breakfast. . .
Well, it’s Saturday morning and I was looking forward to a leisurely breakfast. We decided to stay here this weekend so I rummaged around in the pantry for something to cook up. I found a drum of grits with just enough for a bowl. And as I came back into the kitchen, it slipped out of my hands and white powdery grits fell all over the floor, including between the floor boards. So, after eyeing the broom, I got out the vacuum cleaner and swept it up.
Second try, I found some old-fashioned oatmeal which I put in a bowl and microwaved while I went about putting the odds and ends that were on the kitchen counter away. It was still runny after the first attempt so I ran it again. This time when I opened up the microwave, the watery oatmeal had spilled all over the glass tray. No oatmeal for breakfast, I thought, as I took the tray out and cleaned it thoroughly under the running faucet.
Each time this happened, I asked myself silently, what am I supposed to learn from this? My patience was worn pretty thin by this time but I kept on going. Before I had started with the grits, I’d been looking online for little snacks to make for tonight’s Patriots playoff game–and had come across the concept of quesadillas.
So, I took out some leftover small bran/flax pita pockets, some lunch ham I’d been saving, asiago shredded cheese and some green onions. Cut a pocket in half, folded a piece of ham in it, sprinkled with chopped green onions and a generous couple of dollops of asiago cheese. Heated a little butter in the stick-free pan that Caitlin had given me for my birthday and grilled the little make-do quesadillas until they were crispy on both sides. Then, I broke a couple of farm fresh eggs into the pan and cooked them over-easy and added them to the plate of goodies that I had so far. Cut the quesadillas like small pizzas and dipped bite sized pieces into the warm egg yolk. Yum!
Every time something like this happens, I think to myself that no matter what befalls us in this world economy with the dismal state of politics in our country, we can still feed ourselves with little make-dos that are better than what we might have wanted to begin with. “Utopia is in your own backyard,” or at least, maybe in the fridge!
Just wanted you to know that when you’re about to have a meltdown (and I was so ready!) over little dumb stuff that happens, there’s the possibility of something even better coming out of it all in the end. At least, that’s what I learned today at breakfast.