A Place For My Stuff

The Awesome Boyfriend and I have taken to watching "American Pickers" on The History Channel. It's pretty entertaining as we, the viewing audience, are introduced to folks and neighborhoods and sheds and buildings as the two main hosts wade through piles and piles of "stuff" looking for things they can sell or restore or add to THEIR collections.

There are various shows like this - "Pawn Stars" springs to mind, as does "Antique Road Show" - but this one is different in that we see the owners of said "stuff" in their own environment. Sometimes it's a very neat, very orderly collection (which the hosts don't tend to enjoy much because the chances for buying things from a neat collection tends to be slim) but more often than not, it's the back building with the door that doesn't quite really open and the lock that rusted off during that snowstorm in '73 and, when the camera is finally able to get through, it looks like what it is ... a bunch of crap that was maybe at one time a treasured collection that has since gone neglected.

Which, in a strange route of thinking, lead me to think of this space. I use this space for a number of things but, first and foremost, it's entertainment for me. That's why there are music videos and pictures of cats and memories of cars and stories of dogs and descriptions of food and random news stories ... and that's just what I've hit the "Publish Post" button on. In the "Drafts" area, I have dribs and drabs, rants and ravings, stories half-written and memories semi-described ... all sitting waiting to be discarded or finished.

And, like those folks we meet in "American Pickers", I'm faced with the question of "why don't you finish this or discard it now?" Sometimes it's in draft stage because the topic isn't fully-formed in my head, sometimes the stuff I've written isn't clear enough as I re-read it to make much sense, sometimes the appropriate moment has passed, and a lot of times I just wanted to write it out so that I didn't have to think on it anymore. (That last one tends to be mostly of the "rant" category.)

I think that a lot of the population does something like this, either with ideas or memories or lessons learned or actual, physical things. We hold onto those pieces ... to our "stuff" ... because we're not done with our collection yet, in one way or another. And, at some point, there will be a time, a place, a person, or an event that lets us know we need to decide if we're keeping it or letting it go.

Watch & tell me ya' don't "awww"

Just saw this ad while watching the football and I really liked it. I like the message, I like the graphics, and I liked how the story unfolds.

Fabulousness Made Deliciously

While I typically make jam alone, in July, and in a few basic flavors, it's safe to say that this has - in so many wonderful, tragic, stretching, learning, loving ways - NOT been a typical year. So it makes sense that I made jam in August, with The Awesome Boyfriend, in 12 mostly new and vastly different flavors.

I had no intentions of making jam this year. For one thing, I didn't need another distraction to take away from the things I really SHOULD be doing. Also, it's never clean or neat. And ... finally ... it's ALWAAAAYS expensive. It's true ... next time you're in a grocery store and you find yourself rolling your eyes at the price tag associated with that "high-end" jam concoction, stop and consider: the cost of sugar, the cost - and time limitations - of large quantities of good fruit, the cost of containers, and my word the cost of the TIME it takes to go from "nice strawberries ... we should do something with them" to "good heavens, would you just look at the deep red color inside that jar of tastiness?" Honestly, I don't think anyone who has never made jam ... seriously made jam (as in "more than three batches in a day") ... has a clue as to how expensive a project it can be.

And then there's the distribution aspect of it. After all, now you have a large quantity of awesome flavors that you wanna share with friends and family, right? So you go to the office supply store and buy two ginormous rolls of bubble wrap, packing tape, some boxes (when using the USPS boxes aren't the cheapest option), and you spend time picking out which flavors go to which person, and you wrap and label and tape and ship and pretty soon, you're easily into this fun little hobby for (no fooling here, folks) about $500. Easily.

I've never charged for my jam. Ever. I've accepted just ONE order ... from a co-worker who was making boutique-style baskets for her Christmas list ... and it honestly took all the fun out of it for me. This is a hobby. A fun little tradition. For it to be a money-maker, I'd have to charge about $12 per half-pint and I just can't bring myself to do that.

So what do I ... and now we ... get outta this deal? Well, there's knowing that we can make different flavors next year and bring back the ones we really liked making this year. There's randomly surprising our friends and family with occasional jars of yumminess. There's the satisfaction of shelving 107 jars of jam that was made over a four-day period and using it throughout the coming year in various delicious ways. And there's also the kinda cool feeling of knowing that the jams we made have been shared with - and hopefully enjoyed in -16 homes (thus far) in 9 states throughout the US.

And you know something? That "knowing we done good and shared with other people" part? Well, while making jam may be costly, that last part is just priceless.