The Insanity That Is A Runner


Ridiculous.  Stupid.  Crazy.  Dreadful.

Miles 1-9.  I was rocking it.  Rocking it!  I was enjoying scenery.  You know it’s a great run when you can gander into the glorious beauty that you are running by. I was light on my feet, the pace was comfortable, the morning glorious.  I enjoyed my water and my energy beans…it was like a dream.  I was rocking it.

Mile 10.  Half way.  Time to come on home.  Right on track for time.  A smile on my face.  I love running!

Mile 11.  Still smiling.  Started talking to myself.  ‘i’m doing great.  this isn’t so bad.  my last long run was just really humid.  i can do this.  easy.’

Mile 12.  Still smiling.  I waved at a guy on a tractor who moved off the shoulder so I could keep running.  ‘what a great guy.  i’m so glad he didn’t run me over.  nice guy! great run!’

Mile 13.  Not as fast as my fastest half, but doing really, really well.  ‘this is amazing.  i love running!  this is a great, great day!’

Mile 14.  I approached an occasional store out in the middle of nowhere.  Because when you live in a tiny town and you have to run 20 miles, you end up in the middle of nowhere.  This occasional store, that’s occasionally open, was open today.  And apparently it’s a very popular occasional store.  {perhaps they should consider being more than occasionally open}  There were cars everywhere.  Cars filled with women.  No car had only one woman going to the occasional store.  Oh, no!  Two, Three, Four, Five.  They were like clown cars.  Women squashed into every inch of these SUVs and minis dumping out onto the county road blocking my path with their doors and bodies and laughing and general jovialness.  Women sure are a happy bunch in groups going to occasional stores.    I understand a crazy woman out in the middle of nowhere running is not what you’re expecting to see when you’re focused on an amazing find at the occasional store, so i’m not blaming them.  But because of the droves of women {and the one guy I saw, who didn’t seem excited at all to be there} I had to shuffle my steps and slow WAY down.  But not to worry, I thought.  After all, I have been rocking it.  And I only have 6 miles to go.  Pewwwwfwww  No worries.

Mile 15.  Bad.  Side ache.  I’ve never had a side ache before.  I drank some water and downed a gel.  I hobbled along hoping my side would improve.  ‘why does my side hurt.  if it wasn’t hurting i’d be moving along at a great clip.  ugh!  get better side!’  

Mile 16.  Side ache disappeared.  Praises!  I’ll pick up the pace and make up that lost time.  Time lost on the occasional shopper obstacle course & the side ache.  ‘it’s ok.  i’m going to be a ok.  i love to run!’

Mile 17.  all sorts of ugly has arrived.  I am now talking out loud to myself.  Loud.  Over my headphones so I can hear what I’m saying.  Loud.  Back in town.  Insanity defined.    ‘i don’t want to run anymore.  why can’t I teleport?  i want to teleport.  my DI team must develop teleportation this year.  i want to be done.’  A blister was forming at lightening speed on my left baby toe. ‘will my toes still fit in my shoe?  i think it’s going to poke out the side of my shoe.  what do you do when your toe pokes a hole through your shoe?  this is awful.  stupid blister.’ Ridiculousness.  ‘i never want to run again.  as long as i live, i will never put on running shoes again.’

Mile 18.5.  The crying begins.  Weeping really.  Ugly crying.  And I’m still talking to myself.  Loud.  In town.  With people near.  And I may have used some non-PG words.  Maybe…or not…I plead insanity.   Hot mess defined.  ‘i’m not doing it.  i am not doing the marathon.  i don’t care that i’ve done all the hard work to train, running is stupid.  i’m not doing it.  i hate running.  this is not fun.  nothing about this is fun.  nothing.  this is horrible.  i hate running.  i hate people who run.  all people who run-hate them.  i never am running again.’

Mile 19.5.  Crying ceases.  I proudly declare with definite resolution ‘i’m not doing the marathon.   i’m just not.  i’ll just say i don’t want to do it.  it’s stupid anyway. running is dumb.  i hate running.  it’s not even fun.  why do something not fun for more than 4 hours.  not doing it!‘  

Mile 20.  smile.  ‘done.  i did it.   but I’m never doing it again. running shoes are never being tied onto these feet.  ever.  running is dumb and so are runners.  so i’m not running.’

Ice bath.  Hot tea.  Lots of water.  Lots and lots of food.  Stretching.  More food. ‘never again!’  More food.  Sleep.

