We talk about all manner of things, most frequently the conversation rolls around to cooking.
I share, he shares.
I am bossy,
so I also suggest.
You may want to make a cabbage strudel,
or perhaps a mushroom,
or something with a bit of farmer cheese and dill...
Recently I lauded Harold and Maude, as I do often, early and often, because I love it so.
He reminded me of the ginger pie and oatsraw tea.
As a teen I often drank oatsraw tea in homage to the film, because I did such things then.
I was very heavy on homage, possibly light on substance, no one will bear witness, though, so the truth will most likely never come out.
I felt unloved and unlovable, as I often do, for no good reason.
Sitting alone in my house, my things stacked to the ceiling, dust a quart inch thick coating absolutely everything.
People had sent flowers, it was my birthday, but not a square inch to set anything down, made me want to throw things, I am not one for disorder.
In the midst of all that disorder, comes a question about ginger pie.
Well since you asked, I would not put a 1/3 cup of chopped ginger into a custard pie.
Not on a bet.
It will spoil the texture for sure.
Over the course of a day, and then an evening, I find myself talked down over a custard.
Over a silly pie, and the love of a beautiful film.
I feel less guilty over the flowers and a lack of place to set them down.
I think of the scene in the cemetery, where Maude shows Harold the daisy, and when the camera pans out it reveals thousands of them surrounding graves.
There is nothing profound here. In reality I am not particularly stressed or bothered by the remodel, I was stressed and bothered by the notion of not being able to be properly appreciative of flowers, sent to me, with the best intentions.
I felt mildly guilty for not being able to type properly on my phone, to reply thoughtfully to my friend's question about the pie.
I wonder why any of that makes me nervous, none of it really matters.
I love the film, because it has such a strong message of redemption and love, which I am not truely able to embrace in myself.