J is for, well, Jay.

I like watching birds.  I especially like watching them at campgrounds.  They seem to figure out so quickly that food is for the taking, if they are quick, or if the humans are dumb enough to leave things out for them. (Even if they didn't mean if for said bird.)

I guess that jays are, in general, some what of a thieving bunch, I looked up "Camp Robber Bird", and this came up, proving that several species of bird can be profiled...

So, this couple leave out a loaf of bread in a plastic bag.  Husband and I tell them they should not leave it unattended.  They laugh it off, saying that it's too heavy for the birds to mess with.  Husband snorts, I roll my eyes, and the couple go off on a walk around the campground.

We watch as a rather large crow, and a jay land within seconds.  The jay pecks at the bag.  I start to rise, and Husband, with a mischievous look, says, "Let 'em.  Remember, it's too heavy for the birds to mess with."  The jay had nearly pecked a hole in the plastic, and the crow was watching, and tugging on the tied end of the loaf.

The crow soon tired of tugging, and started flapping his wings furiously, lifting the loaf to a 45 degree angle, and dragging it across the table.  Just as it was about to fall off, the jay dug in and tried to pull out a slice, succeeding in tearing out a crust to take with it.

The couple shows up and realizes that the bread is just about to do a disappearing act, and take panicked action, whereupon the crow drops the loaf, and the crow and jay land in a nearby tree, screaming avian obscenities at the couple.

They pick up the bread, look at the significant hole, rather mangled center slices, and then glare at us.

"Why didn't you STOP them?"

Husband looks innocently at them, and quotes,"It's too heavy for the birds to mess with."

They glare at us for a minute, pull out the "dirty" slices, and throw them in the trash, and go into their motor home, slamming the door.

And we watch as the crow and jay swoop down, grab a slice each, and land on the now vacated table for lunch.  I was quiet about it, but I said, "Good going, guys..."

Husband just chuckled.

J is for...

Just looking at my animals.
Ran late today, J was a hard one to figure out what to put, but figured the gang could help out...

Mooom! Do I have to sit for all these stupid pictures???

Mon Ami, showing that he loves to be head and feathers above the rest...

Waiting for the apples...

Nope, no apples here, either...

Pictures.  Huh.  Big Whoop.

Photo Bomb!!!

I am Queen of all I survey.  Toes included...

Yep, I am blessed...

Jelly. A high school memory.

I took all sorts of classes in high school.  I was pretty gender neutral in choices, I took auto shop, (and ticked off several of the guys by knowing a lot of the stuff already.  Aced the class, too.  Not bragging, my Dad wasn't about to let me be cowed into a repair because I didn't know what x component of a car was. But I needed elective credits.)

So, I took Home Ec.  They had cut back a bit on it, and it basically was cooking.  I took the class in the late winter.  This doesn't sound like a big deal, and it wasn't, for most of the class. Until we came to making jelly.  For what ever reason, we didn't have anything to make jelly with (i.e. fruit).  The teacher was very resourceful, and we had something else for that class, and made fairly decent jelly.

Kool-Aid. 

Grape Kool-Aid, to be specific.  I still remember the poor kid that was my partner, he kept looking at the purple concoction, and kept repeating this mantra to himself,

"It's supposed to look that way, it's SUPPOSED to look that way, it's supposed to look that way..." 

I truly don't know if he didn't know how to make jelly, (quite possible, he didn't have a clue how to cook when he started), or if he just wasn't confident when he made the stuff.  But we did make the stuff gel, and did the whole nine yards, putting it up with wax, and it was pretty good, the bit we had in class.  (I, however, do not like sweet and savory, and the salty saltines were just a bit on the icky side, for something like that...)

I wanted to give the jar (that I might add, came out looking very pretty), to my grandparents.  They ate jelly on toast quite often, and so I thought they might enjoy it.  I don't know if we forgot to tell them, or what, but a later phone call (they lived in a different state), Grandpa got on the phone, one of the few times he did. 

"Granddaughter, you sent up some jelly."

"Yes, did you like it?"

"Did you make it?  What grapes did you use?"

I told him that indeed I did make it, and that I don't really think that it had any identifiable grape in it, except on the label...  He then replied that it was very nice jelly, but maybe I could make some blackberry jam next time. 

Please note.  I have a feeling that I could have sent a jar of jelled mud and Grandpa would have said it was good, since I made it.  But I also know that my Grandpa loved real fruit jelly and jam, and somehow, even through Ma Bell, I got the sneaking suspicion that perhaps it would not have been his first pick at the restaurant of his choice.   

But after that I made jellies and jams and such with Mom, and later on occasion by myself, and he and Grandma enjoyed those, too. 

Without the proviso of asking if I had made it, which made me feel much more confident they actually liked it...

(And since we have we "blessed" with more blackberry bushes than I know how to stay out of, I think I might be making some jelly this year.  Husband likes jelly, not jam, so I have to dig out my stuff to make that. But, it isn't... Well, you know.)