I was not myself this morning. Who I was is as yet unclear to me but, what is sure, is that the person in question had a pioneering palate. Pioneering, as an adjective, may seem romantic and exciting to some of you. To me, it resonates with foolhardiness. Why go where no man has gone before: no man must have had a fucking good reason for not going there in the first place. So it was with Coulommiers and grape jelly. The half awake, early morning, unreasoning pioneer, that resided in me this morning, thought that it would be a good idea to try a combination of those two violently opposing ingredients as a light collation: pioneers wear cats on their heads with the tail hanging down their back which tells you all you need to know about pioneers; avoid men with cats on their heads who recommend eating cheese and jam. My excuse, outside of temporary insanity, was guilt over a jar of grape jelly that was sitting in our fridge. I had been warned, by the kind person who gave me the grape jelly, that wrath of the same fruit would fall on my head, which would make a terrible mess of my cat hat, if that jar was found, unopened, in my fridge several months hence. Well, it’s opened.
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