Harry and David Can Kiss My . . . Pears

I used to be a big fan of Harry and David. You know, the ridiculously overpriced fruity (ha!) company that sells six pears for $30. I am especially fascinated by the overly large gift baskets with about a hundred individual items for $299. I've secretly always wanted one of those. So if you can't think of a good use for your economic stimulus check, feel free to send me some fruit.

(Is it even possible for me to write a post that doesn't include numerous tangents? No, and you should know that at this point in our relationship. If you don't know me by now, you will never, never, never, never know me . . . who's singing along right now? )

(And now, back to our regularly scheduled point.)

I used to like to send Harry and David gifts to people, because everyone likes food. And apparently, I had forty bucks to spend on some apples before moving here, where all my money goes towards spackle. But then I landed at Blackrock and a whole new world of gift options opened up to me when I started canning my own food. Because you have no idea how excited people get by homemade jam, despite the fact that with a few pounds of strawberries and a packet of pectin, a trained monkey could make it. Clearly, there aren't enough monkeys trained in this skill, because homemade jam is just about the most well-received gift I have ever given my family.

So when my brother and his wife gave birth (well, I think we know who actually gave birth there), I decided to send them food. And so much has my life changed that I never even considered Harry and David, but rather descended into the Pit of Despair and put together my own gift basket. What I found down there and packaged up none-too-neatly were jars of raspberry jam, spiced pears, and salsa. I made the jam and salsa, and the MiL made the pears. They are not meant to be eaten together. Just so you know.

My brother doesn't usually read this blog, but if he is . . . Hi, bro! You'll be getting some food shortly if the jars don't all crack in transit!

And P.S. Infants don't dig jalapenos, so don't feed the salsa to the baby, okay?