November 9th, 2004
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Simple pleasures
It has probably been since Pittsburgh that I had a bowl of Cheerios.
That is far too long.
I can’t think of strong enough terms at the moment, but I’ll for now I’ll say I just heartily enjoyed a bowl of Cheerios, thanks to a shopping list care package from Jennifer. Although I’ve pined for the big, yellow box for quite some time, I had nearly forgotten the immense pleasure I derive from a heaping scoop of whole grain oat discs, slathered with a heavy shot of low-fat (or better yet, skim) milk.
I must have hit my head getting off the plane.
These plain, powdery gems have soaked up my saliva ever since Mom plopped me down into that little chair with wheels for the first time. I’d get a sizable amount of the dry goods scattered on my tray, from which I would use awkward, chubby digits to cram every last scrumptious morsel into my drooling mouth. Though my brother and father always had to have the sugary “Honey Nut” strain, I knew better.
Good ol’ plain Cheerios are such a powerful force that man is not the only creature privy to their majesty. My dear departed rabbit (God rest his and screen co-star Rodney Dangerfield‘s souls) was also beset with ravenous lust for General Mills’ culinary apex. Thumper was so motivated to get ahold of as many Cheerios as he could, that if placed in a room with a closed box, he would climb furniture and knock it over in order, placing himself in position to open the flaps with his mouth, so that he could then drag the bag halfway out into the open and bury his face in kibble heaven. Rabbits may or may not be color blind, but all it took was a sighting of a box, or the sound of the meal rattling within, and he would hurl himself against the roof of his house and demand access.
In any case, the Cheerios are mine once more, and I have several boxes on order from the big M&D, so I should be good for a short while [provided I can find something else to do after completing this post].
