[This week we are strolling down memory lane, repeating the =
Grif Net email/blog posts for an ENTIRE WEEK from 25 years ago – May 2000.]=
As ham sandwiches go, it was perfection. A thick slab of ham, a fresh bun,=
crisp lettuce and plenty of expensive, light brown, gourmet mustard. The c=
orners of my jaw aching in anticipation, I carried it to the picnic table i=
n our backyard, picked it up with both hands but was stopped by my wife who=
was suddenly at my side.
"Hold Johnny (our six-week-old son) while I=
fix 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 s=
treak of mustard on my fingers.
&nb=
sp;
I love mustard.
I had no napkin.
I licked =
it off.
It was not mustard.
No man ever put a baby down faster.
It was th=
e first and only time I have sprinted with my tongue protruding. With a was=
hcloth in each hand, I did the sort of routine shoeshine boys do, only I di=
d it on my tongue.
Later, (after she stopped crying from laughing so hard)=
my wife said, "Now you know why they call that mustard ‘Poupon.’=
~~
Dr. Bob Griffin
“Abhorring all my sin, ado=
ring only Him”
[email protected] =
www.grif.net