SANDWICH NIGHT

Or Failure to Plan

Failure to plan is planning to fail. I’m sure you’ve all heard that.

And that’s because it’s true. Take dinner. When the children started eating solid food, I started planning nightly dinners for the family. I usually had a weekly meal plan that led to a weekly shopping list.

I kept up with this plan for years.

And then one day, it occurred to me . . . Why am I still doing this? The kids are long gone. I work every day—just like my husband—and often he doesn’t want to eat what I’ve prepared!

I had failed to plan.

Since failure is not something I like to stare in the face, I started to plan. Two nights a week I would cook, two nights a week he would cook, and two nights a week we would go out. And that left one night for sandwiches.

When considering a sandwich to serve, my husband will tell you it’s all about the bread, which is difficult for me. I’ve been intentionally NOT eating bread since the age of 14. That seems kind of pathetic when I say it out loud, but it’s true. Since I don’t have proper bread knowledge, my husband proceeded to school me. I may have told you before that he’s from New Jersey.

People from New Jersey, or Philadelphia . . . or basically the Northeast . . . think they have a monopoly on bread. Their explanation usually includes something about the water. Once, when we were standing in line for dessert at the local Italian Ice place, my husband quizzed the kid behind the counter about where the ice was made. He said if it was made in Florida, it wouldn’t be good—because of the water.

Well, back to sandwiches. He likes a hoagie made with ham and white American cheese. Dry. NO oil. From the way he explains it, I guess a grinder is a hot sandwich—think cheese steak. In the Northeast, there’s a hoagie shop on every corner. Not to be confused with a grinder shop.

I’m confused.

When I was a kid, I remember when a shop that advertised Submarine Sandwiches opened. There was a picture of a long sandwich outlined like a submarine on their sign. It was a hippy, hand painted sign.  Painted with a brush and a rainbow of colors. What a cool store! After school, I would run across the street to watch the teenagers through the windows. I don’t remember much about the sandwich; it was probably closest to a hoagie. I do remember the blobs of chewing gum lined up on the windowsill next to the front door. Bright orange mounds of Hubba Bubba, neon blue hills of Bubblicious, and screaming pink piles of Big League Chew. I may not have had a sandwich at the shop, but I found the ABC gum irresistible! Don’t judge . . . we didn’t use seatbelts or wear helmets either, but still managed to make it to adulthood. Besides, most of the gum still had some flavor.

Our 2 × 2 × 2 + 1 plan for weekly dinners is working out really well. So well, in fact, I don’t know why we didn’t do it sooner!

And I’ve figured out a way to stay true to my 14-year-old self and my nutritionist.

I’m making lettuce wraps when it’s my turn for sandwich night.

Photo by Terry Jaskiw on Unsplash

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