We had a debate at the teacher lunch table yesterday concerning a cookbook. Because that's what we highbrow, hoity-toity educators do in our idle moments.
The whole thing started with a book in the teacher workroom. It was on a display rack set up by a vendor who drops in once or twice a month with books to sell. In fact, we have two such vendors who seem to be competing for floor space. But since none of us have time to hang out in the workroom due to all the work we have to get done in our rooms, the petite blockade does not affect our productivity. There is still a clear path to the copy machine.
While waiting for copies, I picked up the cookbook. I can't remember the name, but it was catchy enough to make me choose it over more scholarly works. The page that fell open had...wait for it...the high-demand recipe...you know you want it...for...a ham sandwich! After my initial reaction of WTF, I put that book back on the rack faster than a sixteen-year-old boy yanks his hand away from his buddy's hand when they accidentally touch while digging into the chip basket at a Mexican restaurant. A ham sandwich recipe? Totally ludicrous.
At lunch, I sat down beside my colleague as he bit into his own ham sandwich. He was in the process of receiving a regular ribbing for making his ham sandwich with a hot dog bun. Arch Nemesis hauled her carcass to the table, and what did she have under her arm but the offending cookbook. With no mincing of words, I told her that even she had no need for that instructional tome. Because anybody knows that a person who needs a recipe for a ham sandwich probably won't be able to read such an advanced directive.
Arch flipped open that book and exclaimed, "Look! Another one! Hot Buns: Open four hot dog buns. Lay slices of ham on each bun. Place a cheese slice on top of the ham. Cover with foil. Heat until cheese is melted."
I turned to the bun man. "You could totally write a cookbook!"