October 7

I popped into Walmart late this morning to buy some jam. (Since someone who shall remain nameless used up the last of the jam this weekend and didn't tell me, which made making peanut butter and jam sandwiches rather challenging this morning. But I digress as I so often do.) After I grabbed a new squeezie bottle of sticky grape stuff, this caught my eye:

Chef Boyardee Beef Ravioli. One of the lunchtime staples of my childhood. My kids have never had it and I hadn't thought of it in years, so I snapped up a pop-top can, brought it home, and nuked it for lunch. It tasted like mushy canned pasta, of course, but it also tasted like summertime bike rides along The Python, ice cream at the pool, and internalizing how colorful lights on the Christmas tree made patterns on the ceiling above.

My palate is more sophisticated than it was back then, but I really enjoyed it. And more than that, I enjoyed the blessing that was recalling a happy slice of my childhood.