Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Necro-Squared Motherfuckers

ETA: Sold out!

Click thumbnail for larger image.

It's been a helluva couple of days at Casa dels Ossos (House of Bones). After a six week sabbatical my father-in-law returned home from Florida and immediately began fucking with shit. Within 12 hours of stepping off the goddamn plane the motherfucker managed to mess with some of my altar work, single-handedly compromised the controlled environment we keep the mushrooms in, nearly lost our ticket-receipt for our Christmas goose and immediately returned to "hiding" potentially gluten-contaminated dishes, cooking utensils and cutlery.

(The long-short? Wheat and gluten are intestine-destroying poisons that cause Italics's body to attack itself. Any trace of either - whether stuck on metal filaments of toasters, or dusted across used plates and dishes - is enough to make him seriously sick. Despite knowing how severe his symptoms are his parents never seem to clean up after themselves (I tried getting them aboard on the gluten-free express to make our kitchen more safe, but they won't buy into it), so I'm constantly sanitizing the kitchen because they don't even sweep their food crumbs off the fucking counters.)

(Our #1 gluten-free problem? Mr. Awesome, my father-in-law, doesn't normally use detergent when washing dishes by hand. (Yes, we DO have a dishwasher, and no, I don't know why he refuses to use it.) Which, obviously, is pretty fucking problematic when you have one person with a crazy-serious medical condition triggered by a food group that 1/2 the house indulges in. Worse yet, he's begun "hiding" the unwashed dishes amongst the properly cleaned ones so he doesn't get caught out. To ensure Italics doesn't get sick I actually have to clean every fucking plate, fork, pot and cup before using it because I don't know if it's safe.)

But wait! There's more! (<- Almost all of Ms. Dirty's dealings come with an extra helping of WHAT THE FLYING FUCK and/or ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?.)

In addition to my father-in-law returning home and completely destroying the rhythm of the house, we were forced to give away our Tori Amos tickets because we just couldn't afford the travel cost (our two concert tickets were equal to the cost of a single one-way train ride), I'm so fucking far behind with shit that I have no idea how I'm going to finish up all of my promises, obligations and duties (everything from working on packages for people to making our Last Harvest offerings at various cairns, standing stones and graveyards) before the holiday season hits, let alone hold a motherfucking Harvest sale at the end of this fucking month and - LOL! YES, THERE'S MORE! - yesterday we learned that I might've potentially lost everything I had on my fried computer because, for whatever divinely comical reason, my files didn't transfer properly to our external drive.

(As in, every-motherfucking-thing; my entire effin' life to this effin' point. Projects, notes, my baby pictures, all of our pet photos, recipes I've created from scratch, unseen homemade porn I made for "Santa Claus" and years worth of fucking work (I mean, like, actual career work-work). Everything I ever saved, created, scanned or noted in my 31 years of life was on that fucking computer.)

So things have been a bit...intense...here recently, and because of that some of my goals for this week (i.e., write some VIP emails, finish a few projects and sell all 11 jars of Papa's rum-infused plum sauce) got unexpectedly jostled around. One minor luxury of working for yourself, though, is having the ability to take a step back for a day or two to get your mind correct. After a long ass crying session - and a good night's sleep - I'm feeling a lot fucking better about everything*, and I'm totally ready to hustle some motherfucking sauce.

(* Although I'd really like my computer shit back, Universe. Christmas - you know, the season of peace'n'love'n'good-effin'-will to all (especially those who've worked REALLY FUCKING HARD this year despite those pesky motherfucking rabbits) - is just around the corner, and I know you don't wanna disappoint Santa's favourite reindeer.)

Click thumbnail for larger image.

If you've been rubbernecking my foul-mouthed adventures on Facebook, you'll know that we harvested 24 effin' pounds of plums from our two backyard trees back in September. A third of the crop was used to make my winterspiced plum liqueur (it's the holy amongst holies in my hedgerow hooch collection), another third was was used to create a rum-based libation for Papa (my attempt to make a ritual His'n'Her set) and the last third was deliberately scattered throughout the countryside to return a portion of the fruit back to the earth.

It'd be utterly retarded to just throw out the rum-preserved plums, and since there's no way I'm going to eat eight fucking pounds of hoochtastic sauce in two weeks I thought I'd offer a wee taste of Harvest goodness to you guys. This necro-culinary delight (necro squared; in addition to being a by-product of a psychopomp-themed libation, half the fruit was harvested from the plum tree growing over my roadkill altar) is a simple puree made from only three ingredients: fairtrade sugar, dark rum and death-enriched homegrown plums.

Before you whip out your wallet to make it rain you need to know one thing: I can't send this shit internationally. It's not that I don't want to; I'm just really worried about the lids of these jars. I saved, sterilized and reused a bunch of baby jars not knowing that the tops wouldn't seal again. These fuckers should travel a-okay within Europe, but I doubt they'd survive longer transits. I feel so effin' bad about fucking this up that I've already promised you non-EU folk the ability to pick my next super-special Harvest project in the hopes you'll forgive my sorry ass. (<- Mushroom ketchup made with my Wild Woodland Mix seems to be winning.)

And now for the nitty-fucking-gritty:

* There are exactly 11 undecorated jars; once they're gone, they're effin' gone.
* Jars are £1.50 GBP each; you can buy as many as you like.
* There's approximately 128g worth of sauce in every jar; jars roughly weigh 221g once filled.
* Postage costs are determined by number of jars being sent; sending one jar within the UK is roughly £2.50, sending one jar within the EU is roughly £3.00.

If you're interested in snagging a jar - or two, or six (ahem) - all you've gotta do is send an email to graveyarddirt@gmail.com with the following information: your paypal address, how many jars you want and what country the jars are getting sent to (it makes figuring out postage a helluva lot easier). First-come, first-served and, like I said above, once these necro-squared motherfuckers are gone, they're gone.