Sorry for the late post. I’ve been so busy! This has been a strange week or so. I’ve dealt with a lot of drama and stressfeul bullshit, but on the other hand, I’ve received some good praise.
One of our brands is having a series of conferences, so clearly, my life has been hell for a couple weeks. This week, I thought I was really going to lose it for real! A few tasks got out of hand. Of course, I made it work, even if it cost me a few tears and a fever. I just kind of shut down after quittin’ time, especially when I was feverish. Damn! A week’s worth of productive time lost to fever induced exhaustion and depression. Oh well.
It’s funny though because I’ve received presents and praise this week, too. One of the franchise presidents used to be a receptionist, and she sent me a swanky, super adorable watch as a thank you. One of the girls who went to a trade show brought me makeup swag, too. I also got free coffee, which really “perked” me up!
Anyways, I’m keeping this post brief because I have so much to get done today, and I just don’t know if it’s going to happen. I have walls to paint, stencils to stencil, tile floors to demolish and the whole house to clean! Egad! This week’s poem focused on the joys of eating your lunch (my lunch specifically) instead of threats of trashing forgotten good. I’ve been wanting to pay homage to my favorite lunch of the summer:
An ode by Prentice Osborne
There is one thing,
that I forget how much I love until,
my Dad’s garden reminds me,
with a surplus.
I see that bulging, veggie-filled bag.
It becomes my obsession with my favorite season,
A tomato sandwich only works with fresh tomatoes,
not the supermarket ones,
bred to superficial perfection,
and artificially ripened with ethylene gas.
The best sandwich tomato is big,
so big that it split a little while on the plant.
It’s okay, Just cut around it.
Good tomatoes have shape and seeds inside,
that spill on the cutting board.
I don’t peel the fruit,
that’s fruitless labor,
I love the thin skin,
so I simply place the slices,
between slices of bread,
with salt and pepper,
and a little mayo.
Some people use butter,
and I find that odd.
One bite, and I’m blissful.
The salty, sweet juice dribbles,
and lands sometimes on the bread,
and sometimes on my chin.
The mess is no big deal.
It takes me back,
to when my mommy made me sandwiches.
It’s crazy to think that a tomato,
brings the same, eye-closing, involuntary “Mmmm” moment
as chocolaty, fat-filled indulgences.
I can’t beat myself-up over a tomato sandwich.
It’s relatively healthy,
and brings me too much joy,
more than it probably should.
Don’t mistake this for the beginning of a BLT,
or a fraction of a turkey club.
This is a tomato sandwich,
simple yet an experience all its own,
and it’s my favorite lunch.