I made pear preserves. Yes, that is lemon in it. I use lemon so the pears don't discolor, but I like a lot of lemon. So, in addition to the lemon I squeeze on the sliced pears so they don't turn dark, I slice a lemon and cook it with the pears for an extra zing and because I think it is pretty against the glass. This is only the first batch. I should have more pears next week. Again, I always get a true feel good moment when I see jars lined up on the cabinet or when I look over at my pie safe and see all the jars in there. Productivity feels good.
Yesterday was busy. My mother hosted a wedding shower and I helped out by making crostini and artichoke dip for 100. Princess wanted to attend and help with the punch and presents. I got her dressed and I got dressed myself in case anyone saw me. I got the food and child to my mother's before 3, which was the starting time of the shower. When we arrived there were already 20 or more people there. My sister, who came to help with the flowers, was trapped in the guest wing without the things she needed to make herself presentable. She was shocked because everyone showed up so early. I wasn't (the reason I dressed) because I did the invitations and I knew that there were, at least, 15 hostesses. I thought it was absurd, but so this town. Everyone wants to help. No one wants the event at their house, but everyone wants to do something. Anyway, once I helped my sister get what she needed to dress and snitched a petit four, I sneaked out.
A couple of hours later, we all went to the funeral home to pay our respects to the family of the librarian. Most of the people at the shower were also at the funeral home. The librarian had six children, though only one still lives in town. All were there with their spouses and children. Most of the town attended, as well. We had to wait in line for about 45 minutes to see the family. I felt so sad and still do. I find myself crying at the least little thing. So many of those truly special older people in this town have died, lately. I can't help feeling a tremendous sense of loss.