This afternoon I go to the mailbox and lo and behold, there is a well-wrapped box from Texas with two pint jars of whole fig preserves inside.

Like a kid at Christmas, I tore into the package with great anticipation.

And then–discovered that Santa did not bring me the ball glove I wanted so badly.  I was distraught as I tasted the first one.  It missed the mark by a long way.  The figs are the biggest I have ever seen.  Like the size of golf balls.  But lot more just mush that sweetness.  Of course I did not have any of mama’s biscuits to shove one into, so I plumped two of them down on a piece of bread, folded the bread over the figs and chomped down.

The results were the same.  Bland.  Little taste at all.  And I spent $20 for two jars and shipping.

My ball glove became a pair of pajamas.

However, ever the optimist when it comes to food, back to the internet I went.  Four more jars are now on the way.  Two from Columbiana, AL and two from South Carolina.

That’s another $50.  But this time it is do or die.  Either I find a supplier of figs I’m looking for–or I’m off to Dairy Queen for a banana split.