Wake up.  Legs feel good.  Blisters are disappearing.  Smile.  ‘i wonder if i can do better next time?  i bet i could push through without a side ache & then i’d be good.  and there will be no occasional store shoppers for the race.  i can do it.  i can.  i know it. i can’t wait for the marathon. i love running.  i love bring a runner.  running is great!  yes!  can’t wait for the marathon!’

The insanity that is the runner.

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Still. 9/11

It’s that lump in my throat, that catch in my breath at the mention of “September 11th”.  Still.  All these many years later.  It’s frozen.  That pit, that fear.  Still.911

I can see it as if it were yesterday.  As if I’m still standing in the bedroom getting ready for work with my 16 month old in the next room & seeing that plane, hearing the fear in the reporters voice, the silence of not understanding or knowing what to even report. Still.

There are moments.  These moments.  We never ever forget.  These are public moments. Collective flashes of time that everyone remembers.  If you were alive on September 11, 2001 & living in America – you know.  It’s not unlike the JFK assassination or Pearl Harbor of generations before.  It’s the photograph & the video that we all share.  It was in our collective cry, grief, fear, and outrage.  And we felt it all together.  And we still feel it.  Still.

It’s different now.  There’s nearly an entire generation that doesn’t remember, doesn’t really know.  They have the book knowledge of it, but not the emotional memory.  They don’t know the instant that the world changed. When it crumbled.  We {America} were attacked.  In our house.  On our soil.  Not since Pearl Harbor.  Not on our main land.  And it broke something.  At least it broke something in me.  A security, no matter how false, was ripped away.  They could come here.  They could kill us here.  They could bring their hatred to us.  We were no longer safe.  Are no longer completely safe.  Still.

Is this how my grandparents felt?  I couldn’t understand the importance of Pearl Harbor, couldn’t fathom why it was such a big deal.  Yet when they spoke, there was a catch in their voice.  They looked back into their thoughts to remember.  Is this how my dad felt when I asked him thousands of time where he was when JFK was shot?  And then stood amazed that he remembered every detail.  Those moments.  This moment.  Etched forever me,  in us.  Stealing a little something away.  Still.

I will remember.  I cannot forget.  Ever.  I will remember the lives lost, the innocence taken, the anger, the fear, the loss.  I will remember because the next generation cannot remember but still must know.  Must see.  Must hear.  We must tell the story and remember the day if for no other reason than to honor those who were lost and those who were left.  I hate to remember.  To relive that day.  But I must always remember.  Still

The Trouble with Kim Davis…and me

I don’t know.  I’m at a bit of a loss as I think about Kim Davis & her stand for, well, I guess her stand against gay marriage.  She’s the gal that refused to issue marriage licenses to same-sex couples because of her deep moral convictions & then she was found in contempt of court and got herself thrown into jail.  Then she got released & had a press conference where she was cheered on by a bunch of folks and a couple of Republican presidential candidates.

kim davisI watched her on that podium.  I saw her stand there with her hands raised thanking God and her fellow prayer warriors {my words, not hers}.  I heard the cheers from the crowd showing support for her defiance and “bravery” to take a stand against something they all saw as immoral and wrong.  And I couldn’t help but think ‘what are you doing?’.

From the outside looking in, absolutely nothing about this situation looks inviting, welcoming or kind.  Rather, it looks a bit more like a mob of people with a belief pointing their fingers at something they see as bad and pushing it out.  No part of this says, “come just as you are, we want you to be included because we know that the Spirit is powerful & can turn in hearts that have never turned to Him before, if we just get out of the way and let Him move.”  If I was not a believer, I would never in a million years choose to become a part of what I saw there.  Run away.  How does this point anyone to Christ?

“But, oh my oh my, if we don’t tell them the truth about their sin, that’s not loving at all” I hear you naysayers saying.  And you might have a point. But I have a better one.  {just kidding…sort of…my point is going to be good though}  We have to be able to discern when we can speak truth into the lives of those we love. Catch that last bit?  Speak truth into the lives of those we love.  I don’t think it does any good to just throw around the “truth” without a relationship of love behind it.  That relationship is vital.  And it must be real.  Real.  Jesus did it.  I’m sure he wasn’t in agreement with the behaviours of the prostitutes that showed up at the dinner party at Matthew’s house.  But I can imagine that he was welcoming & kind, getting to know them before he shared the truth with them.  Time and time again it can be seen that Jesus welcomed, built a relationship and then told the truth.  And it seems that more often than not, Jesus’ big truth telling moments were just between him and the person he was truth-telling too.  That doesn’t look much like what was happening in Kentucky to me.

