Warning: This blog may contain nuts and is rated PG (or is it PB?)

Sitting down to a cup of tea and watching a bit of TV after work, eating a decadent dessert, or having someone pour you a cup of coffee; these are some of the simple pleasures of life!

Lately, I've been known to say, 'It's funny that 'they' say, don't sweat the small stuff, but isn't it ironic that it's the little things that count?' Oh sure, I can get all 'airy fairy' and talk about the beauty of watching little toddlers walk on feet that seem too small to withstand the weight of their bodies, or gush as I witness magnolia trees blossoming at the first blush of spring. I can wax poetic about the birds that warble as the sun rises each morning, or the majesty of a sunset over a lake. There are countless mini miracles in this world that delight and make us feel thankful that we're alive to experience them. But despite what one may feel is an endless list, one of these wonders stands out among all the others. That is, of course, the infinite, sinful, and dare I suggest sensual pleasure derived from being the lucky one to open a brand new, virginal jar of peanut butter.

Come and share this fantasy with me............

It's lunch time. Walking into the kitchen not knowing what to eat, it all of a sudden dawns on me that I have new jar of peanut butter, waiting to be opened. Not only that, I realize that I have fresh bread, too! That's it, I decide, I know what I want and I want it now! Filled with sudden desire, I yearn to find my love. I need to find my love.

Instinctively, I dash to the cupboard, fling open the doors and begin calling, 'Where are you?' to no avail. I frantically shove aside some tuna cans and tomato sauce jars, searching longingly and furiously, for within the myriad of boxes of pasta and tins of mushroom soup I know it must be there. All of a sudden, I espy my love's familiar colours and hear a beckoning call from behind a bag of sugar. I push the interloper away with an heroic gesture to expose my heart's desire. Yes, dear peanut butter, we have been reunited at last!

As my hands nervously approach the jar sitting demurely on the shelf, I immediately become filled with the anticipation and expectation of enjoying the fruit (legume) on the inside of the container. My love is as alluring as ever. With baited breath, I quickly, yet lovingly remove the lid, and ta-da! the jar is ajar.

Well, almost.

Just when I believe that I have been triumphant in getting to the gold, a chink in the armour appears. A second layer prevents me from the treasure...that is the tease known as the protective seal. I hate that seal; nevertheless, I begin by using my fingers to pry it open. When that doesn't work (and as I struggle with it I wonder if maybe 'they' don't want us to be able to open it. Maybe it's a plot!), I use my teeth to start it off (fine, so don't eat it at my house...more for me!...Doesn't matter, because it doesn't work anyway). When all of that fails, and it does, I grab a knife and start stabbing the stupid piece of cardboard like I'm Norman Bates. At least that works. Finally and with great satisfaction, I locate the Holy Grail. My eyes widen and a knowing smile appears on my face.

Let's pause for a moment to allow me to relish (I know, wrong condiment) at the marvel, as this pristine peanut butter is 'splayed* naked before me.

First, my eyes behold the beauty of it's smooth lines (I'm not into the chunky brands, so go with this visual for the moment) and shiny coating (and please, do not tell me why it looks that way). Those beautiful machines get that peanut butter in the jar so perfectly and artistically that it looks almost too good to eat (notice that I said, almost).

And then, I'm hit with its intoxicating smell! Did I mention peanut butter's mouth-watering aroma? That fabulous bouquet tickles my olfactory sense to the point of complete distraction. Ok, enough already! I can't stand it anymore! The foreplay is over. It is time!

I'm going out on a limb here to let you know that other than mixing peanut butter with chocolate (and frankly this isn't the forum for discussing that, because ladies don't talk about that in public) I'm a boring purist. I'm old fashioned. Yes, there are the jam lovers and (gasp) the banana people (not that there's anything wrong with that!). I, of course allow room for personal tastes, but at the same time fervently believe that peanut butter can stand alone on two pieces of fresh bread. I believe in simplicity. My only variation comes when I'm sick, and that's when I like my bread toasted. That way, when the peanut butter lands on the warm surface, it begins to melt and ooze out the sides. Be still my heart.......

Focus! Two slices of fresh bread stand ready. The knife is poised in my hand. After all the waiting, I'm finally there. No more anticipation. I am primed. My excitement is at a feverous pitch. I take that knife, and deftly, expertly guide it toward my goal. The knife dips into that jar and...Woo hoo! Nirvana!

It's complete and utter ecstasy! The satisfaction of being the first person to dig into that jar is positively and utterly tremendous. It's like dipping into a pool on a hot day, or getting into a hot shower on a cold one, or like........

.......sitting down to a cup of tea and a chocolate after work (what did you think I was going to say?).

I'm far too exhausted to discuss that first bite of my ever-so-perfect sandwich. Besides, some things must remain private. Simple pleasures, indeed!

*sic on the apostrophe...made up that double entendre