Sometimes he makes me laugh

Anyone who has known my husband Andy for very long would be able to tell you that he is a little picky when it comes to food. To be fair, I will eat just about anything, so it doesn't take much before I put someone in the picky eaters club. But by any standard, Andy's tastes are highly discriminatory. Though I could list all of the foods on the "Andy-does-not-eat-list," that is not the real reason for my post.

The food I want to focus on today is bread. Not so much a loaf of bread, (because he doesn't really eat that), but sandwich rolls. I am gradually learning what makes a good (and bad) sandwich roll. The bread must be soft and a little doughy, with no type of seeds or other foreign objects on top, and any kind of flavor is out of the question. Its incredible how fresh and tasty the rolls can look in the package, and then when you try them they are tastless, tough, or stale. Needless to say, I've learned by trial and error. Though Andy has been more than gracious, I always feel a little guilty packing his lunch with a sandwich I know he isn't really going to like. I usually have a flashback of my first-grade self, trying to swallow the lump of white bread and Bologna in my mouth.

All of this is a backdrop for the events that unfolded tonight. After Andy and I ate dinner tonight, I left to go grocery shopping. Among the items on my list for this week were "Good sandwich Rolls." I wrote it like this so I would remember to really look and find the PERFECT roll. I write this every week. Except that tonight, I actually found it! A new grocery store opened down the road just recently, and their selection is superb. So tonight, I found the perfect fresh, doughy, plain sandwich roll; I was ecstatic!

As I put the groceries away, I set aside the things I needed to make lunches for tomorrow. I could just imagine Andy coming home after work and raving over the sandwich perfection. (a little much perhaps, but you'd be surprised how excited he gets about good food) I was just finishing putting the groceries away when Andy came into the kitchen. We started talking about something, and it took a moment before I noticed that he was holding something in his hand. And he was squishing it. And it was the rolls! My perfect, Andy-approved, my-search-is-over sandwich rolls! My face must have conveyed my horror, because Andy simultaneously stopped talking and smashing the rolls into an unrecognizable mass of dough.

ME: "What are you doing??"

ANDY: "Uhhhhh...."

ME: "Those are for your lunches!"

ANDY: "I thought they were moldy!"

ME: "So you wanted to smash them?"

ANDY: "I was going to give them to the birds."

By this time, Andy looked so crestfallen that I couldn't help but laugh. You may be wondering, as I was and actually still am, why you would want to pulverize the bread before you would give it to the birds. You may also be wondering, as I was, why it was assumed that the bread was moldy. However, I feel it is best not to pursue the answers to these questions. I do know that next time, I'm getting two packages; one for Andy to eat, and the other for him to play with.