Penny For Your Thoughts

I had to be out early the other morning (you know, the other morning), so I went the drive through route for a quick breakfast. My change was to be $7.30 after I gave the attendant a twenty. "I don't have any pennies. Is that okay?"

"Fine," I replied. I don't why she felt she had to tell me that, though, seeing as the quarter and nickel she handed me for the thirty cents literally, uh, foot the bill for my change.

She probably has gotten used to telling that to most everyone I'm sure. Perhaps management insists upon it. Still, the instant she apologized about the lack of cents (a pun!) I did find myself thinking, what's that to me, given the circumstances? Oh well.

A Peach of a Morning

Me Pops liked to tell stories. Some of them were even on himself. He once got in trouble with me Grandma Cosgriff, his mother, for eating peaches.

It's true. One morning, Dad always said it was when he was 14, he woke up early and hungry. Grandma as it were had bought a can of peaches. Once Pops spied them on the pantry shelf, their destiny was sealed. They would end up supporting the growth of a strapping teen age boy.

Oh, did I mention that it was a gallon of peaches? And that me young Pops ate the whole syrupy lot?

Grandma was furious. That gallon can was to be dessert for everyone at that evening's supper. It was meant for the whole family, Grandpa Joe and Grandma Cosgriff and all eight kids. And Dad scarfed the entire thing down before breakfast. Which, when served, he ate too.

Joe for his part thought it was hilarious. Dad always seemed overly proud of the accomplishment as well. Yet in telling the tale he never said what Grams did about it. But I tell you what: even I can see the look on her face.

Like A Kid Again

I've always liked my meals simple. Throw a couple of slices of bologna between a couple other slices of wheat bread and slather on some Duke's mayo and I'm set for lunch. For dinner, I'm content to toss microwaveable food on microwaveable plates and bowls and have at it in no time. Even breakfast can be very simple. Set the kettle on and boil water for instant oatmeal and I can be eating in minutes.

Yet I've discovered another easy breakfast, one designed especially for you chocolate lovers out there. Just get your favorite chocolate cereal, even the one featuring that annoying bird (all right, all right, you're cuckoo for them. We get it. Now shut up), fill a  bowl, but only put about half the milk in. Your reward is chocolate milk almost as thick a Hershey bar when you're done. All that glorious chocolate just sinks right down into the milk. 

Chocolate overload. It's not just for breakfast anymore. But it tastes best then.

Ketchup With Phil

On the road yesterday with me brother Phil in tow and having greatly overestimated the time we would need make an appointment in Fort Wayne, Indiana, we decided to get breakfast at a little diner in Napoleon, Ohio.

We sat down at a booth, and the server brought us menus and coffee. The waitress took our orders soon after that, then soon after that she brought our breakfasts. "Would you guys like ketchup?" she asked.

I laughed out loud. "You don't know the in joke, but yes, we would like it. Me brother here uses a lot." 

She gave us ketchup in a large bottle. The young woman turned away as Phil took it and absolutely slathered his plate of food with it. Think an absurd amount of ketchup, and just a but more after that.

The waitress came by a few minutes later. "Is everything okay, oh my, that's a lot of ketchup!"

"And now you're in on the joke," I quipped.

I Think, Therefore I Think Too Much

I think we worry too much. 

I think we overthink things too much.

I think we overanalyze too often.

I think I'll go to breakfast. There's no chance of me doing any of that there. 

Until I see the menu. Then all that thinking will interfere with simply ordering food. 

You know what I mean. There's just too many ways you can make an omelette. Or prepare eggs. Or have bacon or sausage of ham. Or white, wheat, or rye toast. Or coffee or orange juice. It's neverending.

It's a cereal morning

I elected to have breakfast cereal this morning. My selection was easy, as the only cereal in the house was a bag of knock off Lucky Charms. And there was no milk so I ate it dry. I figure saved some calories. No milk ought to make up for all the added sugar.

I don't eat cereal a lot anymore, and there is one cereal which I will never eat again: Cinnamon Toast Crunch. You know why? It's because for the last several years that cereal's advertising has featured pieces of Cinnamon Toast Crunch ambushing and eating one another. That's just sick. Any breakfast food which tries to sell itself on cannibalism is more than I can stomach.

I will not apologize for that pun. It's too delicious.

As was that one. No apology there either.