I’m good. Just ask me.

This bottling/domestic thing is becoming a weekly event. It seems terribly appropriate to gloat about the latest batch – fig and walnut jam – given the vernacular meaning of the acronym FIGJAM. It’s true. I am. But I’m also very, very, sticky because there are bits of jam all over the place, such as my inner elbow and the top of my boots. How did it get there? I just don’t know. My grandfather used to claim that marmalade walks up the spoon handle. Maybe fig jam does too.