Screenshot redraw !

HOUSE M.D (2004 - 2012) I 8.20 Postmortem

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This is so wonderful and silly: I can watch t over and over again ... wish it was longer

#3292. Cattoo Artist

My other sites: https://linktr.ee/piperthibodeau

This was a whole thread, here are some of my favourites:

I was gonna draw something more serious but sometimes u just gotta draw memes

this is funnier the earlier in march you reblog it it

✨ it’s march ✨

😔 it’s march 😔

Baby it’s March🤡

happy old gnoll

*Basically anything that isn't a typical farm animal: cow, pig or sheep.

(Obligatory Note: I'm American and this is based on what's overall unconventional to eat in the USA.)

Original blog post

Le important day in meme history has arrived

And Internet history was made.

Here she is in November 2023 celebrating her 18th birthday and being a very good doge.

This is the jam that won second place in the 2021 show. As you can tell from the label, it’s made from raspberries and gooseberries - (because I didn’t have enough of either to make a batch of jam) - and furthermore was filtered to preserve the jammy goodness without the niggling horror of raspberry seeds.

But when i went to collect it after the points-tallying, I saw that the competitor ID number had been swapped. Deliberately and with competitive intent, Competitor 75 had walked past the table, spotted the second place prize, and jumbled our labels so THEY would have more points to the Domestic category, catapulting them to contendorship in the Champion Cup.

The labels were taped down; I was most DEFINITELY Competitor 144; and the taped label with 144 on it had been in place for the jam-judging (Jam Made From Your Own Fruit.) Competitor 75 had unstuck the tape and swapped labels before the judges came around again for the final point tally.

But what were the damages? Although I swanned off with a disruptive first place in the Cakes Made From (your own) Vegetables Category, I was nowhere near dominating the Domestic category, so losing the points didn’t mean I missed my chance at the championship. My vegetables, while pleasant in their own way, failed to place higher than third. And community is important. And the comedy of it.

I said nothing on the day and made a Bit about it instead. I have gotten a lot of mileage out of the Bit.

Anyway, end result: the 2022 jam has to dominate. Watch this space.

The two year old and I have been staring up into trees a lot. Normally on our Fridays together we bumble around town, on a defined walking route, but lately we have been missing all that, going past the library past the shops and past the duckpond and down to a bit of the park. We poke carefully up into the branches with the Poking Stick to see if they are ready, and then when they aren’t, we shrug and go swing on the swings. The reason for this is because Jam (From Your Own Fruit) can include foraged fruit, and nobody else ever looks up. Our secret might give us a slight edge on the competition, and so we spend our Fridays frowning alternately at the trees by the duckpond and the wild blackberries by the school, as the ripeness of blackberries is a good indicator of other things ripening too.

Once the fruits turn red, the wild cherry-plums are much easier to spot. They grow along the river for what seems like miles, if you’re two. Last week we managed to get a bagful of all sorts of them, 550g of them weighed before pitting, which is just about enough for jam.

The wild cherry-plum is Prunus cerasifera, if you want to know: not native to the UK, but naturalised: useful immigrant, border-crosser, first to flower, overlooked. A migrant (but a white Anglo migrant, you know - an expat) I am always thinking about immigrant, invasive. The ecology and politics of migration. Immigrant:invasive::exploitable:intransigent. I am always thinking: who is allowed where, what must be extracted, why must borders be drawn; and in the age of climate breakdown, why?

The two year old is just thinking about stuffing their face with cherry plums.

They come in all different shapes and colors: the big yellow ones bursting with juice are better than anything you can buy, but are impossible to get before they smash on the ground and burst. The dark purple ones are properly plummy-looking. All of them have enormous stones, which make them uncommercial; half the fruit is seed and that’s no good to shoppers.

But it does not take long to get 550g of them for free, even with a two year old, if you don’t mind losing 20% in toddler tax. We took them home and cooked them up with cinnamon, star anise, ginger and cloves to make “spiced wild cherry-plum conserve” (I cannot label it as a jam for competition purposes as it does not meet the very rigorous assessment criteria.) the children ate half a jar instantly and the picture above is the singular jar I have left.

It’s spicy and surprising and nobody else will have it.This might be it. The 2022 jam.

