peanut butter and jelly

My co-worker, whom we shall call Victoria (though she is from Uzbekistan), is the 21 year old cleaning lady for the building in which I work. She tells me that she's lived in the United States for four years and has never studied English formally. I LOVE to listen to her tell me stories about her life. She often throws in the phrase "blah blah blah" when she doesn't know a word, which makes the stories even more intriguing. Here's a sample:

"Yesterday, I was talking to Ian, my brother's blah blah blah, and we were talking about Russian music. We both like the style blah blah blah and we watch videos on the blah blah blah about the singers we like."

Victoria is a wonderful person with a warm heart who enjoys bringing in little treats for her co-workers. She also has a sharp eye for the character of others; she can imitate anyone with dead-on precision, making me laugh until I cry. She is also extremely curious to try new experiences, especially ones related to American culture. And today, she tried something uniquely American for the first time.

This morning, I was talking with one of the contractors who regularly visits our building. We were chatting about our lunch plans, and the fact that I had not brought mine despite having a lunch hour before any of the local shops are open. He ribbed me about not making myself a PB&J, at least. Victoria, who happened to be mopping within earshot, asked, "What is the PBJ?" The contractor and I became animated, discussing our deep and abiding devotion to the sandwich we had so loved in childhood. Two homeowners walked by, and catching our conversation, also began to explain the absolute necessity of experiencing the PB & J. At this point, eyes wide with excitement, Victoria was ready to rush off to the nearest corner store to purchase the necessary supplies... but alas, her lunch break was at least two hours away.

For those two hours, I made a point of stopping every person who passed to ask about their opinion of the classic. I could not have set it up better if I'd talked to each person before hand: everyone got a dreamy smile and went on and on about the sandwich as though it were a long lost lover or other cherished item. By noon, Victoria was practically dying to try it. She gathered her coat and purse and rushed out the door. Minutes later, she was sitting in the little break room, slathering crunchy Peter Pan peanut butter and Smuckers strawberry jelly onto cheap, spongy white bread. Rolling her eyes, she told me, "Ohhh! It's sweet and sour together! I will eat it for breakfast every day!" She then started making sandwiches for everyone who would take one (as always- she is generous to a fault).

It's a little thing, I know, a peanut better and jelly sandwich. But it's the blah blah blah that make life so great, isn't it? :)