A couple of reasons I know that my jamming has overtaken some prime emotional real estate: 1) I was ready to try a new method—with pectin, well Pomona, the local pectin—of jam making, 2) on someone’s status update about jamming, I commented mistakenly thinking you know—jamming, as in jam making rather than jamming as in music making—and then confessed the error of my ways and was invited to come to the music jam session bearing food and 3) daunted by calcium water instructions, made jam yet another way and 4) had a friend over to bring her into the sisterhood of the jam society. Amy came over bearing her box of peach seconds. We were like twinsies.
Oh, three was a no-brainer: consult with Fannie. It’s not exactly a coincidence that the critical tome was a gift from my mother-in-law, goddess of pies, jam, and too many dishes to mention.
After our successful adventure in jamming, Amy and Lucien watched the Republican debate. I was on bedtime duty. Every once in a while I heard laughter, although I’m pretty sure none of these Republicans is a laughing matter. I am sure that no matter how frustrated I feel about the current state of affairs or how President Obama is faring, the alternative is unthinkable. I also know we’re going to make more jam—and then she and Lucien and perhaps others are watching the President’s speech this evening.
Not that I am mixing politics and jam.
Monday, Labor Day, we held our Not Labor Day Not Exactly Block Party on Labor Day this year—and in the rain. The rain wasn’t bad. I’d just forgotten the rain date part this year (oops, right when we needed it).
As is always the case with our willingness for the block-ish party to be very loosely a block-ish party, we have a grand old time. The core—the near neighbors—adore the gathering every year and assorted guests beyond our daily dog or kid walks love it, too. Once on the list, you are on the list.
Afterwards, we were exhausted. So, the next day we dove into everything we have to do all over again. You know, because it’s fall and school and all that good stuff. Boom.
Labor Day meant no yoga—and so was doubly pleased to return yesterday. Yoga, like jamming, is that much more fun with friends—and it turns out yoga class is another spot where there are friends.
So although it’s been raining and pouring and freaking me the heck out—rightly so—and we have all kinds of adjustments to the school year going on and I have a pile of work making me a little anxious in its stacked-up-highness, I’m pretty cheery.
Remy had a good day at school yesterday. It was the first day of his former school was in session. I found it very strange not to be walking over there. As we waited for the bus so close to the old school I realized that when I moved two blocks from the old house to our current house, I could keep my running route. I made my morning loop around the campus, same as always.
My love of routine, it’s pretty deep. I would not be surprised if jamming and yoga make the Sarah cut.