What’s With The Cream of Wheat?

It’s been a helluva morning, and then I hear this from that portable, rechargeable, bluetooth Altec Lansing speaker I use daily,

“I get weary and sick of tryin’, cause I’m tired of livin’, but I’m afraid of dyin’.”

Now doesn’t that just put the cap on the most memorable morning I’ve had since I began HAMBONESMALLon this journey of mine two weeks ago? I wake up to no power. Then there’s the debacle with breakfast. Now when I’m sitting here trying to recover from situations that I firmly believe don’t deserve to all belong in one day, I hear that. Is something, or someone, out there trying to tell me something I don’t already know? This has definitely put a damper on a glorious Sunday. Now what?

Let me fix another cup of coffee, and I’ll get back to you.

Okay, coffee is next to me, patiently cooling in my favorite chipped cup (the one I’ve had for over 30 years) just waiting for me to sip at it until there’s nothing left to sip. Sip? Nah, I’m just going to drink hell out of it once it cools down.

Let’s begin by addressing that line from a very old song. I just happened to be listening to Jim Croce sing it. I think it was off his 50th Anniversary Collection album.

“I get weary and sick of tryin’, cause I’m tired of livin’, but I’m afraid of dyin’.”

Damn, I hope I never get to that point. Now and then I get a little weary of trying, but I can’t recall a moment when I’ve ever been tired of living. The worst part of it all is that I don’t think I’m afraid of dying, I’m just afraid of being dead. That would mean that I would no longer be living. I rather enjoy living. I hope I never get to the point where I don’t enjoy living. I know there are those that do. I just hope I never join their ranks.

Let’s talk about my morning. After I got the battery issue resolved I figured it was time for breakfast. Yesterday was pancakes (too many) and eggs. This morning was going to be Cream of WheatCream of Wheat. Actually, it was Cream of Wheat—that darling cereal that has been in the diet of a couple of generations of babies.

Here’s where things got, shall we say, sticky. I poured that finely measured dry substance into a boiling pan of water (again, finely measured). I stirred it up and then proceeded to turn my back on my pan of boiling breakfast to connect my hotspot to my portable solar panel (the one I use for hiking and camping—and, you thought camping is the way I live) so that I might access the internet a little later. I want to do a little research for a writing project.

Have you noticed anything, yet? Let me give you a hint. I forgot to turn down the heat underneath the pan of the concoction I had just stirred together. I’m sure you know what happened next. Yep. About a third of my breakfast wound up pooled on my stovetop. That was something I didn’t need on this particular morning. But, the cleanup was going to wait. I was hungry. So I ate.

After I consumed what was left of my breakfast I proceeded to shave, shower, dress, make my bed, and pick up the items I had left strewn about last night. Then I turned my attention to the sink full of dishes and the mess on the stove.

Did you know that Cream of Wheat dries as hard as adobe, and sticks like glue? If you didn’t know that, trust me, it does. I think that is one of it’s selling points. Feed it to your kid and it will stick to their ribs. They won’t be hungry until lunchtime.

It sure does stick if you, like I did, leave it to dry in place. It might be where Elmer got his formula for his glue. Fortunately our bodies are mostly fluid, so I think that the creamy cereal digests just fine. However, the lungs don’t work that way.

The lungs? Yes, my lungs are still trying to get rid of that partial spoonful of the glutinous substance I sucked in when I choked while reading a comic strip I enjoy—Me and The Devil Blues by Grego Anderson. I was doing something I shouldn’t have been doing while attempting to spoon said substance into that hole in my face. I used to be able to chew gum and walk at the same time, but now I’m afraid to try. Suppose I get out of step.

There is a bright side to my morning. You’ll be happy to know that I downloaded Moby Dick, by Herman Melville, last night. It’s my next reading adventure, and I plan on beginning that adventure very soon, as in today. I’ve read the classic before, but it’s been a couple of years. I plan on getting reacquainted with the great white whale. I just hope he remembers me.

Good night, Mrs. Jackson, wherever you are.

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