I'm willing to lay large cash bets that NO ONE has eaten as much raspberry jam in the last week as I have. We're talking sugar-rush-one-pint-in-a-day-and-a-half and I'm barely holding myself back from going in for more. What's a gal to do with ten toasty pints of fresh raspberry jam, the first canning foray of the year? Eat up! Call for a second baguette, another scoop of chévre, a wee smear of butter (ok, yeah, not so wee...)
Also, as a side note, what does it say about my jammy-greed level that ten pints might not be enough for me, let alone enough for sharing with neighbors and house guests? I best pick up another flat of berries next week... Especially because I've been talking trades of homemade pickles and white grape jelly (Ladies, you know who you are)!
ALSO, I had a rather embarrassing revelation concerning the fact that I, the textile hoarder, the sewing addict, the queen of "oops, did I just make that," do not own a single working kitchen apron. When the jam is a popin' I've got to duck and dodge the sticky missiles of goo and that is a sight to behold (let me tell you!). Something really must be done to remedy THAT situation...
In other news:
The sun is shining and puffy little white clouds are breezing by my windows
The kitty boys are loafing about, well supported in my personal pillow collection
I'm sitting rather unlady-like (crossed legged in a skirt, tut tut tut)
I'm thinking about this little painting I began just yesterday (the largest in my series of little guys at 8" square)
And OH LA LA! It's Bastille Day which means I need to pour myself a glass of rosé in honor!
Vive La France!
Vive La Rosé!
Vive La Jam!