As part of our Cucina Povera thing we've got going on, I've been packing lunches for us in the mornings. (And no, I did not pick up a part-time gig flipping burgers -- although it does kind of sound appealing. Steven got me a t-shirt from his work.)
At first, I was always in a tremendous rush -- throwing around deli meats and sandwich bags in a crazed frenzy to get out the door on time. But now I've settled into a nice little routine that even allows me to eat a bowl of cereal before I leave the house.
And, following in my Mom's footsteps, I write our initials in Sharpie on the outside of the brown lunch bag. A big Sharpie "S" for Steven, and a big Sharpie "H" for Heather.
I set the brown bags on the counter right next to each other one morning, lined up all pretty and neat, and I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I stepped back to admire my work, and Steven took one look at the bags and said, thoughtfully, "You know, we really shouldn't name our kids Ivan and Thomas, or anything."
It took me nearly a full cup of coffee before I caught the joke. But when I did, it was darned funny.