As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection: a thick slab of ham on a fresh bun with crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The corners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the table, sat down, picked it up with both hands but then, I was stopped by my wife who was suddenly standing at my side.
"Here, hold Bobby (our six-week-old son) while I get my sandwich," she said.
I had him balanced between my left elbow and shoulder and was reaching again for the ham sandwich when I noticed a streak of mustard on my fingers.
I really love mustard.... I had no napkin.... I licked it off.
It was not mustard!!!
No man ever put a baby down faster. I sprinted to the sink with my tongue protruding. With a washcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do; only I did it on my tongue.
Later, after she stopped crying from laughing so hard, my wife said, "Well at least now you know why they call that fancy mustard "Poupon."
---- PAWNEE DAN --- ---
Sometimes I just sits and thinks,
and sometimes I just sits. . . . .