Wednesday, October 05, 2011
Tomblin won the West Virginia race and David Catanese has an analysis of it here.
Now for the important stuff.
I was one of eight kids.
There were no cereal prizes for me!!!!
Tonight's topic is a theme topic. Some will be mentioning it at their sites in passing (like Trina who's got a lot to cover already) and others (like me) will make it the full focus of their post. The theme: Cereal.
It can be from childhood or today but something about it that stands out. (Rebecca came up with the topic.)
So big Irish Catholic family. Eight kids. And don't think we ate Raisin Bran, okay? That would be like a delicacy.
We ate plain old corn flakes. If we were lucky, these were name brand corn flakes and not the generic store brand. (I have nothing against generic store brands but anyone who's eaten the generic corn flakes -- and I've had every brand there is in my life -- knows they are not as fresh as the ones from Post or Kellogs.)
We had raspberry and blackberry bushes. How? I don't know. They were wild. And across the street, they didn't grow because the woman right across the street was forever getting a cutting of one of the bushes to try to get it to take over in her yard.
So when those were producing -- seems like it was about 3 months a year -- we'd be able to have that with the milk and corn flakes. We'd pick our own at night, wash them and put them in the fridge in our own little sandwich bags. With our names on them after the big fight between two of my brothers.
And we often had a lot of bananas so we could usually count on those at least once a week (cut 'em up and drop them in the bowl with the flakes and milk).
But mainly we went crazy with the sugar.
My parents are both coffee drinkers and if it's a Saturday the two of them will knock out three pots of coffee before they're done reading the morning paper.
My father adds six spoonfuls of sugar to his coffee (actually, he uses Splenda today, but back then he used sugar). So they weren't about to say much to us kids about putting three or four spoonfuls of sugar on top of those stale corn flakes.
However, when my grandparents moved in, my grandmother made a huge deal about it. She did this for about three weeks until one day my father put down the paper, cleared his throat and told her to worry about what she was eating and leave everyone else alone. She got so mad and she left the table. But she never brought up the sugar again.
And I'm sorry but corn flakes that are stale when you open the plastic bag get even more stale and tasteless as you work through the box. (We always bought the HUGE box and even so we'd go through three of those a week.)
There's no way we could have managed to eat some of those brands of corn flakes without that sugar.
To this day, Frosted Flakes is comfort food for me because it reminds me of how sweet I'd get my corn flakes. And the only thing better than that is drinking the milk after. Oh, it's so sweet.
Closing with C.I.'s "Iraq snapshot:"