It’s the little details of Christmas that weigh me down

Like the fact that every person we have even shared the same air space with suddenly occupies a space on my “To Give To” list. I know there are no rules to this, but it seems like a nice thing to do and so then I do. But really I don’t, at least not always. For example, this past summer I made jam, like a million jars of all organic jam made from locally grown fruits that I picked myself and I pitted or de-seeded or skinned or whatevered myself. So now we have shelves of this jam just sitting and sitting because. really, how much jam can a person possibly consume without being ridiculous. After Thanksgiving I made a list of worthy jam eaters and kept adding to it until it was out of hand long, then I bagged up the jars in cutesy holiday bags and then last weekend Devon, Cassidy and I started to go a-calling for deliveries. But the thing with Devon is that a call takes a minimum of 20 minutes and his attention span is only about four minutes. A bit of problem.
What this all means is that I have boxes of bagged jams sitting in our entry way. Most of the names on the list remain unchecked. And next summer when I need some raspberry preserves for my bagel? I sure as hell won’t look in the pantry, I’ll be opening a sparkly Christmas bag tucked away in the corner of the mudroom and pawing through them all until I find the right flavor.