no. (roses_rejoice) wrote,

Baby, food.

Today I ate some oatmeal on a whim. Not sure why I did that except Au Bon Pain-in-the-ass has a new oatmeal bar and the oatmeal vat looked better than all the available soups. You can put sprinkly things like sugar and raisins in it if you can get them unwelded from the containers without breaking the plastic serving spoons and without taking so much time that you piss everybody off who is waiting. I put in too many chocolate chips, forgetting that they would all melt in the hot oatmeal thus making mocha mush, but it still wasn't too bad. I have traditionally hated oatmeal since infancy; in fact this might have been the first bowl I ate since spitting it all over the walls at age 1 (so I'm told). Then again, when I was little nobody ever made the real oaty oatmeal with nubbly grains. Instead it was all smooth lumpless Cream of Wheat that, like many too-smooth foods (yogurt, bananas, pudding) makes me slightly to very nauseous. Or instant oatmeal, which is about as tasty as instant coffee.

I also ate a jelly donut. Jelly donuts always remind me of when I was very little, like 4 or 5, because they're the only kind of donut my mom would ever buy for her and me. I always wanted one with the chocolate on top and the white cream (not icky yellow Boston creme) inside, but she told me they were "too rich" or something. I did finally get to try that kind but prolly not till I was at least 7 or 8. And I hated the glazed donuts and fried cakes then. So we always had jelly donuts. Nowadays I eat one or two sometimes because I want a donut, but also sometimes because I am tired or sad or missing my mom. Same for Milky Way bars because that's the only candy bar she ever bought me. Sometimes she would buy Snickers for herself but would tell me, "It has nuts in it, you wouldn't like it." I wonder if that was a trick to keep the candy for herself? ;) No, more likely she really thought I didn't like nuts (Maybe I didn't then, she didn't buy peanut butter with crunchy nuts in it either) or was afraid little me would choke on them. I liked the Milky Ways fine, but it's so funny that I never even thought about trying a Snickers bar till I was about 10 or 11, at which time I discovered I liked them just fine too.

So many things remind me of when I was little. My friend lou_muenz put up a picture of his mom taking his sister sledding sometime in the 50's. That reminded me of when my mom used to take me sledding just a few years later---Lou's mom in the pic looks enough like my mom did then to be her relative, and I had snowsuits just like Lou's sister, which I recall hating because they were scratchy nylon and hard to get in and out of. I have to be careful how much I think about nostalgic stuff because eventually I start to miss my parents, especially my dad who has been dead forever at this point (at least I can pick up the phone if I miss mom too much) and the way it used to be in general...which leads to missing Dead Guy and I get to be a soppy mess if I'm not careful. I have one memory of a holiday, a Memorial Day I think it was, when we were all together. My mom was always crabby around holidays because my dad didn't want to Do Anything like celebrate or cook out, and then he got sick and couldn't physically barbeque or picnic even if he'd wanted to (which he didn't---I suppose if he'd really Wanted to he would have figured out a way) so I invited Dead Guy over to barbeque a chicken in our big ol' charcoal grill that hadn't been used for about 10 years at that point. Dead Guy really enjoyed cooking in general and bbqing in particular and was pretty dern good at it. One of his surprising talents. By the time he made it over that day with about 5 bottles of stuff to mix together for the chicken sauce, my mom was already cranky about Dad's attitude and who I was dating and her existence in general, and I was depressed about her being cranky and probably other angsty stuff that I can't remember what it was (Dead Guy's drinking? My weight? The fact that Some Other Dude---there was usually Some Other Dude, I'm poly, deal--- wasn't calling me back?). Dead Guy could see everybody was tense and I was upset so he was being super sweet and enthusiastic and telling me don't worry, he would take care of everything, just show him where the chicken and the charcoal grill were. Right at that moment, oh joy of joys, it began to rain. So we pushed the grill inside the garage door and he sat out there in that tweed suitcoat he wore literally everywhere because it had a pocket for his cigs, basting away at the chicken on the spit, and every time I looked out the back door to check on him he'd smile and wave at me, down the driveway, through the rain. One of those memories that didn't seem too important at the time, but in retrospect, is.
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