I was a pretty conservative little kid growing up.
I didn't climb trees or fences. I made my friends sit through the credits at the end of movies. I thought it was a good idea to leave for school early to see if there was anything the teacher needed help with before class. I loved classical music. And the only cereal I would eat was Wheaties.
Okay...maybe not so much conservative as boring and nerdy.
But in hindsight, the Wheaties thing was probably some type of catalyst for me. Sure, it probably started because of Bruce Jenner on the box. But something stuck.
Flash forward several decades. I'm in the cereal aisle at Walmart. I reach for the Wheaties, but something compells me to continue searching. Searching. Searching.
And there it is. Like a light in the dark.
Frankenberries.
With guilt, and perhaps a little shame, a grabbed the box.
At home, I placed the childish box on the top shelf, perhaps hoping that I would forget about my impetuous move. But, alas, I gave in to it's tempting call...
I opened the protective bag, and a "poof" of fruity, sugary heaven wafted towards my nose. My gosh...it smelled...wonderful!
The colorful pink and red morsels crashed to the bottom of my bowl. Then, in one fateful moment, I drowned them in a wash of fat free milk. Hopefully, the fat free would counteract the spike of sugar about to enter my system.
Then, the seductive dance began. I dipped my spoon, and out of the ceramic tomb arose the glistening breakfast treat. The light from the flourescent kitchen bulb hit just right, making it look like a work of art from DaVinci himself!
Then...then I ate it. One bite. Then the next. I couldn't stop. It was delicious! Is this what I missed during my childhood years? Would my life had differed had I plunged into the world of sugar ladened cereals instead of my old friend Wheatie?
I do not know.
But I do know this...I think I'll have another bowl.
After a lengthy sabatical, he sits in front of his computer, fingers ready at the keyboard. So much to say...so much to write. Topics race wildly through his mind, each fighting for the right to take their rightful place on the field of honor...the blog. Many will read the entries. Some will cry. Some will laugh. But one thing is certain...he must write, because he is...the Media Pastor.
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1 comment:
Dude -- there is NO shame in Frankenberry. None.
The shame is . . . why were they so completely unable to even sniff the magic of Frankenberry with the perennially disappointing Count Chocula?
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