I have almost 200 pounds of black walnuts, some riding shotgun in my car and some weighing down the trunk.
Problem is, I don't know what to do with them.
How I came to acquire so many was a bad communication gap.
Sometime around Thanksgiving, Tom called to say he and future son-in-law Brett were raking leaves and had a difficult time because of all the %^$#! black walnuts.
"Black walnuts!" I exclaimed. "I would love to have some for baking. Save me some and when I come up Christmas, I'll get them."
Now for those of you who don't know, black walnuts are a delicacy, an expensive delicacy. My grandparents had a tree and every year we harvested and dried them for year-long enjoyment. The thought of actually having some again delighted me.
As I was leaving friend Denise's Wednesday, Tom reminded me that he had walnuts for me.
Imagine my surprise as he started moving three humongous bags from his vehicle and wedging them into my already-stuffed compact car.
"I don't need this many," I told him. "Just a few for Claude, Jeff and me."
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