First off I must apologize for my long period of blogging silence. I have no excuse, except perhaps a lack of an interesting story. However, I have decided that it is up to me as the writer to make whatever story I deem acceptable to share, as interesting to read. At any rate, here we go.
So, the Peej and I have been living in our little apartment for about 2 months now. Crazy I know. It occurred to me that I’m sure some of you would love to know what this place looks like. So, I have consented to share with you some pictures. It is still not completely done, therefore there aren’t really pictures of the living room, since it is essentially an empty black abyss of nothing, but, take it for what you will. So, drumroll please!
And there you have it. Some pictures to satisfy your image-hungry appetite. I will leave you with just one blunder or rather blender of a story.
It was a breezy, but nice, Sunday afternoon. PJ had left to go practice music for church, leaving me alone with my domestic sensibilities, or rather lack thereof. Only the fridge stood between me, the strawberries, and multiple containers of homemade jam. (Pause here. Homemade jam?! You might be thinking. Why? Well because I grew up on homemade jam. My grandmas have always made homemade jam, my mom has always made homemade jam, and now, I must carry on the legacy. ) Step one: wash berries. Done and done. Step two: cut green from berries. A breeze. Step three: Insert berries into blender to be mashed.
It was this step that got me. I got them into the blender all right and even began blending them alright. However at one point, the berries weren’t mashing. So I switched the blender off, stuck a wooden spoon in to push the berries down to their impending doom (sorry berries), and as I switched back on said blender, said wooden spoon was still in blending distance of said impending doom. What happened next was well, disastrous. Berries strewn across my kitchen and onto my cabinets. Mashed berries on the ceiling, and pot rack. And oh yeah, ground up wooden spoon in my potential jam. Domesticity: FAIL. New flavor of jam: SUCCESS.
Just kidding, I threw out the jam. Until next time.