Behold the humble peanut butter sandwich.
I love sandwiches. I love grilled cheese sandwiches. I love ham sandwiches. I love BLTs. I even love the sixty zillion breakfast sandwiches I ate at my last job. I am an equal-opportunity sandwich lover.
Alas, if I had to pick a favourite sandwich, it would be the peanut butter sandwich. Crunchy peanut butter on whole wheat or multigrain bread. Not toasted. No jam or jelly. No banana. The only thing I like with it is a glass of milk.
When I was in high school, I had to bring my lunch to school. I had the same thing almost every day; a peanut butter sandwich, a granola bar, and an apple juice. My mom would make it for me (these were the days before I could cook), and she always offered to make something else. Why bother? To me, that lunch was perfection! (That said, sometimes, Mom would make me an egg salad sandwich, which was almost as delicious. She makes the best egg salad).
I've been out of school and on my own for a long time. I can make my own sandwiches, and they taste pretty good. I still love the peanut butter sandwich; in fact, I just ate one. Sure, it took a little while to eat it, thanks to my little drama queen toof, but it was still delicious. And, yes, my mom still makes me the odd sandwich. When I moved down to Sydney earlier this year, my mom packed lunches for me, my dad, and my uncle. We tore into them once we had the truck packed up. We were so hungry and those sandwiches tasted SO GOOD that I'm sure any of us would have caused serious damage to anyone foolish enough to stand in our way of said sandwiches.
I hope she packs a lunch for me next week...
dinner ditty ~ What Ever Happened - The Strokes
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