Hotdog buns

There are few loves in life, like the love of something that is consistently the same all your life.  For me that is hot dogs.  I love hot dogs.  Growing up, they were the cheapest form of protein that I could have and afford.  I mean, when I was younger, you could go to Aldi's and get a pack of hot dogs and a loaf of bread for under a dollar.  If you add another dime or so, you can get a soda for fifteen cents.  Hot dogs were a staple, like rice and potatoes.  Though we ate hot dogs, we never bought hot dog buns.  My mother thought them to be a waste.  Why buy buns when the hot dogs taste just as good on bread.  I don't even remember feeling bad about hot dogs on bread.  At other people's home, I had buns and at school, I had buns, but never at home.  I am remembering this now because I am at a place of blessing where buns are no longer a luxury.  They aren't something you get when you go to your rich aunt's house.  Buns are a part of my life like good soap, and fine perfume, and fresh fish, and medicine.  I have to strain my brain to remember when bread was my only option.  I have more options than I have ever had in my life.  I have more money than I ever had in my life and I don't have to shop low, but I still do just to save a few dollars here and there.  God can bless you so well, that you have to strain to remember the way we were.