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 I am sure
that after I am gone, they are going to find something peculiar in
my brain. (If they find anything in there at all…) It’s a special spot
that compels one to make jam, and maybe they will name it after me. For
the last couple of weeks, I’ve been on a jam-making binge. We’re in the
final weeks of strawberries here and I happened to find some plums at a
market outside of Paris, and surprised the vendor by buying almost all
that he had in stock. Consequently, I haven’t been able to get that
much else done around here. But on the other hand, I have a dozen or so
jars of jam to show for my diligence.
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