When we four children lived together under the same roof–the greatest dinners were not the holiday feasts that my mother slaved over (sorry mom, those were good too),  they were this accidental phenomenon that she created–‘make your own sandwich night’.  A couple different kinds of meat and cheese, some crusty buns, a few condiments, a handful of potato chips and you had yourself a party.  For years we would rave and reminisce about those nights.  Recently, my brother mentioned how he told a friend about these nights, and his friend was like: ‘Nah, man, that’s just sandwiches for supper”, to which he replied “No, man, its ‘make your own sandwich night‘. My mother admitted that she did it on nights when she couldn’t be bothered; just took our enthusiasm as a small victory for all mother-kind.  She was just grateful that it was better received than the time she dished up stewed tomatoes from the pantry. Bless her, she really did try to sell this meal, as I sobbed hopelessly at the table.  “Oh, I used to love a big bowl of tomatoes in the summertime, with a spoonful of sugar on top!”  Cool story mom, but I call bullshit.

Fridays are my toughest blogging day, it’s my first day back at work, and it is also our grocery shopping/errand running day.  By the time we get home, unpack, prepare some kind of sustenance…I kind of wish I had my own make-your-own-sandwich blogging equivalent.  Just throw a bunch of raw ingredients on the table, stand back and smoke a cigarette while everyone happily stuffs their faces.  Maybe tonight is more of a stewed tomato kind of night, so just sprinkle some sugar on top, and know that there will be many feasts in our future.

And now for some some old movie stars eating sandwiches…

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