PB&Js

Quite possibly one of the best things ever invented...ever. Thick whole grain bread, the aroma of roasted peanuts, and some fine preserves. The holy trinity of culinary genius. Perfect with a tall glass of milk; for any meal of the day. And don't even come in here with your sissy creamy peanut butter...true gastronomic pleasure isn't for the weak.

Sadly, Irene just doesn't get it. It's the whole foreigner thing.

Working from home affords me some benefits. In the afternoon when I take a quick break for lunch and lay out my preparations, I can often feel the glare piercing my skull. She argues that there's perfectly good leftovers from a meal she slaved over the night before sitting right there in the fridge. As if one would only choose to eat a PB&J when there was literally nothing left to eat. I honestly love my wife's cooking, but like a true crack junky...sometimes I just gotta get a hit.

Thankfully I've been able to affect the next generation. Kohl and Nana love it when they catch me sneaking my fix. Sometimes it'll turn into a true PB&J binge that can last an hour. It's amazing what their little bellies can put away, the guilty pleasure of it all adding to the excitement. Nana likes hers cut in triangles so she can eat it from the middle out to the edges. This always leaves behind the tell tale sign of good eats. I think this particular occasion Irene had gone early to help Kohl's class with a holiday art project. The true breakfast of champions.


Belly full-a- jelly. ;)