A couple of months back I was babysitting Bailey Girl for the weekend at her place. Travis gave me a tour of the apartment so that I would feel more at home.
When we got to the pantry I spotted no less than six jars of Skippy Super Chunk Honey Roasted Peanut Butter. I raised an eyebrow at him. "Stocking up for the Big One?" I asked.
He laughed. "Nope. It's just that my mom sends it to me. I can't find it here so she ships it from Phoenix."
I looked. They have creamy in the stores, but not Super Chunk. I tried some on my English Muffin the Sunday morning that Bailey and spent together, and, while I normally don't like chunky peanut butter, I fell in love.
This past weekend I was craving that peanut butter, but, alas, only the creamy was to be found. I picked up a jar of it and thought I would go back to bagels for breakfast. (More on why I have to have hand-held breakfasts in a later post.) Then yesterday I was feeling particularly down and my shipper put a small box on my desk with the company logo all over it. "What's this?" I asked rather moronically, as though poor Henry is a psychic. He shrugged. I looked at the return address: San Francisco. I opened it and perfectly nestled from my other shipper in the City was a jar from Phoenix.
Somebody hasn't forgotten me...bless his heart.
I had Skippy with SUPER CHUNKS for breakfast this fine day.