On Saturday, we’re driving up to visit my parents. As
an incentive treat, we’re stopping by our local Kroger and buying donuts.
Yes, you heard it right: We’re buying DONUTS.
Those deep fried, sugar coated, zero nutrient yummy bits of dough.
And I’ve been planning which two I want to create a sticky steering wheel relationship with all week (the fact that I’m driving doesn’t deter me from keeping my donut rendezvous).
- Lemon Custard and a sugar cinnamon twist.
- Or a Lemon Custard and a chocolate glazed ring?
- Or a sugar cinnamon twist and a chocolate glazed ring?
- Or a sugar cinnamon twist and a cake donut?
Argh! I’ve kept myself up at night thinking about my choices. I’m sure there’s a nutrionist somewhere that says that this type of food fixation isn’t healthy, but at the moment, it’s making me the happiest person out there – that is, until I get my two donuts.
(Thinking about donuts also lets me forget about the soap-studded stir fry that I just tried to consume. Too little rinsing of the cutting board led to a completely disgusting dinner. Had to toss the whole thing. Nightmare. Want to forget.)
Until Saturday morning at 10 am, we’re having oatmeal.
Oatmeal, glorious oatmeal!
And I mean that.
And not in some kind of sarcastic way, either.
This is my oatmeal. Let me proudly introduce you to Oaty:
See that? 9 lbs. NINE POUNDS of oatmeal goodness.
I was literally giddy with joy when I found this gem at Sams Club. Not only was it the biggest box of oatmeal I had ever seen, but it was eight bucks. EIGHT!! Such a steal. My family laughed at me, certain that we’d have oatmeal until the dawn of time, but little did they truly know my oatmeal fixation.
You get two of these big guys in the box. We’ve gone through two boxes of oatmeal over the past…year? ish? 18 pounds of oatmeal…okay, let’s not think about that too much or I might disturb even myself.
This is actually quite a feat, because at the beginning of our marriage, my hubby was a self-proclaimed oatmeal hater. Wouldn’t touch the stuff I made and so I made it infrequently.
Then he discovered the wonders of syrup on his oatmeal (and the fact that I do NOT pour milk over my cooked oats – yuck! – and instead mix it in to cook) and now he eats it quite happily with me every morning.
Here’s the stars of the show:
That bottle of maple is the same bottle my brother brought from their maple grove. It has a distinct, woodsy taste that I’ve never had from store bottled maple. I prefer more fruity toppings and lately I’ve been dabbing a bit of Cranberry Apple Butter on my oatmeal. It’s tart so it’s delicious with the sweetness of the oats.
You’ll also note the brown stuff in the bowls. That’s flax seed meal. I dump a big spoonful in each bowl and give it a good mix. If I cook it in the pan, I find that it comes out a bit too gummy for my tastes.
And that, folks, is breakfast. It’s quick, it’s delicious, it’s adored and I can’t wait to have it again tomorrow morning. (Oh, yes – and that’s a fork in my bowl. I cook with the fork and I eat my oats with a fork. I do not find this odd at all.)