The Snack Trade

It looked to be a sunny day with a 40% chance of t-storms in the afternoon. I brought my umbrella as a rabbit’s foot against rain. Seri and I were matched up with a lone OMG (old man golfer). Weekdays before 2pm, it’s all OMGs on the course. This particular dude was nice enough to shoot from the yellow tees so we could play a little faster. I was walking, of course. Seri rode and had her insulated zip-top cooler packed with a special snack that she’d made for us – organic jam sandwiches grilled with butter. It’s hard to capture the essence of a sandwich in a picture, but I will try:

Food, and I don’t care what it is, really does taste better when someone else makes it for you. As someone who spends a certain amount of time cooking for another person, namely a husband, who thank goodness is not a picky eater but does occasionally complain about not enough salt, I really appreciate when someone else prepares food for me. Bea had once brought along an extra sandwich and gave it to me during one of our rounds. She said the sandwich was “very plain” since it was just white bread with cold cuts and no condiments, but I thought it was delicious, like ambrosia wrapped in tin foil. Also, I was really hungry and it got me through the next nine holes.

When Seri showed me the jam sandwich, I was not yet hungry, but I knew I would be after a couple of hours. Part of me thought, darn, Seri outdid me again with the snacks. You see, when I first met her, she had introduced me to packaged tiramisu cakes from the Korean store, and I followed up by bringing her packaged Italian tiramisu cakes from the gourmet grocery. Then she brought along a slew of other Korean snacks like chestnut rice cakes and teddy bear-shaped cookies, and I countered with a 6-pack of Oreos (which she devoured) and some Fig Newtons. 

But now, with this homemade sandwich-making, and a grilled sandwich nonetheless, Seri seems to have brought the snack trade to a whole new level. I don’t know what my next move will be, but I think I could work the beverage angle. Perhaps bottled iced coffee or something along those lines.

Anyway, the promise of a grilled butter and jam sandwich set the tone for the round. Knowing there was such comforting decadence in the near future, I was quite focused, despite the tiny gnats that buzzed around the brim of my hat. My driver didn’t embarrass me, my 7-wood was en fuego and even my putting wasn’t pitiful. In the end, I shot a 97, adding to the growing tally of times I have broken 100. On the downside, it was pretty hot out there in the sun, and at the end of the day, I got sunburn and a heat headache, and my golf glove smelled like a foot. But not before I got my mitts on that yummy sammy.