Dude.
We TOTALLY went berry picking.
Because, frankly, I’m like that sometimes. Sometimes, I stop being exausted and lazy and the shunner of all things Minnesotan and fucking step up to that Martha Stewart plate and I knock one out of the park. Or I grounder to first, but what I’m saying is I am occasionally MOVED BY THE SPIRIT and I make some goddamned jam.
So…. here’s the picking:
And probably I shouldn’t mention that the girlie that took us out to our “place of pickin'” asked me several questions like:
“Um, does he, like, GO to Duke?”
and I was all…
“Um, no. He’s like totally going to be a Junior in high school.”
and she was all…
“OMG! What school does he go to?”
and I was all…
“He totally went to Roseville last year, but now he’s moved to Hell. I mean, Iowa. And he’ll be really, REALLY famous there.”
and she was all…
“Bummer.”
and I was all, “Yeah.”
We also ATE some berries.
and by “we”.. I guess we mean “The Females Of the Family”…
and then a bug totally ate ME and I was really upset about it….
and then The Baby was all..
“I’ll kick your POOPIE PANTS if you bite my Mommy!”
and then The Teen, who thus far had been able to ignore all the berries patches and the ridiculous picking… and eating.. and picking… finally got tired of texting people and actually started plucking berries.
and in the end… we got quite a few even though we picked on THE LAST DAY OF BERRY PICKING POSSIBLE because, you know… I’m all about planning ahead.
And when faced with a giant trough of strawberries, I did what nobody anyone would do.
But it was SO HOT… and I was close to passing out in a strawberry field, which is AWKWARD… so Kory asked me to at least come up for air.
And The Baby was all…
“Gawd. Get a GRIP.”
And so I went home and we made jam.
The Baby’s new word is “happy”. And she says it when she thinks something is rockin’.
And she says it like this… ” HA…..PEEEEEEE!”
So, out of the strawberries and raspberries we picked at the farm, along with the ferosh red currants from my bush in the front yard, we made Happy Jam.
FEROSH RED CURRANTS:
Then, at the request of my husband, we made a second batch that is exactly the same except we added a big, fat, orange Habanero pepper to it. And it made the made amazing jam that is sweet and layered and has no bite at all until you swallow it and then it’s as if the sun came out and shined beautific berryicious rays of delicate warmth on your tongue. Yes, SERIOUSLY.
We call that one Ninja Jam.
We call it that because in an effort to get The Teen to buy in to the whole berry picking thing, I told him that basically, it’s just picking berries except there are ninjas that patrole the rows and they randomly attack people. So, probably, The Baby and I would have to stand on the sidelines and cheer him and Kory on while they picked/defended themselves using mixed martial arts techniques.
And for like 7 seconds, he almost bought it because he TOTALLY WANTED IT TO BE TRUE.
And for some of our group, it was more like, “Holy kitties! This stuff randomly comes from the ground?!”
