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On the Subject of Food

Do you remember Butternut bread? It came in a blue and white checked wrapper and was soft and moist and squishy. When we were kids, we used to tear off the crusts, then roll it into dough balls. Butternut bread made the very best dough balls. I’d forgotten about doing that. My favorite was to dip the dough balls in creamy peanut butter. Mmmm.

And that reminded me of a new favorite sandwich: cheese and peanut butter on toasted bread. It sounds disgusting, but it’s damnfinetasty. You have to use real cheese. The fake stuff, like Kraft singles or Velveeta, would get lost–flavor-wise and texture-wise–in the peanut butter. Sharp cheddar works best, I think.

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In Da Hood

While I was in the shower this morning, I heard what I at first thought were firecrackers going off. One, then about half a minute later, two fainter blasts. But fireworks? At that hour? Unlikely. After thinking about it some more–I wasn’t exactly awake yet–it occurred to me that I can barely hear firecrackers from inside, and certainly not over the noise from the shower and fan. Aieee! Those were not fireworks I heard. They had to’ve been gunshots.

I got out of the shower, meaning to call 911, but I looked out the window first and the place was already crawling with cops. Thankfully, someone else was more alert and clueful than I was, and had already called them.

The cops were still there when I left for work. I wonder what, exactly, happened?