No I’m not going to starve to death, those are the words of a spoiled old guy, much as my oldest daughter told me years ago.
“Dad!” She called “We’re gonna starve to death the toaster oven quit working.”
“I’ll buy a new one today.” I answered.
“Yeh, but what will we do until then?” she answered
“Make a sandwich.”
“Raw?” She answered
What she was talking about I never did figure out, this is the same person who as a teenager would melt cheddar chess in a coffee cup, dipping things into it like fondue until it set up. Set up it did, the only remedy is disposal of the cup, the cheese becomes one with it. Sometimes she would leave the spoon in it, that was like the sword in the stone. I told her “whomever is able to remove this spoon from this rock will attain the status of Royalty. The line to do so was not forming so the entire kit and kaboodle got sent to department 13.
The empty Peanut butter jar remains in the pantry, I removed it this morning, removing the lid just to be certain there was not one bit left. There wasn’t enough for even a child cheater (rubber spatula) they are ineffective on the sides of the wasteland only identified with the words “Adams all natural Peanut Butter.” on the exterior. I had to settle for Boysenberry jam, by “Smuckers” (seeing as how I’m using brand names). I made toast from something called “Potato Bread” smeared with butter and topped as if it were frosting with the jam. Extremely good jam I may add.
I suggested to Mrs. Lebec that perhaps I should set up an account online to have some delivered once a month, just to you know be safe. I compared it to how I set up the Coffee deliveries of two pounds monthly (it is being shipped tomorrow) and how life saving that is. The enthusiasm in her voice was actually quite under-whelming, “yeh, whatever”, was her reply. I dove in with both feet and got right on it.
“Here’s ten pounds for 50 bucks, $5.00 a pound, wow good deal.” I remarked.
“You get to stir it.” was the reply, then added “I get the smallest jar for around $5, if they are real big the stuff sets like cement in the bottom.” she said with no emotion.
“OK, here’s a one pounder for $15.”
“Too expensive” was her explosive reply “how much for the 8 ouncer?”
“$10 plus $5.95 shipping, $15.95, the 10 pounds is the best deal and it includes shipping.” then I added “if it sets up we can just add a little bit of oil it’ll come right back to life. There are stirrers that fit in a cordless drill but it looks like a two man operation, either that or we need to install a vise in the kitchen to hold it.”
Unimpressed she replied “Keep looking, I’m going out to do some weeding, then Dawn and I are going to have wine while social distancing at 4:00.”
We have another jar of a different brand which is not “natural” meaning it is loaded with Hydrogenated oil, that stuff should be banned. It won’t happen now during quarantine especially seeing as how one political party is debating the merits of sacrificing us old people to the altar of Wall Street with the intent to save someones chances at a second term. Yeh I want to be remembered as a martyr for him, that cross over there will suffice, count me out.
Continuing, that jar of Peanut Butter is the one I use on my mouse “trap-line”, after the initial 14 rapid snaps it has slowed way down to about one a month, so there the Peanut Butter sits on the shelf.
“Don’t eat that other jar either” she shouted from the stairwell “remember you dipped the knife back in after smearing it on the trap, I sent the knife to department 13 as well. Again don’t eat that stuff it will kill you.” then she added “one more thing, that water bottle on the counter is not water it’s cleaning solution, don’t drink it either.”
“Why don’t you put a label on it?”
“It’s just you and me if figured I would just tell you and you won’t drink it.”
“Yeh, nice.” I replied.
I reminds me of when she asked me if it ever felt like someone had a voodoo doll in my image and was sticking needles in it. To which I answered “No.”
“How about now?” she answered. I don’t have to worry I don’t think she practices Voodoo, but if she did I’m fairly confident I would most likely not be the subject. Someone would surely miss me after not too awfully long, of that I am fairly certain. The question “What ever became of Dad?” would sooner or later be asked by someone, most likely around Christmas time when the tags all read “from Grandma.”
My oldest son told me a few years ago “Walmart has everything Dad.” Yes they do, a 16 oz jar of Adams chunky $3.42.
“OK, I’ll ask Dawn to pick some up next time she’s out.” Mrs. Lebec answered. to which I countered “Today?”
I wrote this knowing a lot of people are in a bad situation right now, both me and Mrs. Lebec are overloaded with compassion for them. Not one of our kids or Grand-kids are working now and I’m happy to be in a position where we are able to offer some help. Not just to them but others as well. My piddly little narrative about Peanut Butter means nothing in the scheme of things, but when we get down to that can of Stag’s Chili lurking on the Pantry shelf you will hear some real whining; after all a guy can only take so much. Have you ever had Stag’s Chili? It’s pretty good tasting but be forewarned the results create a plethora of Noble Gases. Luckily after the air hits the open can it takes an hour for the can to simply evaporate.
Jacques Lebec Natural Self Reliance