Sin grieves the Holy Spirit.  It makes him sad.  I think it made Jesus sad when he walked among us.  And it should sadden us to. It shouldn’t sadden us because it’s filthy.  It should sadden us because it is what separates each of us from God.  And it should sadden us to the point where we are so concerned for souls that we will do anything to reach them.  We will go to where they are.  We should be so overwhelmed with the truth we believe that we faithfully pray for those that haven’t found the hope we hold to.  I think rather than being moral compasses for the masses, we need to be the walking mercy along side each other. The religious obnoxiousness of Jesus’ day questioned why he hung out with tax collectors and sinners. Jesus’ answer is fairly familiar…he said because those who are well have no need of a physician, only those who are sick.

I wonder how often I’m looking for the sick?  How often am I earnestly wanting to find the sick to introduce them to the Physician?  And how often do I arrogantly think I’m the physician?  I’m not the physician, but I try to play one sometimes, getting people all fixed up before I invite them into my life.  Instead, I should be the ambulance inviting all kind of sinners into the van to meet the true Physician.  And on the way to Him, we can chat & get to know one another & build a relationship so that when the Physician approaches the sick will more likely want to meet him.

I’m saddened to realize that I tend to gather together with other believers far more often to build up great walls.  Walls that I hurl truth from like cannon balls from a mighty fortress.  I stand back and watch them flatten people while my friends cheer me on.  Some love {note sarcasm}.  Instead I think I need to be working together with others to build larger tables to invite more sinners to gather together. To put away the bombs, open the massive gates and let everyone in.  We can all share a meal and a conversation and build relationships.  I may not {will not} approve of everyone’s choices.  That’s true.  And after I’ve spent some time with them getting to be friends, I may have the opportunity to explain that to them in a most loving, gentle, merciful way.  And their heart might be moved, or not.

After all I’m just a sinner too.  I just sin in more Christian-circle-socially-acceptable ways.  And I’ve been redeemed.  Hallelujah!  Not because I was the right kind of sinner or because I did all the right things to earn redemption, but because I trust Jesus & His work on the cross to redeem me.  What a truth that is!  I should want to meet everyone in all kinds of sins to share the joy of redemption and grace.  Not everyone will believe it, not everyone will accept it, not everyone will be kind.  But no matter.  I should still be seeking out the lost, praying earnestly for their hearts to be softened to hear from God, inviting them into my life & being a part of theirs all without compromising my bible beliefs while showing great mercy & grace.  I see this is where fruit is born.

Ebates Works!

Skeptical.  Absolutely.  The commercial said they would pay me to shop.  Could they be serious?  What exactly is the catch?

No catch.  Just cash!big fat check!

I made my first purchase using the EBATES site last month.  It was something I was going to purchase online anyway.  Click, click, click.  Easy.

The email said I’d earned $3.04 for my $29.94 purchase.  I was pretty sure I would have to wait to accumulate a whole lot more of those little amounts before I’d see the cash in my hand.  But no.  A  big fat check for $3.04 arrived to my door at the month’s end.  Easy.

Then my welcome gift arrived a week after that.  I had selected a Target gift card as a gift when I originally signed up.  I never thought I’d actually see that little piece of plastic in my hand – so many hoops & fine print, I thought.  But again I was wrong.   $10 in hand to spend at Target!  Winner, winner!

It’s the easiest ever!  You shop online anyway…get cash back & other deals.  No catch.  Head over here.  Get signed up, pick a good welcome gift & then be on your shopping way.  Big fat checks will follow you!  Try it out.  It works!  For real!

Ebates Coupons and Cash Back

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Let them be employed!

Acroprint-150-2Stop it!  How can this be?

