Wanna trade?

Today I packed (yes packed, I’m not made of money) a chicken and swiss sandwich.  White bread.  Mayo AND mustard.  And it better be good because I was still baking that damn chicken at 10:00 last night.

I was telling my mom all about my sandwich plight.  In trying to be resourceful and frugal I thought it best to use chicken I already had to make my sandwiches this week rather than buy cold cuts.  Again.  Plus, I’m a little sick of the same thing for lunch every day so I thought that fried chicken or chicken salad would be a good idea.  Plus, I have a short week this week because Boo and I are headed home for a wedding (so get excited for a super fab guest blogger on Friday!).  But by the time the stupid chicken thawed out I was not in the mood to George Foreman it and then craft the perfect mix of mayo and spices for a delish chix salad.  And frying was way too much effort, which is a shame b/c I make one hell of a fried chicken.

So I baked it.  And it turned out fine, I guess, so I can’t really keep whining, but the whole chicken situation was very frustrating.  But anyway, like I said, I was telling my mom all about my lunch concerns and she said that I should see if anyone wanted to trade.  She was definitely joking, Mama B is so silly sometimes, but she did succeed in making me miss being a little kid.

Do you not remember trading lunches in elementary school?  It was the best.  There were certain items that were absolutely key to get in a trade.  Dunkaroos for one.  Fruit Rollups for another.  No one wanted fruit.  Fruit was for wimps.  Candy, man, that was where it was at.

Then there was the sandwich.  PB & J usually got traded for something more…exotic.  Like ham and cheese.  Or pb & j on a bagel.  Really, once you put a sandwich on a bagel, you made it infinitely more exciting to eat.  Of course I took it one step further and used to pack cream cheese and jelly on Ego minis.  I was a brown bag genius.

Once you had the perfect sandwich, you had to start bartering for chips.  And they better be good.  You don’t mess with a 9-year-old’s Doritos.  Cool Ranch, Nacho Cheese…then, as we got older, CoolER Ranch, Nacho CheesIER.  Lunch just got a little more intense.

With all of these memories floating around in my head, I don’t know how I am going to be expected to enjoy my boring old sandwich and graham crackers.  But maybe, just maybe, someone will trade me a graham cracker for cookie.

If not, I’ll just wait.  I’m sure it will be a matter of time before someone brings in a cake.

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12 thoughts on “Wanna trade?

  1. Ben: If they could have found a way to say “trianglier” without sounding like weirdos, I think they would have.

    Apollo: Oh that’s where you’re wrong–I would TOTALLY have traded for your cheese sandwich. I packed a lot of those in my day. What can I say? I love me some dairy.

    Matt: It’s a total chameleon. Except, you know, not weird to eat like a chameleon would be. Uh….

  2. I was a weird child. I never ever traded my lunch. In fact I was slightly over protective of it – nobody was allowed to touch any item in my lunch.

  3. Oh! Katelin! My mother was a vegetarian so she had no clue what a sandwich with meat should be like. She made butter and bologna sandwiches on whole wheat! It was nasty.

    Nobody would trade me with that shit. Not even the fat smelly kid.

  4. Dingo: I always completely forget about Fritos when I’m in a chip mood even though they are probably one of my top chip favorites.

    Katelin: Again, I would have eaten the bologna sandwich. I kind of dug them.

    Kristen: Digging bologna did NOT make me the fat smelly kid, just so we’re clear.

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