
When I was a kid, there was this mysterious ceramic snoopy thing that sat on the very top shelf of the cupboard, way out of reach for little me. I couldn't see it very well because it was small and the view was of the underside, so I just saw his cute smile. And he was sitting.
Maybe once every five years, my mom would clean have to go through the top shelf of that cupboard for some reason or another. And down Snoopy would come, just for a little bit. Long enough for me to realize it was a jam jar. Why didn't we ever use it? And then he'd go back up to his sitting place where he'd stay out of reach long enough for me to almost forget what his purpose was.
A few weeks ago my mom passed this jar down to me. It's now in my fridge where I use it all the time. Tom knows that my sudden interest in peanut butter and jelly sandwiches is all because of scooping the jam out of that Snoopy jar with the little spoon. He knows that I secretly talk to the Snoopy when I make my sandwich. If the jar were bigger I would probably have my ashes stored in it when I die and get cremated.
Yoshi loves the jar too, but she's not fond of the apricot preserves so she says, "I don't really like the Snoopy Jam. Let's get strawberry next time."
I was so excited to inherit the jar that I IM'ed my brother, "I got the Snoopy Jam Jar!!!!" in a way where I hoped to sound like, "
I won, sucker!" To which he responded, "Yeah, I have one too. Got it off Ebay." Damn. So I asked, "Do you use it?" And he said, "No, it sits in the cupboard."