Friday, July 28, 2017

Ch 7 I don’t want to give homemade jam to Doris because I am a bitch – there is no way to sugar-coat it

I have a pear tree in my back yard that produces abundantly. I hate to waste food and there are only so many pear pies[1] a person can make so I take a canning class, buy canning jars and equipment from a downsizing couple I found on Craigslist, and spend hours and hours putting up dozens of jars of pear compote/preserves/jam.

There are also only so many jars of pear preserves a person can eat[2], so I have been giving jam friends. To people I like. To people who are worthy. Canning is hot, sweaty, tedious work and I do not give my labor lightly.

Me: Make sure to pack these jars of jam.

Primo: For who?[3]

Me: For Stephanie and for her dad.

Primo: Are you going to take some for my mom?

Me: Noooooo.

Primo: Why not?

Me: Because it's all designated already?

Primo: For who?

Me: My sister. My brother. My mom. My aunts and uncles. Other people.

Primo: Why not my mom?

Me: Because.

Primo: My mom likes jam. You gave me jam to take to ex-wife's mom when I went to California for work last month and you've never even met her.

Me: Well I thought you should take her something and she sounds like such a nice lady.

Primo: I could have taken her some pecans.

Me: Pecans aren't special. Homemade jam is special.

Primo: My mom doesn't deserve something special?

Me: We're paying $500 to fly there and we are renting a car and you are spending your vacation days cleaning out their garage and fridge and cat box. That’s special enough.

Primo: I'm just messing with you.

[1] It’s actually a lot of pear pies. You can eat a pie a week, easily. And then switch to pear crisp when you are bored with pie. Except who gets bored with pie? Not me. I make awesomely good pie. And I don’t peel the fruit.
[2] Not that many. Pie is easier to eat than preserves.
[3] Primo knows proper grammar, but most people don’t say “whom,” even when it is the right word.

1 comment:

  1. I would say that's kinda mean, then I remember that they would hate the jam and and whine and moan to Primo all about the jam. Then you would have even more reason to not like them. Leave well enough alone.