Let's gently ease into the first full work week of the new year, not that I'm joining you in that endeavor. I am waiting until Wednesday and that's only because I'm not allowed to wait until Thursday. My wife who has had the pleasure of my company on a non-stop basis since December 12th is looking forward to our house again being her Fortress of Solitude.
But I digress, unless you have an appetite for adventure; as opposed to the appetite that Jerome Davis possesses or, according to this news report, possessed along with a pair of folding knives because crusts can often be difficult to remove from the bread.
I was thinking about my evil twin, Skippy, and of Jif, who is Evert's evil twin (he penned the well-known toe-tapper, There's No Place like Nome for the Holidays) while reading about The Miscreant Who Is Jerome (it looks more sinister when capitalized, doesn't it?). And working on quite a hunger, if I were to be honest with you.
I'm inordinately fond of grilled cheese and peanut butter sandwiches so much so that while I were eating one, I'd be grateful if you'd be preparing another one for 'while I'm underway' and then not get too annoyed when I unwrapped it and ate it in front of you.
American Cheese is fine and while toasted rye would be practically a slice (or two) of heaven, whatever you have in the bread basket is fine-especially the heel. And remember perfection is the enemy of good enough. It's lunch, not church so you needn't make a sandwich for the ages, just to get us to dinner.
-bill kenny
Ramblings of a badly aged Baby Boomer who went from Rebel Without a Cause to Bozo Without a Clue in, seemingly, the same afternoon.
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