Back in April, after I built a pantry for the Fairfield, I mini-splurged on half scale jars of Skippy peanut butter and Welch’s grape jelly. I usually don’t buy foodstuffs because with a scanner and a color printer, they’re easy to make, but these came in cute little jars, and I was excited about the pantry, and hey, I felt like splurging.
In case you’re having trouble visualizing, these things are tiny!
When I got them home, I unwrapped the peanut butter first and carefully eased the tiny jar onto the tiny shelf. Then I unwrapped the jelly, which went flying from my hands and tap-tap-tapped onto the floor. I followed the noise and got down on my hands and knees to find it. My parents used to call me “eagle-eye Emily” because I was really good at finding things—my ultimate triumph was
a clear contact lens on a cluttered floor the diamond that fell out of my mother’s engagement ring, when I was just a wee lass—but not this time. My mini jelly was gone. I tried to buy another jar but the store didn’t have any more. The Skippy jar sat all alone in the otherwise barren pantry. So sad.
And then! Yesterday, after four months of jelly deprivation, Geoff comes up from the garage with something tiny in his hand: “I think I found something that belongs to you.” My mini jelly! He spotted it on the floor in front of the dryer. Whether it bounced out the door of my workshop when it fell and has been there all along or it hitched a ride on the bottom of a shoe, I’ll never know. In any case, I’m happy to finally be able to add the tiny jar to my pantry.
This may seem like a really weird thing to be excited about, but I bet there’s at least one other miniaturist out there who knows the feeling…