Wednesday
I am practically foaming at the mouth at how excited I am about the Jello salad we made today. As most crafts begin, Maddy and I were overcome with a sense of dread. I’m not sure if it was really dread, but it definitely did not feel positive.
We discussed this feeling as we walked down the stairs, four things on my mind. Eliza and Alienor had provided us with a list, and we knew exactly what to get.
1. A mold
2. Canned fruit
3. Marshmallows
4. Plastic figurines.
As Dollarama was only a short walk away, I soon began scouring the aisles. Marshmallows in one hand, circular cut pineapple in the other, things were going pretty well. Eventually, Maddy and I settled in the toy section to pick our figurines. The good old American I am, I searched and searched for some green army men. Nowhere!! North America these days… all they had were single packaged characters. We looked a bit more, and there it was. A four pack of animal-print cars. It flew off the shelves and into Maddy’s arms, just like in the Magic Finger by Roald Dahl.
Now we were on to the easy part - the mold. This was the initial purpose of our trip as it was clear the Jello deserved a shape just as regal as its contents. Aisle after aisle, my eyes scanned floor to ceiling. Nothing. No molds. The only things they had were mixing bowls which we already own. I became overcome with a gripping sense of nostalgia. Whatever happened to Bundt cakes?
Propping ourselves up against the wall as if to gather some sort of emotional comfort, Maddy and I discussed our options. Whatever would we do?
Deciding to return home, we chose on a small mixing bowl. Jaimie came in as a fresh mind suggesting we use a smaller dish to create a hole in the middle. Just like I had imagined!
Spirits back up, we continued our journey.
Layer one: lime jello with maraschino cherries.
Whenever I think of maraschino cherries I am brought back to the pink honey scandal, but that’s a tale for another time.
Layer two: whipped cherry jello with egg whites and cream (the whip was not happening, which led us to add the cream and egg whites). Troubleshooting did not improve the situation. In this layer, we incorporated marshmallows and canned pineapple. (Yes, the disk shapes. Before you say it, we were impressed too. The perfect Jello ingredient!)
I accidentally got some water in this layer, creating this nice mix of Jello that closely resembled slime with liquid around the edges.
I quickly put it in the fridge, hoping the water would break the laws of science and evaporate away. This, unfortunately, did not happen, as the next time Maddy took it out she commented on the separation, worried that we did something wrong. Charlie had recently returned home; I drew strength from her comforting presence and my Year of Bravery, coming clean about my mishap.
For those of you who don’t know, it takes time for the Jello to set in between layers. Either way, despite our ingenious use of the materials around us (snow from the roof to create an ice bath), the Jello was not ready and the clock was ticking. It was 11PM and it was going to be an early morning. Maddy had class and Jaimie and I had planned to rise and grind.
A part of me wondered it had something to do with Eliza leaving, our muse had gone home.
So, we covered it up and stashed it away in the fridge. Sleep tight!!
24 Hours Later….. Thursday at 8PM
Maddy, Eliza and Ady came back over and we pulled it out of the fridge. I was glad to know Ady was around because she’s told me about her Jello Salad experience (I knew I was in good hands).
It was time for the cars. We began by pouring in the green Jello. I knew from my Jello handbook that marshmallows were floaters, but my eyes still widened in shock. I winced as the marshmallows dislodged from the previous layer and rose to the top. We foraged on, adding in the cars and putting it back in the fridge. Alienor came home and we put on real housewives, our work was done for the night.
Friday
Now it was time. The Jello was in the fridge, and we were all anxiously waiting to see it revealed. The internet told us to run the mold under hot water, so that we did. Alienor drew strength from her time waitressing and stepped up to the task: she turned on the water. We let it warm up for a few seconds and then began to lift the bowl up, unveiling the Jello. It got off to a pretty good start, retaining its shape very nicely.
Then, we got to the middle. Trouble in paradise, let me tell you. Immediately, red juices started leaking out of the edges of the pan. Complete structural failure, the Jello cake collapsed.
Let me set the scene:
Team morale was at an all time low, but we began rooting through and salvaging the bigger pieces. We transferred the chunks we could to another plate and lo and behold - a circle. The cake was reformed. It looked very janky at this point, so we began adding in other smaller pieces of green jello over the cracks.
(Let me be clear, the Jello pieces that remained were those containing the cars. Specifically, they were made of clear Jello which is flavorless. Oops!)
Maraschino cherries and sprinkles went over top, and as I stepped away I marveled at our creation. It was better than I could have dreamed. I knew that the talent show winners were in for something good.
I opened my window and turned off the heat in my room as we put the Jello in there for safekeeping until it was time to give the prize. The act that won was the fight scene from Marriage Story, and much to my surprise the winners did not have anything negative to say about the taste of the clear jello. Maybe they didn’t eat any, if that was the case I would understand. Some things are just to0 beautiful to destroy.
Here is the slam poem Alienor and I performed for all those curious:
Man Has Feelings
Sometimes I look at the ceiling, I look at the ceiling and wish I was looking at your eyes instead, those shimmering balls,
Reflecting the glimmers of a thousand seas seas that were conquered by men such as Colombus and others on boats carved out of natures babies; trees. Trees that make up everything we own, our houses, our beds, my bed, my womb of a bed
Womb of a bed but not my mother’s womb because she abandoned me
Abandoned me like im scared you will abandon me because love nowadays is just money and sex
And sex when I say sex, sex I mean something completely alien from the sacred love that we share,
The touch of heavens small angels taking us both up to the skies, like very light Boeings 747s, their gentle wings brush across my back
“Life rafts are located below your seats” but there are no safety nets when it comes to love
There will be no warnings when we take off…..
Take off? Take off? Take off your clothes, You ask? NO! No, I’m not one of those who looks at women’s bodies ands think of things like that.
The other day —it must have been last Monday, you looked at me, tearing your eyes away from the green bike he shows you….
Green… green. Green board in our classroom, green the color of grass, green and red, colors of Christmas, Christmas, Father Christmas. It reminds me of family, love, happiness.
A happiness That was taken away from me as a child, my mother looking at the clock, her suitcase, and her new lover beside her before she left me sitting alone and cold.
A baby under the Christmas tree, Santa baby under the Christmas tree I hate that song
At only 19 years old, three weeks without your mother’s touch feels like a year, a century, an eternity,
Don’t do to me what my mother did.
They say women are all the same but I don’t believe it I hear but I don’t like it
So listen to me as I beg on my knees like a defeated, yet still powerful, Bill Clinton - I don’t like what I hear
Sometimes I remember when Don told Johnny “you turned out to be a Hollywood finocchio that cries like a woman,” - and GOD, I love the godfather but I disagreed then, and I disagree now; women are powerful.
You are powerful. Full of power like a glass is full of milk; milk that spoils when left out
But I won’t let our love spoil. It takes two to tango but I will dance this one alone.
Don’t you know I got a job for you, don’t you realize, do you even care, do you even know what a Boeing 739 is?
I am thinking about the future and I see you looking at me when you hold his
Strong, muscular, built, veiny arms, I know that he works out I know I ask myself – does he swim, does he bike?
I mean yes, yes, haven’t you seen him in his bright yellow bib shorts?
Aaaaarrrghhhhh I don’t care because I see your eyes, as they watch me and they hope to catch mine like a fox catches a mouse, primal, passionate;
You want me, I want you, but there he is like metal separating two magnets. The other man, you make me the other man.
Be strong, I said women are powerful like goddesses of milk and my middle name means the one who waits waits weight upon my shoulders
The shoulders I thought could brush boeings 3499 but instead, you leave me here to sit in this concord’s cockpit alone.
Profoundly moved