On toast, it's one of my favorite breakfast meals.
With just a little bit of heat, the peanut butter gets all ooey gooey and WONDERFUL. Of course, you can't eat peanut butter toast without a glass of milk, which I really didn't start drinking until I became a vegetarian, which was...good lord, years ago now. 4 years? 5 years? Gosh, that brings me back...
...to my junior and senior years in college when I was living with my friend Mary who was a vegetarian (shout out, you yogurt-eater!). We lived in a 5 bedroom apartment named "The Abode," which was more than half the reason we all moved there.
Milwaukee, folks. I went to college in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Mil-town. Brew City. Though, I admit, we all frequented the smaller microbreweries like Lakefront more than we frequented Miller. I must've gone on that Lakefront tour a hundred times.
I remember Lakefront hosted a polka party once. It really just looked like a lot of hopping around, so I tipsily joined in, only to get sweaty in 2.2 seconds, whereupon I left the dance floor in search of the nearest bathroom so that I could wipe myself dry with paper towels while a bunch of middle-aged Czech women eyed my suspiciously, looking from my pink face to my wet hair to each other and then back to my face again. Yes, wonderful memories...
Speaking of Czech women...at Marquette, I had a Czech nun for an English teacher. I wanted to put her adorable, pocket-sized self in my backpack...
...until she asked me if I'd plagiarized my paper on Heart of Darkness.
Which reminds me of my high school teacher, Mr. Hilbert. Thanks to him, I had already read Heart of Darkness by the time I got to college and so was able to blow away that Czech nun's mind :-)
Aw, that Mr. Hilbert. He was an intimidating one. With a white handlebar mustache that he twisted in between his fingers whenever you were boring him...say with your interpretation of Madame Bovary, for example. More than once his mustache-twirling made me lose my train of thought. He'd look at me with my arm raised, squint his eyes to make sure it was indeed me who had her hand raised, bring his fingers to his mustache, and then call on me to speak. I'd immediately get distracted by his fingers twisting, twisting, twisting, his mouth pursing to make the mustache hairs stand out just a little bit more, always twisting (said in the voice of that kid from The Sandlot, "lotioning, lotioning, always lotioning"). And then POOF! I'd lose my train of thought. He'd say, "Yes, Erin?" And, unable to look away from the yellowing tips of his mustache, I'd answer, "I forgot." To which he would open his eyes wide, remove his fingers from his mustache, and look around the room again. I'd just look down at my desk, shake my head, and wonder What the hell just happened? Wicked whiskers...
Lucky for me, Mr. Hilbert shaved off his mustache later that year. His upper lip was so pronounced without the distraction of his curled white hairs that he looked cartoonish. He'd lost his intimidating facade. Which meant that I could raise my hand and speak to him as I would speak to any other cartoon character--with superior intelligence (Superior to a cartoon character's intelligence, that is. Which really isn't worth bragging about, is it?)
High school. Man, that seems like forever ago, doesn't it? Eating lunch at "your group's table" and lockers (and locker-filchers) and god-forsaken PE class and hall passes and paperbag book covers and "shadow students" and that ice patch outside the front doors where the senior boys sat, waiting for people to slip and fall...
Which reminds me! The ice has melted! The ground has thawed! Spring is here! All I can think about are the flowering crab-apple trees and their soury-sweet smell. And birds flying low with grass and twigs in their beaks (Birds I've had to honk at a few times, by the by. A flattened sparrow is NOT my idea of a cool grill ornament).
Speaking of grills, A and I have already grilled out a few times this Spring! Aaahhh, the gloriousness that is a porch, no? A and I are thinking of stringing twinkle lights above ours to make it some sort of sanctuary for summer soirees (Sorry, alliteration is like a drug to me! More, More, MORE!).
Maybe y'all could come over some time soon and hang out with us? Cheers a couple chilled beverages? Watch our neighbors back in and out of their garages? That's the view from our townhome's back porch, by the way. Before you judge, know that A and I have found the view quite entertaining. Donna chasing her daughter around on a tricycle; our motorcycle-afficionado neighbors hosting BBQ pit party after BBQ pit party; the little boy who sweeps out the garage every week...after asking if you've gotten anything good in the mail lately. I'm telling you--good stuff. So yeah, see you soon, I guess.
I leave you all wondering how the hell we got here from "peanut butter"...
I'm good. Real good ;)
P.S. Go see my newest Daily Dose of Dillies!
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Wow! My mind has just been on a total roller coaster of a ride. But I have to admit I got so distracted (NOT KIDDING!) by the story of your teacher and his mustache that I had to go back and browse through the rest of your post again to remember what you'd said. LOL! Crazy!
ReplyDeletePS... I LOVE SCREEN DOORS TOO! :) Now I wish I had one.
Looks like peanut butter sent you on a trip down memory lane. Ha ha ha. Your subtitle's subtitle could be "Peanut Butter Nostalgia." I think your old apartment/house looks awesomely well-loved! It reminds me of my old apartment building in Atlanta.
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