Tuesday, September 10, 2013

The Job of the Heel

Dear Diary,

Almost every school day morning, the first thing I do after I get up is make the girls' lunches.  In my PJs and -- if the family is lucky -- my faded pink robe, I saunter into the still-dark kitchen to pull out the "samwich" supplies, which includes bread of some sort.  On a good day it is usually a choice between bagels, sub bread or sliced sandwich bread.

Inevitably, when I choose to use the loaf of sliced bread, I remember a scene at my cousin's house a few years ago.  It is funny what tidbits of information stick in my head over the years.  I often can't remember an occasion, but I can remember a moment.

At my cousin's home, we were putting sandwiches together for some reason.  I assume it was for a cheap lunch option for our airplane ride home from the Sunshine State, but I can't be sure.  I reached into the bag to pull out some slices, which were quite a few for my family of five.  I reached the bottom of the bag and grabbed the heel. 

Being the sacrificial mom that I am, I knew that the sandwich with the undesirable heel would be my own.

After assembling said sandwiches for the family, enter my cousin.  She is frugal minded, like me, and had the foresight to offer us her food for our comfort on the (equally frugal) plane ride.  But when she saw my heel-clad sandwich, her eyebrows furrowed. 

"Why are you eating the heel?" she asked. 

It's my job, as a mom, to eat the heel, I thought. 

In actuality, I didn't have time to reply before she said, "We only keep the heels in the bag to keep the rest of the loaf fresh.  We don't eat them."

Boy, were my eyes opened to new wonders.  Not eat the heel?  What kind of luxury is this?  Do I really have permission from my economically like-minded cousin to discard the heel for a fresh, fluffy slice of bread?

Every morning since then, as I reach for the slices to make a "samwich" for my girls, I remember her comment and bypass that heel and go straight for the center cuts.  

I have a new job for those heels:  to protect the freshness of the inner loaf! 
And when their job is done, I toss them. 

Yup.  I do.  Unless I am hungry for a piece of toast. 

Heels do make pretty good toast.

Love to my cuz,

1 comment:

  1. :) Gotta admit I was totally expecting you to talk about shoes here...but I smiled anyway. Happy Wednesday, friend!