I love oatmeal. I had oatmeal for breakfast this morning. There is no better way to start your day then with a nice warm bowl of oatmeal.
Oatmeal is like a comfortable old sweatshirt. That one that is in the back of your closet. You wear it when you feel lonely or sick or just want to curl up and watch TV. It's like your favorite blanket. It is like going home. Oatmeal can warm you from the inside out. It is a space heater for your tummy. Oatmeal makes you feel so good it makes you say words like tummy and not feel silly about it.
You go to the cupboard and open it up. There it is. The familiar red and blue, round box. The one you used to make into toy drums when you were young. You see the kindly old face of Mr. Quaker man and you already get that warm fuzzy feeling that you had as a kid getting ready for school. The water boils and you pour the flaky substance in. It foams up into a rolling boil, tumbling over its self. The smell wafts into the air. You stir until the foam is gone. It is ready.
You spoon it into a bowl. Bananas and brown sugar? Maybe blue berries, butter and white sugar? Today, cranberries and brown sugar. It was nummy. I threw the dried cranberries into the water as it boiled. They plumped back up and their tartness popped into my mouth with every bite. My tummy full and happy, I am ready to take on the day.
If you were expecting part two of Mia, I'm sorry but I got a little distracted. I will continue my Mia story, she's a big cat and needed more than one blog. But not today.
I know that going on and on about oatmeal will never earn me the distinction of becoming a blog of note, but I just write what I feel. Today, I am feeling the love of oatmeal. It is very cold here in Illinois today. Willie is still sick. Better than yesterday, but still sick. Bazinga still needs to be walked, out in that bitter weather, every few hours. I needed oatmeal today and it came through for me once again. Thank you old friend. You never fail me, you keep me going on these long winter days.