Caution: The following blog entry contains a few swear words and several references to John Tesh. Everyone in the house is asleep except me right now. I think this awakens my inner sailor. My apologies in advance for the language. Dad.
My mother-in-law has this book written by John Tesh.
Up until I noticed the book on her kitchen counter, I had always thought John Tesh was just Lisa Hart's bitch on Entertainment Tonight. Oh yeah, and I do know he is also a sort of new age musician (think Yanni meets Shroader from The Peanuts) who seems to cater exclusively to fifty-something divorcees. I imagine his concerts consisting of middle-aged women screaming and throwing their Spanx onto the stage as John Tesh, mysteriously shrouded in smoke from an industrial-grade fog machine, plays a keyboard set on Synth Vibe II. Yeah, I don't really get it either.
Because it was sitting right next to a jar of pretzels I can never seem to keep my hand out of whenever I'm at my in-laws', I opened the book and started reading. The paragraph I read had to do with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. In it, John Tesh explains that roughly 85% of all Americans spread on the peanut butter first. (The other 15% polled just sort of looked at John Tesh in confusion, thinking, why is this weirdo asking me how I make PB&J? He looks kinda familiar.... Wasn't he Lisa Hart's bitch on ET?)
I'm not really sure what his point was, here...was he commenting on our rising obesity rate, linking it back to the fact that we Americans sure do love our peanut butter, we spread that shit on THICK, and that's why we're all a bunch of fat asses. Or was he merely saying that once we establish a habit (like putting the peanut butter on first) it will take an enormous amount of ambition and motivation to break ourselves of said habit (like switching to Nutella and marshmallow fluff instead...I wonder what percentage of us spreads on the fluff first...and what percentage goes into an immediate diabetic coma the instant we take a bite?)
ANYWAY, the reason I'm even bringing up John Tesh and his amazing powers of observation, is now that I make Rollie's snack for preschool three times a week, I am gripped in this powerful internal struggle. I get out the bread, the peanut butter, the jelly, and a knife. I cut the bread in half and reach for the jar of peanut butter. Then I stop. Don't do it, I think. Don't be one of those people who puts the peanut butter on first. Fight the urge, Bekah. Show some self-respect. Put the peanut butter down. Good. Good. Now open the jelly and slather it on that bread. Good for you. Your part of small yet mighty group of self-possessed people who spread their jelly on first. Nicely done.
And then I think, Screw you, John Tesh. Why am I letting you and your stupid book dictate how I make my son a sandwich? So what if I reach for the peanut butter first? If it happens to be the jar closer to me, wouldn't that simply make me a more efficient sandwich artist? Aren't I being a weak-minded lemming if the only reason I don't spread the jelly on first is that you are using your Jedi Mind Tricks to make me think I shouldn't? Piss off, John Tesh. I HATE YOU. And you know something else? Mary Hart overshadowed your ass on that stupid show for TEN YEARS. For TEN FREAKING YEARS you sat there in your stupid chair with your over-sprayed hair and your fake tan, and all the audience could think was, "God, please get this douche-bag off the screen so we can see Mary Hart again." How does that make you feel, John Tesh? How dare you bully me into a making a sandwich for my son the way you say I should?
...I'm sorry. I'm sure you're a perfectly nice guy, and a bit of a Renaissance Man. I'm not really hostile. I'm just tired. Elsa didn't nap, Rollie won't stop tackling her, the dog keeps barking to go out, then barking to come back in, and I'm pretty sure I'm out of beer. So really, it's not you...it's me. I'm sure there was some very logical reasoning behind your peanut butter observation, some important point that I completely missed because I wasn't really paying attention to your book; it was just right there in front of the pretzels so I had no choice but to stare at it as I absently ate a bunch of empty, salty calories. Maybe we all have something to learn from your peanut butter observation. Maybe I do need to break away from old habits. Maybe I should start wearing Spanx and listening to your music, too....
Seriously. This is what runs through my mind pretty much every time I make a sandwich for Rollie's snack. I hope Jeff doesn't read this blog; he will think I've lost my mind. Or rather, his suspicions that I have already lost my mind will be unquestionably confirmed.
Either way, tomorrow Rollie gets a Nutella and marshmallow fluff sandwich. And a syringe of insulin.