Hot Diggidy Damn Lets MAKE SOME JAM!!

Hot Diggidy Damn Lets MAKE SOME JAM!!

• The following story suffers greatly from over exaggeration and may offend some who are not used to the embellishment of my story telling. In which case, what are you doing reading my blog?!!

So what happens when you have no friends, no cell phone, and no regular Internet access and you are in the Middle East? You make Jam obviously. It all started out innocent enough when my mom came in to my bedroom (while I was laid to ruin due to the incapacitating illness that has inflicted me…some think that I have a rare form of quarter life disillusionment-itis that has manifested itself into the ugliness that is seen today) and she inquired if I would like to tag along to the country side, escape the city and get some fresh air. After what seemed to be an eternity of struggling with my mucus infested cavities I finally agreed, it was all too reminiscent of Tuberculosis patients back in the good old days. And so we set off to my sister’s in law’s farm.

I proceeded with caution to this farm of imaginary happiness which would somehow miraculously cure me, for if any of you have parents you know that ANYTHING that has the power to “cure” you must be seen with at the very least a suspicious eye. At first I am not gonna lie it was amazing, the wind, the fresh air, the trees weighed down by the most tempting of fruits, being in such a state of medicated elation it didn’t require much convincing to do some “ light” farm work.

Mom: “Fadi…Habiby…why don’t you come and help us pick some grapes? You remember how much you used to love picking things? You know you will enjoy yourself. (and of course) come on it will make you feel better…I promise…

Fadi: “fine, I suppose picking some grapes wouldn’t do me any harm…and the weather is pretty nice”

I should have known that all happiness would come to a near end when I started to enjoy myself. And so what started off as a good time would soon elapse into excruciating hours of backbreaking labor in the heat of the unforgiving Jordanian sun.

After about 48 hrs (which were actually 2 maybe 3) of picking grapes we finally went home, which was practically a Gift from God as far as I was concerned I immediately began to run to my bedroom in hopes of finding my "bed" (two matresses on the floor, we havent furnished yet) awaiting my embrace. But before i could throw myself into my lovers arms my mother called out to me...

"where do you think you are gowing? we still have to sort out the grapes, deseed them one by one and then wash them. Don't you want to eat grape jelly?"

"Mom if i wanted grape jelly i would do what i always do...look for the welches sqeezable bottle"

But alas, that only hastened her wrath. She came flying towards me with unnatural speed with a tray full of a mountian of grapes. Resigned i began to sort...

It seemed to me the more sorted the more there were...it was like a cornicopia of grapes...after honest to god what seemed like 12 hrs of grape sorting my mother trued to reel both my sister and myself into deseeding them...but we finally won her over convincing her that when seeded grapes boil and wilt the seeds naturally begin to rise to the surface...and so that was my unneseccarily long story about my oh so boring days here...

But you wanna know what makes all of this even mor unfair? Being in the middle east surrounded by mounds of delicious food that you haven’t seen in three years and eating it without a sense of taste…I mean that is irony at its worst…you know exactly what its supposed to taste like…only you cant taste it, what’s even worse is confronting your FAVORITE foods and having little to no desire to consume all of it without feel any regret of not sharing!