The wild cherry-plum concoction won third place at the show! Not bad, considering the competition. First place went to a golden raspberry vanilla jam, which took home the Domestic cup. No labels were swapped. There were a lot of contestants and it’s only my second year of competitive jam-making, so I’m happy just to place 💪

Dug up this post to cross-reference last year’s ripeness week. We’re running a bit late, but it’s time to go looking for cherry-plums again.

2023 was A Bad Year for Wild Cherry-Plums. That’ll be the title of the third book in my series. Agents, hit me up. Look how much people love it. Can you afford to sleep on a comic almanac about competitive jams?

Winds shook down the wild cherry-plums before they ripened. The weather was just what the trees like, and they held up their hands full of plums, but the wind slapped ‘em all down.

An unripe plum is a useful thing - rich in pectin, a heteropolysaccharide. It’s the necessary potion-ingredient for making jam jammy. If your attempt at jam is sad and watery, pectin will save you, and a handful of almost-ripe plums thrown into the pot will congeal it beautifully. But green, rock-hard infant plums definitely don’t make a jam.

There was only one weather window for it this summer, and the whole family - there are five of us now! - picked wild cherry-plums and only achieved about 200g. Worse, for the first time, another family were blackberrying, and saw us doing it. “Are they cherries, then?” The mother asked, holding out some she’d already found. “We wondered. Are they edible?”

I told her they were, graciously sharing foraging knowledge … at the cost of my own jam.

I put our scanty plums in the freezer. I laid out my elaborate backup plans. I collected pears from the allotment - pears ripen best off the tree; this was my wind-proof plan. I consulted a library book, and bought real vanilla pods. The resulting Pear and Vanilla Jam confused everyone. I invited people over for jam-tasting, and they were, at best, polite about it. Not good enough with prizes to be had! Not to worry: my backup plans have backup plans.

You see, 2023 was A Good Year for Blackberries. It was such a good year that someone wrote an article simply about noticing this and received cash money for putting it in The Guardian. (Again, agents: call me.) on every walk the children would take off their hats and fill them with blackberries. Hats full of blackberries, everywhere. And good berries, too, not the nasty small hard dry ones we had last year, which the children picked but didn’t even want. These blackberries got fat and rich on the cool constant rain. They shone as black and glossy as a nice dachshund.

Nobody could walk past without filling their hands. Brambles stretched to offer them up. It’s been like the earth giving everyone a kind, forgiving handshake. Nice to see you; here, have some.

the problem is that in A Good Year for Blackberries, every-bastard-and-their-dog makes blackberry jam.

This is not how we win prizes.

However, I had some wild cherry-plums in the freezer. I had the eye of the tiger. I sent my scouts to the corners of the neighborhood. I made spiced blackberry and wild cherry-plum jam. Full of all the wind and rain of a strange summer, it looks ahead to the season of mist and mulled wine. Elegiac and a bit sad.

It is 2024, and I wrote up the first few thousand words of A Bad Year For Wild Cherry-Plums and submitted it to a memoir contest, where they politely informed me that it wasn’t a memoir; which I then realised was entirely correct, although I had to sulk about it for a bit, because I bet this never happens to Robert MacFarlane.

It is February and honesty shelf at the allotment, where people can sell their wares, has an unexpected new development. Look at the ingredience. I am still reeling. If this is is the level of quantum we are bringing to the allotment show then I need to get my head in the FUCKING game.

I made these.

I-I made them for y-you Tumblr.

ACCEPT MY LOVE.

Happy V Day.

-M

Jesus didn't have a formal last name or surname like modern people do. He was simply known in his time as Yeshua ben-Yosef (Jesus, son of Joseph). The term "Christ" is a title meaning "anointed one". It comes from the Greek word χριστός (chrīstós). The word is derived from the Greek verb χρίω (chrī́ō), meaning "to anoint." In the Greek Septuagint, χριστός was a semantic stand-in word used to translate the Hebrew מָשִׁיחַ (Mašíaḥ, messiah), meaning "[one who is] anointed". So in short, OP is right. Calling him Jesus Christ is very similar to calling sans Sans Undertale. Or maybe more like a Dark Souls boss? I wouldn't want to battle [Yeshua, The Anointed One.]

I would like to add yeshua means joshua

It's Josh the anointed one

Josh, Lathered in Oil

It is not uncommon for Jumblr to refer to him as Oily Josh. I've also seen Shuki.