Well, I was lucky enough to pick up some freelance work, so I've been too busy to write here.
However, I do have a quick comment to make - I hate the smell of wet peanut butter. You know - the smell that comes from running the knife that still has peanut butter on it under the faucet to clean it off. Makes me dry heave.
Don’t get me wrong. I love peanut butter. Couldn’t live without it, really. If some psycho fascist dictator took over the country and ruled against the possession and use of peanut butter, I would risk my neck for a secret stash. We slather peanut butter and honey on toast in the morning. PB&J rules the lunchtime menu. Peanut butter on celery, on Stacy’s Simply Naked Pita Chips (which, by-the-way, are not to be lived without either), on pretzels. My mom got me to eating peanut butter and lettuce sandwiches. Frozen banana and peanut butter on graham crackers is a treat around here. Growing up, a favorite after school snack was peanut butter toast covered in crunched-up Doritos. And on the rare occasion when Doritos are allowed in the house, I revert right back to being 13 again.
Peanut butter is like the color black. It goes with just about everything.
Except water.
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