They’ve Got My Number

It was pie-eating time. My cousin and I connected on the phone and decided when she would come over. She’d give me time to take a shower. Not long after we hung up, the Computer Owner called. We talked for a little while, hung up, then my sister called to let me know she is still in Tennessee. She knows I’m not a phone person so we didn’t talk long. It isn’t that I hate phones so much. Some people are hard to understand and email is easy for me to read.

It was getting close to the hour being over. I put my dirty clothes back on. I have an aversion to putting clean clothes on a dirty body. My cousin would just have to cope with the smell—and the look. My hair had a bad case of Bed Head and no matter how much I wet it and tried to do something with it, nothing helped.

When I was reaching for the phone to tell her to come on over, the doorbell rang. I had part of a banana in my hand (I thought I should probably have some good nutrition along with the junk). I offered her a banana but she passed. I had the pie in the oven warming up.

The pieces were ragged. I don’t have a good pie server but it was all going to get et, anyway. I offered her some coconut ice cream but she didn’t want any of that, either. We sat down, I had the blessing (she waited for me to do it) and we visited while we ate.

After we finished, I loaded a throw-away container with pie for my CIL. She left and I set about cleaning up. The dishwasher was still washing. I’d set it to “Steam Sanitize” because I’d loaded the containers for freezer jam. I know I had to have dreamed it but, just plain as day, I’d seen an almost full box of jelly jars in the room I use for storage. When I went in there first thing this morning, there was nothing remotely like that. Not to worry. I found 11 jars and figured I could use freezer containers if I used all of them and had jam left over.

The phone rang (again). That made the fourth time. I recognized the number as being the house phone where DD and merm live. I gave a cheery “hello!” and was met with silence. I said, “HELLO!” again and this time there was a voice on the other end but it wasn’t DD. It was merm! What a nice surprise! But she was the one who was surprised. She thought she was calling a doctor’s office. I said, “This is Dr. B. May I help you?” Seems a doctor’s office had called and left voice mail to let “Matthew” know that his throat culture was okay. She was trying to call to let them know they had the wrong number. Our area codes are very similar and she’d picked my number. No matter, we had a short visit. I told her I’d just eaten pie with my cousin. “PIE?? You ate PIE??” Well, yes. Was that okay? She said she remembered a woman who had lectured her on the evils of cooked food (I don’t recall that). Not being able to defend myself, I just said oh, well. I’ve backslidden.

I hadn’t yet started on the jam when DD called (number five). She filled me in on more of the Valentine’s Day celebration. That Boy had cooked for her, too! He’d made vegan fondue. I asked about the flowers and she said she hasn’t read any of the messages because she’d have to destroy the flowers to do that. He’d given her a note with all the things listed, anyway. We talked for less than a half hour when I told her I really did need to get the jam made.

Half of the berries seemed about right so I put them in the sink and washed them. There was a lot of white so it wasn’t a matter of just capping them. I had to cut a good third off most of them to get down to the red. I got all of them ready and in a bowl. Getting the potato masher out, I went to work. Well, I tried. Next to nothing happened. The berries were too hard to mash.

Cutting them up was taking too long so I got my handy-dandy little Pampered Chef chopper out. The keyword here is “little”. I put a few berries in a bowl and chopped. That didn’t do much, either. I’d have to slice them first. I’d slice a few, then chop, slice a few, then chop. It took forever to get five cups ready.

Most of my organic evaporated cane juice was in a plastic bag behind some things in the cabinet. I climbed up, moved stuff and got it out. Transferring it from the bag to the jar I keep it in made quite a mess.

I got everything mixed up and waited for it to gel. I’m still waiting. I poured it into jars and put the lids on. It’s more like strawberry syrup. That one batch just about did me in. I was through. It’s pretty, anyway.

Freezer "jam"

Loading the jars into a box, I took it out to the freezer. When I came out, my cousin was standing there. I told her there was no way I could use the rest of the berries. She said to bring them over. I came back to the house and poured half of the partial jar of “jam” into a container and took it with the half flat and put it in their kitchen. That’s when I discovered they’d kept only half a flat for themselves. She thought I’d put them in smoothies. I had to admit I hadn’t had a smoothie in a while. When I do make them, I rarely to never put strawberries in them.

Coming back home, I sat down. I didn’t bother to clean up the mess. I was pooped. My back was hurting and my legs felt like jelly. Twinkle had a lap to sit on for a couple of hours.

Feeling rested, I got up and loaded the dishwasher (thank the Lord for my dishwasher!) I’d unloaded while I was talking to DD. I fixed some supper and here I am.


I should have kept quiet about Genese. She lowered the boom today. We were rocking along on the Groundhog Day board with neither one of us doing a whole lot. Today, she played “VOYEURS” for a score of 746,844. My measly 66,250 for “MUIST” is the best I could do but it’s a drop in the bucket. I think she has this one in the bag.

2 Responses to They’ve Got My Number

  1. Mary Jane February 18, 2014 at 11:52 am #

    Sorry about the problems with the jam. It does look beautiful and reminds me of how Mother used to make it. Maybe you can use it as strawberry syrup on your coconut ice cream!

    • Tommie February 18, 2014 at 12:14 pm #

      It’s super sweet. I think the organic evaporated cane juice is sweeter than regular sugar. I’ll put it on something not sweet, probably.

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