Wednesday, August 24, 2011

Cereal, Milk, and Life.

It's pretty sad when you think a good day is qualified by finding Milk on sale for "Buy One, Get One Free" in a grocery store.  Which I did recently.  And which caused me to start thinking about cereal.  And milk.  And life.

The earliest cereal I can remember is/are Sugar Frosted Flakes.  Look it up, that's what they were called then, before we as a people realized that sugar is BAAADDDD for us, and the Cereal Police changed my Sugar Frosted Flakes to Frosted Flakes of Corn.  Just doesn't sound the same.

Milk used to be delivered to our door by Cecil Blackmon, Steve's daddy.  Before you go to bed at night, you set any number of empty glass milk bottles out by your back door, and the next morning when you get up, Viola!  There's the exact same number of glass milk bottles, magically full of fresh milk.  That was before the Milk Police decided that A)  Glass bottles are bad for you, 2)  Plastic is preferred, and D)  It's easier for the Milk Man to deliver the milk that used to show up on your back porch to some grocery store instead, therefore necessitating a drive that you wouldn't have to make otherwise.  Because, seriously, you can "run out" of anything else and put off the trip until at least tomorrow.  But, brother, run out of milk and the World As We Know It will--WILL--end unless you get to the store and get a gallon.

I navigated the Cereal Oceans and am still at sea.  I sailed through Cap'n Crunch (found out that grains and marshmallows don't mix well), Cocoa Crispies (if I'da wanted chocolate milk I'da bought some on that urgent grocery store run), the old standby Corn Flakes (who knew that you could do that with corn?), Fruit Loops (eat 'em dry--they make the milk in the bowl a really funny color), etc. 

At this stage of my life I kinda like Raisin Bran (obviously) and the occasional Rice Krispies.  The Queen and Princess eat Kashi Kardboard Krunchies or something like that (their motto is "Trees Never Tasted This Good Before").  I'll take my chances with Mr. Kellogg.

There used to be one kind of milk--milk.  Pints, quarts, gallons, it was all just milk.  Now there's Whole Milk, 1%, 2%, Skim, Organic, Soy...just a plethora of milk options.

By the way, Organic Milk apparently comes from "free-range" bovines.  Think about it--would you rather have milk from cows living in an organized, well-fed environment or from cows who are allowed to roam in gangs, eating whatever they want (think goats here--and believe it or not, they also provide milk AND cheese) and giving you the residue?

I like--really like--Publix Milk.  It comes from moovement-restricted cows who live on fenced-in farms.  The closest Publix to the Queen of the Mountains is eleven miles away.  Publix Milk is worth the drive.  These same cows provide delicious Ice Cream and when their milking days are through become tender, moist Publix ribeyes.  Yes, I am a Cow Man.

I'm convinced that if we still had milk delivered to our doorstep and sugar on our cereal our country wouldn't be in the mess it's in now.

Who can fight when you're eating a bowl of Sugar Frosted Flakes with some cold milk?  No one I know.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

August 16, 1977.

I was a summer missionary serving on a Youth Revival Team in Georgia during the summer of 1977.  The week of August 16 we were in our last church, First Baptist Marietta.

August 16 was on a Wednesday.  Our last service was that evening, and Mama and Daddy had already brought my then-car, a 1969 fire-engine red Impala hardtop, to Marietta so I could drive straight home later that night.

I got back to the home where we were staying mid-afternoon and was greeted by Fred Pitts (we called him "Fred-O" because his middle name was Olin, which has no bearing on this story whatsoever).  His exact words were "I've got some bad news...".

I thought a family member had died.  And they had...almost.

Fred-O simply said, "The King is dead."

Funny how you remember things--where you were when some fateful event happened, for instance.

I was riding home from Gordon Grammar School with Mrs. House on November 22, 1963.  I was working for Daddy at his service station on May 5, 1979.

And I was in Marietta, Georgia, on August 16, 1977.

I was an Elvis fan when it wasn't cool to be an Elvis fan.  When he made all those movies, I was there.  When he "came back" in 1968, I was there.

And in August 1977 I was still there.  And in August 2011...I still am.

Unabashedly, unashamedly, undeniably an Elvis fan.

The King is dead.  Long live the King.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

And, After The Tropical Storm...The Warmth Of The Sun.

"The Warmth Of The Sun" -- Brian Wilson/Mike Love

What good is the dawn
That grows into day
The sunset at night
Or living this way

For I have the warmth of the sun

(Warmth of the sun)
Within me at night
(Within me at night)

The love of my life

She left me one day
I cried when she said
"I don't feel the same way"

Still I have the warmth of the sun
(Warmth of the sun)
Within me tonight
(Within me tonight)

I'll dream of her arms
And though they're not real
Just like she's still there
The way that I feel

My love's like the warmth of the sun
(Warmth of the sun)
It won't ever die
(It won't ever die)

It Was Only A Matter Of Time.

It was bound to happen sooner or later...I've know this for a while.

Of course she's going to hit Florida.  And avoid Georgia.  Of course.

I've lived with this storm a'brewin' in my house for 24 years.

Follow the link, and you'll see what I mean...Tropical Storm Emily.