Employed.  My baby has a job.  A real-life, needs to fill out paperwork, going to get a paycheck job.  J.O.B.  What happened?  He was just a red-haired, brown-eyed screaming little guy in my arms.  Now he’s all tall & manly & driving & employed.  Amazing how children grow & get older &, ridiculous as it seems, I do not.  {straight face, friends}

But seriously, it really is this mama’s dream, I must admit.  Not necessarily that he be employed today, but that he be employed in life. That he knows how to get a job, keep a job, work for a boss, be on time, do stuff that’s not any fun but has to be done just because it’s your job.  That he has an understanding that to get a raise, you have to put in some time & put forth a good attitude & work ethic.  Training them up while the consequences are still minimal is my favorite parenting motto…maybe my only motto…except bed time is necessary & rolling eyes leads to rolling that phone right into mama’s hand & your ego is not your amigo…


I listen enough to Dr. Laura {you know you love her!} to know that there is something happening in our culture with our boys.  It’s pretty much unique to our most-recent generations.  They never learn to live on their own, never need to leave home because everything’s so easy on the homefront.  They let mama & papa pay the bills, cook the food, lauder the laundry.  They get to sit in darkened bedrooms {likely cleaned by mama} and play video games.  What a deal!  Sha•weet!  Why leave?  So they never leave home.  Let that sink in slowly.  Never. Leave. Home.  I love my boys {and girl} & I love them being home.  For now.  But heaven help me if I’m still providing their food & laundry service when they’re in their late 20’s and 30’s. {unless it’s a unusual situation involving a life hardship}  I love them & want them to like home but,  I really, really, really want them to fly…to get out there, to meet the love of their life or decide to pursue adventure, to try stuff & sometimes succeed.  I don’t want to make life so fabulous here at my house that I rob them of the adventure of flying without me.  How selfish that would be?  Sel•Fish!  And I want my kiddos to learn what it’s like to live on mac n’ cheese eaten out of mismatched thrift store bowls because that’s all that’s affordable.  Because when you learn to live on nothing, and work to get a little something, that something is precious & valued.  These are the moments that grow them.  When they open it up, see that they’re made of good stuff & fly.

Employment.  Not exactly a guarantee that the red head will fly out of this nest for good one day.  But I think it’s a good first step with lots of great lessons to be learned.

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Throw Back Thursday No.1 {8/26/2008}

IMG_2170I dropped off the littlest Weed at Middle School Orientation yesterday morning.  Middle.  School.

I’m not a terribly emotional gal.  But this has hit. Wham! Middle School.  She’s ready though.  She’s ready.  So, I’ll smile & be ready too.  If I have to.

But while I’m in the midst of preparing myself to be ready for her leap to the halls of terror, errr I mean Middle School, I thought I’d throw it back.  Back to August 26, 2008.  {seven years ago already!!}  She was 3.  It was BabyGirl’s ‘Premier Jour’!

Yesterday was BabyGirl’s first day at the jardin d’enfant (preschool)!  She is attending school in our local village, Veyrier.  She was pretty excited, although when we got to the school, she wrapped her arms around me VERY tightly and said she didn’t want to go.  She buried her head into my shoulder and wouldn’t look at anyone.  I walked around the room, pointing at all the fun new toys and “big kid” things that were awaiting a big girl like her to play with.  Finally, her teacher from last year, Barbara, approached and she gladly wrapped her arms around her neck and let Barbara have her.  P8243934

By the time the boys and I got to pick her up later that afternoon, she was no longer attached to Barbara’s neck and was running around the playground with her new friends.  She proclaimed it was the best day of her life!  Yahoo!  She can do it!

She will go four half-days each week.  Monday and Tuesday afternoons and Thursday and Friday mornings.  And being that it is entirely in French, she (and I) will be learning a huge amount this year.  A big step for such a little girl…I often forget she is only 3.  Perhaps I should be more tearful, sending her to school, she is my “baby” after all.  But for whatever reason, I am not tearful or sad.  I’m excited that she gets to go to public school in Switzerland and learn in French and have a great time with other little ones.
Are you kidding me?  Look at her adorable little self.  Those cheeks!  I could just squeeze ’em & kiss ’em & eat her up!  This was just a moment ago.  I remember it with such vividity {that may or may not be an actual word, but I will use it & make it mine}.  So cute, standing in the sunshine of our little Swiss house, in the shadow of the Saleve.  She was ready then.  She’s ready now. Middle School will be ok.  She’ll be fine.  She’ll be just fine.  And…no worries…I will too.

5 Things I’ve learned from Josh Duggar

I was a Duggar fan.  You know the Duggar family?  From Arkansas, Jim Bob {you cannot make some of this stuff up} and Michelle and their, well, 19 kids.  They are conservative Christians, perhaps ultra-conservative would be more fitting.  They home school. They organize their pantry like a grocery store {dreamy}.  The kids do chores {actually do them & smile – at least on t.v.}.  They wear ridiculous swimming costumes {pulling out my British on this one}.  They talk a lot about God & the Bible.

