh my god, why won't the radio station play any other songs? please, i beg you, mix it up a bit! i've heard these songs every day for longer than i can take! there's no need for any sort of deejay or host, because i swear they just have the same loop playing every single day. i can practically set my watch to it. start the day with a little adele "rollin in the deep", and then refresh our memory of it just after noon. lady gaga's "edge of glory" is playing, must be about 10 o'clock. or 230, when it gets played again. oh, 3pm, time to put on jason mraz's "i'm yours", thank you for driving me crazy with a song i once enjoyed. and guaranteed within 10 minutes of that the lazy radio station is going to play "the lazy song". shut up bruno mars, shut up shut up shut up!

i hate that radio. i look over at it and just imagine myself hurling it through the glass walls. but i have nothing against the glass walls. ok, perhaps i will just attack the radio with... hmm, what do i have nearby.... kleenex box - no, that won't work... coffee cup - no, must not harm my trusty coffee cup.... crayons - why are there crayons on my desk??... stapler... yes, i will attack the radio with my stapler. smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash smash!!!!

alright, clearly the radio loop has driven me loopy. it's pushed me over the edge. the edge the edge, the edge the edge, tonight yeah baby, tonight yeah baby, the edge the edge the edge the edge ARGH!!!!!! too much gaga has made me go gaga!

shh... what's that? rollin in the !#@* deep? AGAIN?? time to roll me off to the loony bin.