Remember Kraft Singles? Or folding a piece of Oscar Meyer baloney in half and biting a hole in the center?
Michael asked me these two questions last night. We’ve been married a long time. I had a crap day and after talking with him I went to bed a little lighter, a little less adult. When you find another mind that not only works in a similar way, but knows what you need and when you need it, that is a person worth planning your tomorrows with.
We talked about the joy of a Kraft single when you’re a kid. The little envelope wrapping and folding the cheese any way you wanted. Kraft singles were fun. You could grab them on your way out the door to play or sneak them when you weren’t supposed to eat anything after dinner. They didn’t require a napkin and apart from the little clear wrapper that could easily be shoved into a pocket, they were untraceable. And, the cheese was, and I’m sure still is, super yummy on a baloney sandwich with real mayonnaise.
Kraft singles eventually evolved into the real cheese singles. Remember the ones that were just a sliced block of cheese, no clear wrapper? That soon gave way to other sliced cheeses like Cheddar or Swiss. Eventually it was determined people should limit their cheese intake all together and if you must have cheese, make sure it comes from organic ingredients that were sustainably harvested, and on and on and on. Baloney met a similar fate with it’s “meat parts” and preservatives.
Kraft singles were simple before I started thinking about everything. Before every decision in life became complicated and adult to the point that now I usually only have half a slice of cheese, or really no cheese at all.
It’s important to return to the base, the root of things, sometimes. Michael did that for me last night. Kraft and Oscar Meyer did that for me as a child. When life gets too…adult, run to the store, buy some baloney, fold it in half and bite out the center. I’m not saying it will fix everything, but it’s a good starting point.
My thoughts from the laundry room. Midnight Snack.
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