I offered to make the sandwiches that we bought ingredients for on Saturday. We’d gone out to get coffee with a Starbucks gift card and Graham wanted to walk over to Fresh Market. I asked if it was close and he said it was. About halfway there, I told him it was not as close as I thought it would be. It was windy and even thought my hair was pulled back it was still blowing all over my face and getting stuck in my lip balm. I told him I wish we hadn’t walked. I told him I want to make him as annoyed with me as I am with the wind.
When we got there, three guys were standing outside the store beside the Fresh Market. One of them put a lit cigarillo gently on the ground beside a pillar. I told Graham he should run back and steal it from them. He said no. I told him to run back and stomp on it. He laughed and said no to that too. The inside of the grocery store was much better than the outside. My mood improved as we looked at all the expensive produce and salad dressings. There were citrus fruits called something like Buddha’s hands and cranberries in miniature bogs. We decided to get pesto, ciabatta rolls, and goat cheese to make sandwiches with the shredded crock pot chicken I’d made yesterday and the capicola Graham had brought from home.
I set the oven on broil while I sliced the ciabatta rolls and got out the other ingredients. I browned the outsides of the rolls then turned them over to put in the fillings. I toasted them open faced like that and accidentally got the edges of the bread too crispy. It was still good though. Graham put on a documentary he had saved on my Netflix about a race through the mountains in Tennessee called the Barkley Marathons. I believe that was also the name of the documentary. I didn’t like the man who created the race very much, as he seemed to make it difficult just for his enjoyment. He mentioned at the end that he couldn’t even do part of the race. I guess I support the people who can do it, but I just don’t understand why anyone would want to.