"I Like Peanut Butter, Creamy Peanut Butter"

I love peanut butter.
Let me rephrase that... me encanta cacahuate (essentially, "I am fascinated/enchanted by peanut butter").
Peanut butter is pretty much the source of all happiness, joy, and fulfillment in my life.

Besides God (#1).
Maybe family, also (#2).
We can't forget coffee (#3).
Well... it's almost the source of all happiness, joy, and fulfillment in my life.
But anyway... back to peanut butter.

This soft, creamy, tub of goodness comes from many different companies... but I happen to prefer Peter Pan Peanut Butter... so much so that I purchased a small container from one of the mega-soul-eating-superstores that I loathe so much, but use because I am poor, it's convenient, and I have yet to search out smaller, quality stores in my new location that don't gobble up millions of dollars a day, trampling small, individually-owned businesses completely into the ground by selling everything from hardware to face powder and then some.

Don't worry... I berate myself enough over this.
Anyway... back to peanut butter.

So, I purchased this exquisite container of euphoria with its yellow, plastic top, and dainty Tinkerbelle adorning the side, and jauntily headed home, dreaming of a toasted blueberry bagel, layered with a thick spreading of peanut butter, accompanied by the hot, black taste of Arabic coffee.

Life was good.

The next morning I got to my office on campus, opened the sealed container, scooped out a large spoonful of peanut-buttery-goodness, and swallowed it down with gusto.

And that evening... I got very, very sick.
I won't go into the gory details... but it's the sickest I have been in YEARS.

Figuring I had a touch of flu (it was over in 36 hours, although my stomach muscles ached for three days), I let the incident pass from my mind, registering somewhere in my memory as "The January Sickness of '07... Cookie Tossing in the New Year."

And then yesterday... the phone rang:

"Hey, Steph! It's Mom & Grandma Mildred... you haven't called in three weeks... blah, blah, blah..."

"Yeah, I know, Mom... I've been buying peanut butter... blah, blah, blah..."

"Hey, did you know that Peter Pan Peanut Butter has salmonella??? Blah, blah, blah..."

(INTERRUPTING) "What???"

"Oh yeah... and Great Value brand, too... wasn't that it, Mom [Grandma Mildred]??? Blah, blah, blah..."

(INTERRUPTING YET AGAIN) "Hold on... I have some Peter Pan Peanut Butter... how do you guys know this?"

"Oh, they're having a huge recall... it's all over the news... with #2111 on the top... does yours say #2111 on the top??? You better check because you could die, and what a stupid way to die through eating peanut butter of all things, and... WAIT... did I send you peanut butter in that care package??? Did I??? Well... I... I can't believe it! How does that sound??? Me trying to kill my own daughter... oh dear... blah, blah, blah..."

"NO, Mom... I bought the Peter Pan stuff... you got me Skippy..."

"Oh, thank goodness... you better get rid of that other stuff right away..."

(INSERT LIGHT BULB CLICKING ON IN MY BRAIN)

"Hey! You know when I got really sick??? THAT was probably the reason... I ate the peanut butter that day!!!"

(INSERT MOM & GRANDMA MAKING SYMPATHETIC CLUCKING NOISES WITH THEIR TONGUES.)

"Well, darling, that's probably true... now, just go throw it away... blah, blah, blah..."

When I got to my office this morning, I glanced sadly at the jaunty, little poison-filled bottle of death housed in my Peter Pan Peanut Butter container... and I almost cried as I read the numbers 2111 on the top.

Life for me will never be the same... until I have salmonella-free Peter Pan Peanut Butter's soft, creamy goodness back in my diet. And who knows when that will happen if people are actually dying from it...

How unfair.
How piteously unbalanced.
For really... what is life without Peter Pan Peanut Butter???