February 7th, 2011
Back in March of 2010, I started reorganizing the pantry. I say that as if it had been organized at any prior time. That might be misleading. Before and after pics would have been great. But I have this flaw. This fatal flaw. I can never remember to take before pics. And. And. We’re not exactly at after. We’re closer to after than before, but on a continuum of before and after we’re here ————|—–.
First, I found these yummy confiture jars from France. They’re working out real well.
Next came the cracker jars from Anchor Hocking in the US of A. I’m living for the red lids.
The various shades of my sideboard are a testament to my photography skills. That’s right. I don’t have any.
Last month, I found these. These beautiful, delicious, hermetic jars from Italy.
Red. One of my signature colors.
Sizes 1/2 litre to 5 litre. Be still my pantry-organizing heart.
See. Fido.
The whole yummy jar with rubber gasket. This is the 2 litre. I’m filling them with sugars and corn meal, and steel cut oats, and…everything.
FYI — No. I’m not leaving that gasket in the bottom. I’m putting it on the underside of the lid where it belongs. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be much of a hermetic jar.
I love them so.
I’m procrasti-writing today.
Hello, Monday!
Elen
Disclaimer: No one knows me at Bormioli Rocco in Italy, and I don’t know anyone at Bormioli Rocco either. Sames goes for Anchor Hocking in the USA and the confiture jar makers in France, whoever they may be.
March 22nd, 2010
I ran out of titles. I do that sometimes. When I do, I like to do what they do in the art galleries. You know. You’re shuffling along the perimeter of the floor, peering at the frames on the wall, and to the left or the right you’ll see a little plaque that says something like untitled crayon on construction paper, series II.
That’s what I’ve got here today — untitled post on WordPress blog, series II.
Moving on.
Mama Weather pulled a nutty this weekend and dropped the temperature and snow flurries on my neck of Canadaland. She’s trying to make amends by pushing it up to 40 something today, but my socks and hoodie aren’t buying it.
Gracie Allen Squirrel Buster doesn’t care about the state of Mama Weather’s mental health. She’s totally focused on one thing, and one thing only — squirrel-busting. My perennial borders may not survive her squirrel-bustin’ ways.
I misspoke. She has another focus. A deep, on-the-genetic-code focus. A reptilian brain urge to roll in the dead grass-cum-mud like a horse in pasture. She only does the full body shake once she hits the indoors. My central vac is terminal.
I’m still organizing the pantry. I found these cracker jars by Anchor Hocking, made in the USA. They have a lovely ribbed-glass pattern which you probably can’t see, brilliant photographer that I am.
I live for shiny, red lids.
I’m going back to get a dozen more. The only thing better is if the one on the right was filled with Cadbury Mini Eggs.
In other breaking news: My iPod died. Somebody drove a stake through its little undead battery. Wah. If you’re following me on Twitter, this is old news.
Indoors or out, no one relaxes in March, that month of wind and taxes, the wind will presently disappear, the taxes last us all the year. ~Ogden Nash
Hello Monday!
Elen
