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.