A Bit Blue

I told FringeMan I should go work on a farm for the summer picking season, because there’s something all-consuming about trying to capture every last bit of ripe fruit before the ants, flies, and birds get them.  If you have a compulsive personality, become a picker of anything growing in mass quantity.  You’ll experience happy fulfillment at the end of each day.  Trust me.

Anyway, FringeMan thinks I’m too slow to be hired by anyone.  He’s never heard that slow and steady wins the race.

Pretend it's a good picture.

I must admit that I ate three berries for every one I picked.  Perhaps the antioxidants went directly to my brain or maybe my hormones were out of balance this week, because I morphed into Betty Crocker.  Sadly my creations won’t be making me millions, but I guarantee they’ll add pounds to my bottom.

This sudden surge of domestication had me wondering, and I momentarily stopped, looking from a double sink piled high with purple stained dishes to a countertop no longer visible.  In that late day moment, I feared my sanity forever stolen by a small, plump berry.

In reality I am no pioneer.  A battle wages in my brain with the sane side telling me that grocery stores sell more jars of jam than I can make in the nine lives I do not posses, but the other side of brain sees the five gallon pail of fresh berries and concocts projects that could transport me to the nineteenth century.

Intervention struggles for release on the tip of my tongue.

It’s the morning after and as I plod down the stairs, I am greeted by a mess that the cleanup crew in the Gulf would shake their head over.

I had no choice but to make blueberry smoothies, with skim milk of course.  Somebody help me before I drown in my kitchen sink.  At the end of my life, I don’t want to learn that I’ve spent ten years, and not a moment less, doing dishes!

It’s not that I lack a great respect and admiration for the likes of Betty Crocker, Martha Stewart, and June Cleaver, but I don’t wear an apron.  I don’t even have a clean oven!

Thankfully the rest of the berries are sleeping happily in my freezer and waiting for the next time my hormones go haywire.  Right now I’m sitting scared to death of apple picking season.

I’m not even bored.  Really.  Imagine if I were?

I don’t want to make you feel less than June Cleaver with this post.  The truth is my jam is a bit runny, the pie (made with refrigerated crust) must scooped with a spoon, and the smoothies…well, those I can’t complain about.  I am getting better than my first pie.  You can read my early cooking confessions HERE.

Did I mention that it’s been 90 degrees in my kitchen and there’s no AC?  Yes, come help me please.  Drag me out of the house!!!

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  1. says

    Maybe the heat is what got to you! I am impressed, I have always wanted to make jam but never got it together enough to do it. I am, however, going to try bread and butter pickles this weekend, so we will see how it goes!
    Blueberries are the best though, I love them, I wouldn’t be able to let any go to waste either….

  2. says

    I would like to try the pie, please.
    I am also feeling jam-ish. I have never made it before, but my aunt had some SCRUMTRULESCENT strawberry that got me thinking. My Girls and I are fans of the raspberry. Maybe we will give it a whirl. Someday!

  3. says

    I’m glad you put the rest of the blueberries in the freezer! When our inner Martha comes out, she’s so compulsive it’s hard to keep her from taking over.

    Finish out your frantic round of Kitchen Kreativity by grabbing the ice cream that’s next to the blueberries in the freezer, help everyone to a heaping bowlful and announce that it’s too hot to cook so this is dinner.

    This works especially well if you have chocolate syrup.

  4. says

    Girlfriend! You made pie, jelly, and smoothies!?
    Let’s stop whining and start eating!
    I’ll bring some cleaning supplies & help with the dishes; you just have my smoothie waiting on me!

  5. says

    I’m stuck on 90 degrees in the kitchen with no air conditioning and you’re cooking. I wouldn’t be able to cook, because I’d be too busy whining and dousing myself in cold water. Betty Crocker’s got nothing on you, Girl!

  6. says

    Okay. You can come live in my air-conditioned place IF I can inhabit your kitchen, fully stocked with all those fresh berries.

    Buy the ticket to Chicago, then Amtrak it down to Normal!
    (I hate AC)
    Have a berry nice weekend!

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