I have to admit I was skeptical at first sight.  I know absolutely no one with a family that large & I know no mother who never raises her voice at her children, especially with 19 of them.  They’re a bit of an oddity.  But like any good freak show, I had to rubberneck it & couldn’t stop watching.  {not that I think they’re a freak show…just something SO different it’s freaky…in a good way…maybe…or not…i don’t know} Perhaps I admired Michelle a bit for the way she remained calm & peaceful, the way she lowered her head to look directly into the eyes of her little ones when correcting their behaviour.  So unlike my own way, which often involves my flailing of arms & yelling into the abyss hoping words land on the child they are directed towards.  I’m more of a tornado.  Michelle?  A calm wave washing up on the shore.  At least on t.v.  Which is the trouble with reality television.  Anyway…

josh duggarIf you haven’t yet heard, let me fill you in.  Seems the eldest Duggar child, Josh, has run himself into a humdinger of a situation. After last month’s scandal in which he confessed to making bad decisions as a young teen & behaving most inappropriately with his sisters, this latest yuck involves his inappropriateness as an adult.   Seems he decided looking at porn & cheating on his wife were excellent decisions.  Yikes!  All this while he tooted his horn about the importance of family values and morals and ethics.  Double Yikes!  His name appeared on the Ashley Madison hacker lists & he fessed up & said he was sorry.  I don’t know if he’s sorry he cheated on his wife or if he’s sorry he got caught cheating on his wife…and really that’s not for me to determine.  I can’t see his heart {thank heavens!} so this matter lies only between him & God.  I’ll keep my own self out of it.

What I do know is the more I thought about the whole thing, the more I read the ick that folks posted on social media, the more I had to sit back & do some thinking.  Here’s what this simple mind thought:

  1. Sometime Reality Isn’t Real.  For the past how many years, I cannot even count, I’ve watched Josh Duggar on t.v. with his wife, Anna.  I watched them awkwardly side hug upon his proposal.  I watched them more awkwardly kiss when they said “I do”.  I watched Anna give birth at their home {more than once} & I’ve watched them hang out at Josh’s used car lot, just so they didn’t have to be apart so long.  It all looked like it was on the up & up.  Awkward.  But genuine love.  But reality isn’t always real.  What happens behind closed doors sometimes {many times} is different than what we actually see.  On t.v. and with our friends down the street.  No ones life is exactly on-point at all times.
  2. People Fail.  It can be good to have people to look up to, admire, think are worthy of imitating.  I’m all for finding friends & mentors to help with life.  But remember #1 {reality isn’t always real}.  People are going to fail.  Even the most upstanding citizen with all the character qualities you’d like to fill yourself with is not perfect.  To elevate them to a place that only Jesus should occupy will leave you, well, feeling like you have to rub their face in the dirt all over social media.  Reserve the pedestal for Jesus!
  3. We Are Not Called To Critique Everyone.  Speaking of social media, where in the name of all things good in this world did we get the stupid idea that we can go about being the critiquers of everything on the social media airwaves?  Let some things remain unsaid.  Shut up. It doesn’t all need to flow from your fingers to the screen.  Even if it’s the truest truth that’s ever been true, you may not have earned the right to say it.  Save your criticism for people you have built actual relationships with.  And then social media may not be {is not} your best avenue.
  4. Mama, You’re Doing A Great Job.  I don’t know Michelle at all.  But I can imagine that at least once in the past week she’s questioned what she did wrong.  It’s what us moms do.  All us moms.  We have this idea that if we do just what we’re supposed to do, at the absolute correct time, in the right way, with the exact tone of voice & proper balance of grace, then we get kids that are perfect.  It’s like a math equation: A+B=C.  And then if our kid goes all rogue, we assume we have failed.  But breaking news, our kids are not us.  They are them.  And, regardless of our attempts to control them {or is that just me?}, they make their own decision. Good ones.  And bad ones too.  Not because us moms failed, but because they’re human.  Just like us.  They wander! We do the best we know to do.  We love them with as much love as we know to give.  They grow up & fly.  Sometimes they fly high & straight.  Sometimes they fly directly into a tree.  But it’s not all on us.  They get to chose their path.  And our success as moms cannot be determined by the flight path that our children take.  Look at Adam & Eve.  Two sons.  One kills the other.  Did Eve fail?  I don’t think so.  I think her son did.
  5. God Still Uses Losers.  This is not just good news for Josh.  This is great news for me.  Because truth be told, I’m a failure too.  Maybe not as a registered user of an adultery website cheating on my spouse while whacking people over the head with my family values Bible verses, but I’m equally as awful.  And I seem to remember a certain Bible guy who was pretty awful too.  David.  If he had Ashley Madison available to him, he’d have been on.  Absolutely.  But old school BC required just a lady next door taking a bath on her roof {and being the king helped too}.  He got her pregnant.  And then had her hubby killed.  Can you imagine the social media backlash?  {course, as king he’s more a kin to Pres. Clinton so maybe never mind}  But God still used him.  His life was covered with God.  Covered.  Not tomorrow, but after time & growth & strengthening.  God covered his life with Him.  God can use a loser.  Hope is NEVER lost.   hallelujah!

