My hair is greying.
Not just a few. It’s got highlights. White highlights. Highlights that I wish would just clump together so I could call them a skunk stripe and be both Rogue and Mrs. Robinson at once. Any maybe fly and have super strength. While seducing adolescent men? Maybe I’ve gone too far.
When someone caught me drinking three cups of instant coffee, watching Top Chef while painting my nails and heating up more waffle fries for dinner, I had to make a self-intervention.
I went to bed early. I woke up 30 minutes early and made tea. And home lunch, the way Mom used to pack it.
Although I grew up jealous of my friends’ cool Lunchables with their mini sandwich meats and bite-sized cookies, or even the SPAM musubis, my white-hair-clad, nine to five aging body is grateful for the comforts of home. This time, the kids were jealous of my lunch.
No recipe required.
This is fancy bread. It’s got rye. And cranberries and pecans.
Creamy? Chunky? Bananas? Apples? Jam? Honey?
Everything but the brown paper bag.