Last night, Geoff came across this article about the cheap and tasty toast sandwich. Apparently, this is a very inexpensive way to feed yourself. A piece of toast between two pieces of buttered bread with salt and pepper to taste. Mmmm…. delicious.
What? Are you kidding me? I was already baffled by some of the things Brits will pass off as a sandwich. French fry sandwich? (chip butty) Hashbrown sandwich? Carbs inside carbs? Give me a break. And you know I love carbs. Potato chip sandwich. I throw up my hands. And now this? A toast sandwich? You can’t be serious. I’ve challenged my husband to live off of them for a week just to prove their supposed legitimacy. I don’t think he’ll do it. I am making him eat at least one. Toast sandwich? Sheesh!
Geoff also brought home a shiny new handmade koa ukulele with inlaid mother of pearl. It’s gorgeous. And expensive. But he deserves it. So much for getting him one for Christmas. He did that to me last year, too, with the PS3. I think Wishful Thinking by the Ditty Bops definitely needs to go into our act. He’s not convinced.
I’ve started to put together my Thanksgiving menu. I just have to find the perfect pumpkin cheesecake recipe, and then the time table can start coming together. I’m a bit distressed at the amount of dishes I’m going to have to buy to make this meal servable. I’m also a little worried about how we’re going to fit everybody in the backyard. Also, where are we going to put the food to serve it. Do I have enough counter space? Oh well. We’ll make it work. If I can make and serve a Christmas dinner in Taiwan, I can do it here easy. It’s just that there will be strange adults, I mean proper adults, present at my Thanksgiving. I don’t want them shaking their heads in disappointment. Maybe I should just get them drunk as quickly as possible.
I’m hungry. I’m going to eat breakfast. I will not be having a toast sandwich.