09 October 2011
0 a few words on scraps and jars
burvil is a child of the depression. accordingly, she ascribes very great value to everything she has ever owned.
even the smallest of small things, like fabric scraps. burvil hoards fabric scraps like nobody's business. should there come a time when the safety of the nation depends upon the ability to mass produce insets for a zamillion bow-tie quilts, burvil is going to save the day.
the same goes for glass jars. jam jars, olive jars, jars that claim to have held aunt hazel's corn in 2002, you name it. she's got them all. because glass is a precious commodity. it cannot be thrown away.
(blessedly, the same no longer holds true for plastic. her habit of hoarding "i can't believe it's not butter" tubs has come to an end.)
my family has teased her relentlessly for this. but it's curious, how some habits pass down through the bloodlines as easily as blue eyes and brown hair.
i am burvil's granddaughter. i don't sew but every time i take a pair of scissors to a dress and hack four inches off the hem, the strip of fabric is gently folded and placed in a box of innumerable identical strips.
similarly, every three days when i make the vegetable cassoulet i eat for 12 out of 36 meals a week, i pour the trader joe's extra hot salsa into the stew, rinse the jar and stick it in the cabinet.
it was only this past weekend, when i placed another trader joe's extra hot salsa jar in the cabinet and twenty-two identical jars hailed down on my head, that i realized, much as i love burvil, her habits have got to go.