I do not know who decided that today is National Sandwich Day, but I do know that I like that person a whole lot more than the person who double-booked November 3 with National Housewife Day.
How did I not know about this? As a person who is quite fond of celebrating the littler special days and one who also happens to be a pretty big fan of these portable culinary marvels, I can’t believe this crept up on me before I was able to arrange a sandwich sharing schedule to maximize opportunities for celebration. To be honest, I was far more aware of today’s significance as an irrelevantly assigned, yet very important, friendiversary on which we will drink wine, wear hats, listen to The Sound of Music, and try to fit into my fireplace (we’re celebrating a day late this year). It’s fun. I was not aware that other gifts of the earth were so especially deserving of my celebration on this day.
I’m not normally on board with the fake holidays. While friends shared cute baby pictures of themselves with their brothers and sisters on National Sibling Day last year, I posed with a paused TV screen and claimed soul sisterhood with my girl LL. Hallmark doesn’t make cards for this or for National Cat Day or for any other “national” days that are made up by whoever benefits from everyone using social media at once. Something about ads? Clicks? I don’t know. If you want to show affection for your sibling, do it more than the one day when everyone and her brother are doing it. I think cat owners are already doing enough for the internet without this type of encouragement. And, yes, I suppose every day is National Sandwich Day if you are right with Jesus and eating sammiches on the reg, but because I don’t have siblings or cats, and because this one is important to meeee, I hereby declare this fake holiday the exception.
Because sandwiches are wonderful. Sandwiches bring together a medley of delicious ingredients of varying crunch (put potato chips on it!) and juiciness, inviting seemingly contradictory flavors to meet and mingle between two glorious carbohydrate segments to present me (and you, too, beloved sandwich-eater), with exactly what I want: to have it all. 
This is one of many lessons that Liz Lemon helped to imprint upon my heart. It is tough to juggle all the things. It is easier to drop most of the things and just go with what you can carry and maybe come back and pick up the scraps later if you have time, but you’ll probably be tired and might go to sleep with your feet hanging off the bed and your shoes still on. You wonder how you will make space for all the things so you don’t have to leave anything behind, but it’s tricky. Occasionally you’ll manage an impressive amount at once and you’ll feel very accomplished but later realize these are all the things you wish had fallen on the floor a long time ago. You’ll wonder why it seems like everyone else gets to do it all and look great doing it. You’ll remember that you are enough and you’ll eat a sandwich. The sandwich is beautiful and weird and it will probably come with french fries (or at least very good kettle chips). When you take a bite, especially if you cut it in half like a responsible and intelligent life force, you’ll taste bacon, lettuce, tomato, basil mayo//turkey, apple, brie, cranberry relish, honey mustard//seared scallop, jalapeño tapenade, caramelized onions, crisp lettuce, garlic aioli — all in perfect proportion in one simple life-giving bite. And you realize that you can have it all and that you already do.
the sandwich evangelist 