Susan

I have a friend named Susan. She's one of my favorite people on earth. So sweet, thoughtful, kind, eternal-minded. . . and blushing somewhere in Texas about now. In fact, she may not finish reading this.

And that may be good. Because this post isn't so much eternal minded. And not much about her. Just food. And questions about food.

Questions. . . Like, why does Peanut Butter get two of the letters in PBJ and Jam only gets one? Poor Jam. There are only two fillings, they should get equal billing, see what I'm saying? Not to mention the poor bread who gets no credit at all, when it works behind the scenes holding it all together. I can't blame it for dribbling on the chin now and again. I likely would, too.

Or, why does Susan only have one eye? Poor little one eyed Susan. You finally reach the pinnacle of your life: A breakfast food is named for you. . . and that's the one you get? The Cyclops of the breakfast world?

Well, not any more, folks. Not any more.



Righting wrongs. Changing history. One late night snack food at a time.

(Okay, it looks like E.T. with a massive brain aneurism. You have to trust me on this one. My friend is way cuter. WAY. I'm working out the details on the aesthetics.)