I would not in million years want to be inside the Duggar world right now.  The pain.  The lies.  The betrayal.  The hurt.  The, well, yuck!  I don’t want to be a fly on their wall.  I cannot fathom the thoughts that are streaming through Anna’s mind as she is up feeding a newborn baby.  Sin is ugly & it lays a path of disaster from it’s center, reaching more than the one in the middle, but to all those standing near.  I have no opinions on how anyone should handle anything about this…I’ve not lived this…I have not earned the right to speak into their lives…and truly, I honestly have no idea.  But I hope that whatever direction they fly, they fly with the strength of God beneath their wings & with the hope of Christ leading the direction.  May they ignore the noise, be still & listen to the voice they know as truth, even if they’ve ignored it before.  He still uses losers.

Kickin’ Tomato Jam Recipe

My garden is overflowing!  In particular my 3 cherry tomato plants are heavy with all the goodness of summer. We’ve eaten cherry tomatoes like candy, in salads, in bruschetta, in salsa, in marinara sauce…I was beginning to get really tired of these little wonders. I googled cherry tomato recipes & tomato jam popped up.  What?  Could that even be good?

Kickin' Tomato Jam Jar

Holy Hannah!  Let me tell you all about it.  It’s sweet, kind of like any ole’ jam.  But it’s spicy too.  With a kick!  It’ll add a little zip to just about anything you slather it on.  It’ll kiss you at first & then bite you.

So let’s get cooking:

Start with a whole bunch of cherry tomatoes.  Wash them up & take off their stems.  Throw them in a pot.  Do not peel them!  Do not seed them!  Just toss them in the pot.

Add everything else to the pot.  Fresh ingredients, my friend.  With so few things making up this pot of deliciousness, make every ingredient count!  Get the heat on about medium-high & get it boiling.  Stir it to make sure it’s not sticking to the bottom.  That sugar will burn if you let it & that is definitely not what you want.

After it gets boiling, cut that heat WAY back.  I sat my gas burner on “simmer-high” but if you don’t have a simmer setting, turn it to low & keep an eye on it.  Again no burning that sugar!

Get your canning supplies ready while your watching the pot-of-yum simmer away.  Wash up your jars & lids.  You’ll want your jars warm, so when it’s close to filling time, put your jars in a pot of simmering water on the stove.

When the tomato jam is all thick & ooey {you’ll know} it’s ready to can.  Fill your warm jars, leaving a 1/4 inch of head space.  Wipe the rims of the jar with a clean towel, place the lid on & screw on the ring.  Place the jars in the canner & process in the boiling water bath for 20 minutes.

kickin' tomato jam jars

Pull them out.  Set them on a towel & let them cool.  Let them sit there a good 24 hours.  The happy sound of lids plinking should fill the air soon.  If a jar doesn’t seal, no big deal.  Open it up & slather it on some cheese with a cracker.  Taste buds scream yum!

FullSizeRender 52 Put the sealed jars in your pantry for up to a year {as if they’ll last that long} & throw any unsealed jars in your refrigerator & eat in the next week or two.  Or finish it off today – I’m not judging.  It’s that good!  It is.  I’m imagining this delight on sandwiches, on hamburgers, used to dip fries in – oh my!  It will jazz up anything you might have thought to put boring ketchup on before.  Give it a whirl.  It’s amazing!  Print the kickin’ tomato jam recipe here.

kickin' tomato jam recipe

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