Having gone through two big moves in the past three years, one would think that I am up to snuff with my stuff. A quick survey has me surmising that:
a) I have a fear that grocery stores will run out of frozen edamame beans. I have 3 very old bags, 1 unopened and 2 in different stages of use and abuse.
b) My body may break out in boils or carbuncles. I have enough herbal poultices and brews at the helm to cure a small army.
c) Stevie Nicks may want to borrow some of my clothing and I want to be ready. Thanks to a year working at Darbury Stenderu, fiber artist extraordinaire my closet groans with sumptuous velvet.
d) I have a Dr. Jekyll & Hyde diet. Ounce per ounce, I match hijiki to jelly beans, Pure Synergy to Marshmallow Fluff. Something has got to give, it is either me or the fluff...
So as a parting nod to the pretty white number in satin chiffon, we will dance one final twirl around the floor as the lights dim…
Grilled fluffernutter sandwich:
2 slices of 9 grain bread (who am I kidding?)
Healthy slather of Hannaford’s crunchy peanut butter (incidentally the best PB I have ever had, it is quite salty and chock full of peanut nuggets)
A liberal coat of the Fluff
Grill to golden perfection, appreciate the oozing goodness and devoutly devour.