I read an article this morning that today is National Peanut Butter Day, and it was presenting me with a bacon peanut butter sandwich recipe. For some reason, I discarded it. Then I remembered that every time I eat PB, I’m convinced it has a trace of crack in it. It was introduced into my diet as a small child and has never left my blood stream. So in honor of this day, let’s talk a little walk down memory lane of our relationship.
As I down slices of peanut butter toast in my face 15 at a time, this jingle plays on television imprinting this on my brain for the next 30 years. “It takes a lot of little nuts to make a jar of peanut butter…”
Normal peanut butter consumption parlays into full-blown Ben & Jerry’s Chubby Hubby addiction requiring a weekly (at times nightly) intake of one carton per sitting. Peanut Butter ribbons + PB-filled pretzels= Big Ass Problem (literally). Spiraling out of control, I consider purchasing one of these.
And sadly, has plateaued into this. Not that our relationship is over, or on the rocks, but just that all I need is a little bit here and there to keep a little crack in my system.