Bread Skin and Balances

While making PB&J sandwiches this morning for kid lunches,* I found a third end piece at the bottom of the bag of bread. This was odd—like a double yolked-egg, or maybe a yokeless egg—and it also meant I had to open a new bag because my children firmly believe that bread skin is fundamentally wrong.

But for those willing to risk it, end pieces, whatever their mysterious origins,** make great cheese toast, which I didn’t have to share because no one else would touch it.

This was, as it turned out, the theme of the day:

Sunny dressed herself in a pastel dress with a sequined cupcake on the front and a floofy attached skirt, paired it with tie-dyed tights in black, orange, green, and pink, and insisted on bright yellow hair elastics for her pigtails.  And her white sandals.

My MIL had to take her to school this morning.

We discovered too late that I’d forgotten to nag Janie about not forgetting her lunch*** and I had no cash, so my husband had to drive all the way over there mid-morning so the child wouldn’t starve or convince the lunch lady to let her charge five ice cream sandwiches to the school.

I don’t have to make her lunch tomorrow.

My To-Do list at work had nine items on it.


I found one of my favorite pens in the back of my desk drawer at work, didn’t notice it was already clicked, and tried to click it from the wrong end.

I did find out the ink wasn’t dry and that we had restocked the band-aids in the first aid kit.

It rained all day, I was wearing my favorite red shoes, and I forgot my lunch, too.^

Had lunch with a friend, my cowlick was pasted down in a not-unattractive fashion, and Janie’s softball game was cancelled.

Janie’s first softball game was cancelled.

The intricate, three-car dance devised to get her there and home in the overlaps between two work schedules is now down to one car picking her up from school and driving us both straight home, where a crockpotted roast will be waiting.

Needed a Tuesday blog post and though the well isn’t dry, the bucket rope seems to have snapped.

No problem.

What’s weirder–an egg with no yolk or snake shoes?  Discuss . . .

*Or, in Sunny’s case, PB, as she doesn’t like J. Or M. Or H. And I refuse to make PB&Bs or PB&Cs—at least where the other mothers might catch wind of it.

**Attention, person who knows how this was managed–some things are better not explained, so don’t spoil the air of  mystery, please.

***Say it with me:  damned if I do . . .

^Janie forgot to nag me!