Andrea brought us dinner last month as a part of Feed the Framily '08. She brought us 23 Hoyt food because she has certain connections and she loves us (if Paul and I ever leave the house alone again, we are heading straight there for a fancy dinner). She also brought Sam some bread and jam because she knows him well.
What Sam doesn't know is that I switched the jar she brought with some from my vastly inferior freezer stash. You can't blame me because she brought strawberry Bonne Maman. I ate it all by myself.
Apparently, I've been going on and on about the jam and my deep affection for jam of all kinds (except for marmalade, which I realize is very un-Commonwealth like behavior) and because she is a good friend and (probably) wanted to shut me up, Eggplant had a box of it delivered to my house. A whole freaking box.
When I was in college a friend of mine had asked if I wanted anything to eat from the corner store. I requested some kind of fruit, and finding nothing good he brought me back a giant pickle from the jar next to the register. How could I not be in love with him?
I feel like all of these stories are related.