Hello 2008!

Today I opened a jar of maraschino cherries.

3 people had previously tried unsuccessfully to open the jar of maraschino cherries, including a fairly burly man. But I knew it was no match for me. If there's one thing I do well, it's opening rebellious jars. As I walked home from Bible Study I contemplated how exactly I came to possess this remarkable ability.

I think it all started when I was little, and we would have big family dinners at my Grandma's house. As we all sat down to eat around the big dining room table, we would hold hands and sing:

"Sing thank you to God, joyously sing;
Sing thank you to God, for every good thing."

And then we would proceed to squeeze THE CRAP out of whoevers' hands we were holding at the time. Hopefully you weren't sitting next to Uncle Al. He showed no mercy, even to seven-year-old girls. So as I grew up, and this tradition continued, my grip got progressively stronger and stronger.

Another factor is heredity. My mom can also open any jar you throw at her (but if you do throw a jar at her, be prepared to get beat). She is so strong, in fact, that the neighbor girl is convinced that my mom is the strongest woman in the world. She used to volunteer to beat up any kids that made fun of me in elementary school. And when I told her that I couldn't sleep because I was afraid there were monsters in the house, she put on the mean face and told me, as a matter of fact, that she didn't allow monsters in the house. And I believed her.

So back to the maraschino cherries...I actually think maraschino cherries are quite possibly the grossest thing invented since processed cheese and SPAM. Nothing like taking a terrific fruit and suspending it in some chemically-enhanced fructose solution. Anyway, I was opening them for my co-teacher. She was having the kids make canapes today to teach them about food verbs.

What on earth, you ask, is a "canape" (kah-nah-pay)?? Well she asked me, expecting me to know. I told her it was French. That was my best guess anyway.

So first she told the kids to take a cracker and put in on a plate. Then she told them to put cheese on the cracker.

So far, so good.

And then she told them to put mayonnaise on it. I start wondering exactly where she's going with this.

And then she says "Put the lettuce on top." At this point I am very thankful that I am not making a canape, whatever that is.

But she's not finished. Oh no. And now for the clincher:

"Next, put the cherry on the lettuce."

The kids, though visibly shaken, do as she says. At this point, I have the "What the..." look plastered all over my face, and I'm not making an effort to conceal it. To her credit, the canape did look beautiful.

"Now, you can enjoy the canape!" she exclaims.

What happens next will live on with me forever.

"UUUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" all 20 children exclaim in unison, along with me and the assistant teacher. My poor co-teacher just looked confused. I was trying to think of how to explain the opposite of "delicious" without sounding critical...but I just laughed instead. Until, that is, some of my students decided it would be a nice thing to give me their canapes as a gift. So then I had to find a way to discreetly dispose of 5 canapes.

The second canapes she had them make featured crackers, cheese, kiwi, bananas, tomatoes, and mayonnaise. Once again, I had kids spewing half-masticated canapuke into the trashcan. And then 5 minutes later, it was lunchtime. But for some reason, I wasn't hungry.

Gotta go to bed and get my 6 hours...perhaps tomorrow holds more potential canape memories. You can bet I'm looking forward to it.