"The Dreams Stuff is Made Of"...

Where else but on Grumbles and Grins can one find men and women of integrity? Oh, I know... there are a few blogs which might be as graced as GAG. But I lay claim to a monopoly of the coolest of all 'followers' and visitors.

In my last post, I apologized for starting a contest, and then--for completely forgetting about it. It is the mark of a terrible hostess, for sure. I pronounced my friend Crookedpaw the winner--the choice being easy, as the bloke was the only entrant. I promised to mail his prize; consisting of a quart of Maine maple syrup and an autographed copy of Grumble Bluff, post haste. (Punny, huh? "Post" haste. "Mail". Get it?)

Oh, brother. Never mind...

So, that was yesterday. TODAY, I arrived home to find this:

That's right. The quart of maple syrup which I've had for a month--a month during which no one felt the need to touch it--had been opened, and sampled. Used. Poured over French Toast and bacon.

It's not like there were no other options. There were two already-opened plastic containers of syrup in the fridge. One from sap boiled down in neighboring Embden, and one from the maple trees of Strong, a town approximately 40 minutes away. It was local syrup, yes. But it was syrup which was sold commercially. I'd wanted to gift my friend with the product of our own trees, right here in Lexington Township. I wanted to give him some 'marple sarple' made--not to sell--but to be enjoyed by our family and friends.

So, I was grouchy. Slightly grouchy, but in a loudish kind of way.

"Great!" I said to no-one in particular, and everyone within earshot. "Now I've gotta go hit up Cousin Jimmy for another quart!"

Less than ten minutes later, I came upstairs and sat at my computer. I opened my email account. And, lo and behold, there was a note from my pal Crookedpaw, telling me that he couldn't accept the prize. That to do so wouldn't 'sit comfortably' with him. That I should SAVE THE SYRUP (now known as an impossibility) until he wins the next contest fairly and squarely.

Or something like that.

:o)

I lucked out. I've been let off the hook. I won't have to go down the road to Cousin Jimmy's, hat in hand, and ask for more syrup. I won't have to endure another quarantine of my packages as Aussie Customs tries to determine if the jar contains whiskey or some other type of contraband. Heh...

CP, you're a prince. You DID deserve the prize, but I'll graciously say 'thank you' and keep (what remains of) my syrup here in Maine.

For the time being, anyway.

Thanks, sport.