I had this whole blog post planned about the way I took my daughter’s raggedy, too-small bike for her to the bike shop to try to get it revived and maybe the duct tape removed from the wheels and the bike shop owner called me to tell me the raggedy bike wasn’t worth saving and my eight year old started crying big crocodile tears because the bike she worked in my dad’s yard for a whole weekend last summer to earn was stolen and now she won’t have a bike and her sisters do, and then how I went past a yard sale to find an adorable, barely ridden bike that was pink and purple and it was only five bucks (Woo Hoo!) and I had it in the trunk when I picked her up from school yesterday and she was all like “you rock mom, you are so cool mom, I love you to pieces mom”. Whew - that was the longest run-on sentence ever. And see Ms. Eighth-grade-English-teacher-whose-name-I-can’t-remember, you said I would never amount to anything. Hmph.

BUT…….

Instead, as I was reading through my must-read blogs today, I came across something completely heavenly at one of my favorites, Chocolatechic. She has recipes to rival this chick, and she has the sweetest.teenage. kids.ever. Seriously, they do things like read the bible off the courthouse steps on the National Day of Prayer and play cards with their mom and her son once made homemade PopTarts. That’s all I think I have to say about that. I mean homemade PopTarts, people, come on.

She has a recipe for Peanut Butter Pie today. Peanut Butter Pie. The greatest invention since sliced bread. Okay, it is better than sliced bread, who am I kidding? When I was a teenager, I worked in the small little restaurant in town, which doubled as the only little restaurant in town. ( I grew up in the boonies, okay) We had a lady that came in and made all our pies for the week on Sunday. Mary, the owner, would let us all have a piece of pie on Sunday night after close. I was 16 years old and worked 10 hour days on Sunday. That is like 48 straight hours in teenage time. Every single Sunday I thought I would die right outside the doors of the Butler Restaurant from exhaustion, or from the smell of Fried Chicken that seeped from my pores. But what made it all better was that Peanut Butter Pie.

I made a comment on her blog as I usually so and that is when I heard mention of PBLoco. And then my life changed forever. PBLoco sells gourmet Peanut Butter. Like White Chocolate Raspberry Peanut Butter, Peanut Butter with Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. No you are not seeing things :: that is really what I typed. Gourmet Peanut Butter.

Somewhere, Elvis is sitting in his darkened room in his governmentally protected house ordering from PBLoco in someone else’s name.

And if that sentence doesn’t make sense to you, you have no right to call yourself an Elvis Presley fan.