Yesterday was a wretched day. Just an awful, awful day. I drove home last night blinking back tears and severely longing for my mom who always makes everything all better. Unfortunately, Mom lives some 2000 miles away. So next best thing on a terrible day is to curl up in fetal position in bed and feel sorry for myself. HOWEVER, I am an adult and resort to fetal-curling only in the most necessary of circumstances, like when it's snowing. I guess the only thing left to do if Mom and fetal position are off the table is comfort food.
Ah, yes. Here it is:
I usually have these in sandwich form, but I didn't want all those carbs to get in the way of my enjoyment of the fat and sodium so I had it hors d'oeuvres-style: the pb smeared right on the pickle. Mmm. So yummy. Oh, and mustn't forget the beverage: a tall cold glass of milk.
Oh, that's much better.
It's almost as if Mom was here after all.