Nothing But Love :: golf blogger

Peanut Butter

I made peanut butter cookies the other day, then I made more the day after that. I like peanut butter cookies; and I enjoy making cookies, but I find making peanut butter cookies more difficult than most things in life.

I heard that. Let me explain. First of all, the answer to the question you had after you exclaimed "what" is "Yes, he is fucking nuts;" but I used the real word, the word you were thinking but didn't say out loud because the kids are around or you are morally opposed to saying such a word. And that's okay. I don't hold it against you.

It's the peanut butter. I hate touching peanut butter. I hate being touched by peanut butter. Don't get me wrong. I stuck my finger down Matt's throat when he couldn't breathe because his throat was blocked by peanut butter and pulled out a huge glob of peanut butter, saving him from peanut butter pneumonia. But I hate touching peanut butter. I hate being touched by peanut butter.

And so, making peanut butter cookies is a most difficult thing to do. Peanut butter will not come off with just water. It takes soap and water to separate peanut butter from human skin. I thought about wearing purple latex surgical gloves that I found on my way out of the hospital one night, but I couldn't find the box. Do you realize how fucking difficult it was to get the last of the peanut butter out of the jar while trying not to get the goo on the back of my hand. Use a longer-handled spoon might be a suggestion, but then control is lost in getting the last of the peanut butter out of where the bottom meets the side of the jar. If the spoon slipped and flicked peanut butter into my face, then that would have been a catastrophe beyond compare. Unless the peanut butter went into my eye and gooeyed up my contact lens. That is worse, certainly, and actually outlawed. Very cruel. Specifically prohibited by Article 3 of the Geneva Conventions, which is the part Bush wants to change ... peanut butter eye torture.

The end result, peanut butter cookies, far outweighs the incidental contact with peanut butter while making the cookies. So, while more difficult than most things in life, making peanut butter is a tolerable exercise.

Not so for the peanut butter sandwich. I hate touching peanut butter. I hate being touched by peanut butter. I hate eating peanut butter. And adding jelly doesn't make it, either. Don't even try to go there.

Here's the problem, though. Ever since I have been married, it has been my yoke to make peanut butter sandwiches. Not for me. Never for me. I have been told by my lovely wife, however, that I make the best peanut butter sandwiches she has ever had in her life. I realize that this might be a hollow compliment so as to keep me on the hook making peanut butter sandwiches for her. It happens like this sometimes, "You make the best peanut butter sandwiches. Can you make one for me?" And it's three in the morning. So, I make it for her. And she says, "Mmmmm, you make the best peanut butter sandwiches," as I present it to her on a silver platter.

I hate making peanut butter sandwiches. It's the peanut butter. It invariably gets on me. It matters not how careful I am. Peanut butter's very nature dictates that it attach to human skin. It cannot be stopped. I hate touching peanut butter. I hate being touched by peanut butter. But I make the sandwiches nonetheless. It is one of the things I do. It is one of the things I will always do. No matter the risk.

***For some inexplicable reason, this entry was posted four times. Some people left comments on the three entries I deleted. I offer my sincere apology to the three 148 people who commented. I'm sure there was some way to move them to the one entry I didn't delete, but I didn't feel like finding out, and it was easier to offer an apology.***

Posted by Bill at September 18, 2006 09:41 PM