What's For Breakfast?
For the first two months I was in Germany in the early '70s, I had exactly the same thing for breakfast every morning -- every morning: Oats. Finally, I was on in another city (Bayreuth) and the guy I was working with announced he was going to make me something really special for breakfast. Oh, whoopie.... Finally, something different.
As I waited with bated breath, he set about preparations. Ooh... what gastronomic delight awaited me? What exotic treat awaited my tastebuds? After almost an eternity of waiting, I was finally presented with....
Cream of wheat.
What the...?
Don't get me wrong -- I like the stuff. Used to eat it all the time as a kid. But... talk about a let-down. The way he had been talking, you'd think he was distilling jet fuel. Fortunately, I at least learned what to look for in the grocery stores, so I could have some variety in my breakfast after that.
Some people's kids....
posted by Jahn @ 17:28
4 Comments:
How about a couple of eggs over easy, a couple of Hormel Little sizzlers and some grits... Yumm! TF would add to that peanut butter on toast.
This reminded me of the fellow who joined a sect of monks living in total seclusion who had to take a vow of total silence. The exception to that vow was each monk was permitted to speak one word per year on the anniversary of his having joined. They would work in the monastery doing maintenance, take care of the landscape chores, read the scriptures and commune with God.
Each morning they started the day off with a bowl of oatmeal and the new fellow wasn’t too pleased; it was okay, but he was used to a little more variety. His first year went by and he stood up to speak.
“I”
The second year he was more used to the seclusion, the painting of chapel walls, weeding around the walls, reading the scriptures and communing with God.
“Don’t”
The third year he looked for ways to improve the monastery’s plumbing system; continued pruning the shrubs, reading the scriptures and communing with God.
“Like”
The fourth year was pretty much the same as he helped replace the antiquated electrical systems that had been put in seventy years earlier, clipped the hedges, read the scriptures and communed with God.
“Oatmeal”
The next year he abandoned the brethren and returned to his previous life in the real world. The head honcho at the monastery wasn’t surprised; “He never did fit in, all he ever did was complain.”
I heard that one a slightly different way. Man joins a monastery where a vow of silence prevails. However, once a year, each monk is allowed to say two words.
First year, he's ushered into the head monk's office.
"Bed hard."
Next year, he comes in.
"Food lousy."
Next year:
"Room cold."
Next year:
"I quit."
Head monk says "I'm not surprised. You've done nothing but grip since you've been here."
That's the way my dad told it, variations on a theme...
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