I should be doing a thousand other things right now, but I'm not. I've been silent for a bit too long on this space, and I felt that silence needed to end this morning.
I should also post pictures because I know there are certain people who religiously check the blog for pictures of my three peanuts, and I'm totally letting them down. In truth, I don't have the energy or patience to look for my camera cord, so my camera has remained untouched since we arrived home from Arizona. (Maybe tonight dad, maybe tonight. I'll try and muster up the energy to dig through all the places the girls love to hide important things like cords, credit cards and phones.)
Not five minutes ago, I found myself sitting alone at my cluttered kitchen table trying not to eat the remaining 1/3 of my onion bagel sandwich. It was quite the scene. I picked the darn thing up, only to shake my head and put it down again about five times. My stomach was full, or at least that was the signal my brain was telling my mouth, but my mouth kept thinking, you never buy onion bagel sandwiches...just one more bite. Alas, my mind won and I stuck the rest in the refrigerator for later.
Is there anything quite like ham, turkey, red onion, lettuce, tomato and mustard on an onion bagel? I dare say there is not. It is my favorite lunch sandwich. It has been for years. Sadly for my tastebuds, but good for my waist...I do not allow myself to go to Einstein's more than a few times a year. If I could, I'd eat there weekly.
Did you know that I once worked at a bagel shop? It remains at the top of my list of favorite jobs. When I was 17, I decided to defer my first fall semester at BYU to earn more money for upcoming semesters. I was kind of a wreck at 17 so coming home seemed like the most logical choice since I had only completed one summer term there and hadn't really found my place in Provo yet. It would be the last time I ever went home (with the exception of holidays) during college.
As soon as I arrived home, I took applications to all different kinds of jobs. I ended up being hired at two places: the early morning shift at Bruegger's Bagels down the street from my parents' house and the evening shift at some credit collector place downtown. I had to arrive at the bagel shop before 5am most mornings. I'm pretty sure the only thing that helped me get through most mornings was the fact that the Spanish baker loved Enrique Iglesias and blasted his cd as loud as possible before customers arrived. Three months into working there I knew every word, English and Spanish, of that cd.
I'm not sure why I loved that job so much, but I'm fairly certain that I loved it because of the people. People were almost always happy to receive a bagel, especially at 5am before they had to head into their dead-end job. I met so many interesting people before the sun was up. We'd joke and laugh, and I'd toss their bagel over the counter just in time for them to brush up on their catching skills. It never ceased to amaze me all the odd combinations I'd make in a day, such as strawberry cream cheese on an onion bagel, or onion cream cheese on blueberry, or salmon cream cheese on cranberry, etc. I'd smile as I made the order, but my insides would scream "This is all wrong!!"
Perhaps my ideas have changed, but I get weird combinations now. Just the other night I was telling Tim that I was craving my grandma's potato salad and fresh pineapple. Those don't really go together, but who cares?! It's my combination, and no one else's.
This post has turned out to be a post about nothing really. Sorry about that. I just felt a bit of nostalgia as I walked into Einstein's this morning. The workers were cheery and helpful, and I longed to behind the counter with them, even if that meant attaching Elle to my hip in some way. I told Tim when I dropped off his sandwich that someday I'd like to work in a bagel shop again, even if it means I gain 100 lbs. He smiled and said, as he always does, "You go do whatever you want to do." That man of mine is a special one. ;)