I arrived at grandmother's house to find strawberries already capped and ready to go. She was also quite a vision. She's 4'10" and slightly round. Her outfit choice was exquisite. She had on a faded Florida T-shirt, pants, a fisherman's hat, and knee-high pantyhose.
Boyfriend greeted me loudly and asked, "Where's your better half?" However, he didn't wait for the answer I fabricated on the spot. He turned, walked away, and returned to the recliner in the living room and watched TV, alternating between a major league baseball game and Ghostbusters. Not long after he settled in, he slumped over. I stopped chopping strawberries long enough to see that his chest was still moving. It was.
The jam-making was productive, and this was the day I broke the news about H to grandmother. She didn't know any of it yet, but it just felt like time to tell her.
Summary of homemade strawberry jam event: *2 cups chopped strawberries + 4 cups sugar = diabetic coma. I'll leave word as to the hospital where you can send me flowers. *finally earned grandmother's trust enough to chop strawberries unsupervised. My work was checked, regardless of the level of supervision, however *grandmother dissatisfied when I was unable to recall from memory my mother's recipe for homemade strawberry preserves [As a reminder to the reader, grandmother and I were making jam, not preserves. Recipe moot at that moment.] *recipe made 6 pints of strawberry jam. Didn't realize I was taking all 6 pints home. I also came perilously close to being in trouble for only bringing 5 1-pint containers. However, my adequate strawberry-chopping skills earned me the opportunity to borrow one of her containers *saw grandmother surreptitiously examine my hands for lawn-mowing injuries. None could be found, thanks to chenille gloves *lunatic uncle came home after being out with parolee friend. Prepared himself a 16-ounce steak at 4:00 p.m. *lunatic uncle fairly subdued. He attributed this to the 8 beers being pretty well out of his system *grandmother gave me a freezer bag with the 5 pounds of strawberries we didn't use. Gave me strict instructions to slice and freeze them that night. No exceptions. She told me that the strawberries had taken two years to grow, and her back was sore from picking them FOR ME. [Note to the reader: I did not ask grandmother to plant strawberries, harvest strawberries, or help me make jam from strawberries.] *after this talk from grandmother, lunatic uncle looked at me and said, "You'd better do it, Boo. You don't freeze them strawberries? That'll make you the anti-Christ."
Summary of grandmother's comments about H, my situation, and life: *her words, exactly: "He did WHAT?!" *"Now why would he quit that good job? That ain't right." *"He don't like that your mama died. I guess his mama's never gonna die, huh?" [I told her that I didn't know what kind of deal his mother had made, but she might not.] *"Is he depressed?" DING DING DING DING!! I didn't mention it, but even she goes there with her thinking! *"Try not to think about it. I know that's hard, but don't. It's wasted time." *"You need to take care of yourself. He can't take care of himself, so he sure can't take care of you. And don't even think about trying to take care of him. Just worry about you." *"I always thought he was strange." *"I bet it's nice sometimes being alone in that house. I sure would like to be alone sometimes. No men around? That sounds pretty good." *"You'll make it. Your mama was a strong woman, and you're a good girl. No matter what happens, you'll make it." *to make me feel better, I received some parting gifts. I left her house with 6 pints of strawberry jam, 5 pounds of strawberries, a 6-foot-tall dogwood tree sapling, 2 carnation seedlings, 2 purple coneflower seedlings, and two yellow flowers that she yanked out of the soil after I said, "Your flowers look nice."
Overall enjoyable day with grandmother, despite minor setback of perhaps becoming the anti-Christ.
