I don't like milk.
Well, unless it has something good added to it!
Yep, strange for someone raised on a dairy farm.
...AND, my mother was allergic to dairy foods.
The good news is Daddy ate enough cheese and ice cream to keep us all in business.
In the line of true confessions, I don't care for breakfast.
I never have.
I do not eat eggs.
Ok, so that is not true.
I do eat eggs as long as I can't taste or smell them. Throw in enough cheese and onions, cook it crispy, and I will eat an omelet or a quiche.
I have gagged over cleaning one too many iron skillets after eggs were cooked--eeeeeewwwwww...
I was the brat, who followed my Daddy like a puppy, and sat at the table between my parents until their deaths.
I remember sitting around the breakfast table each morning with my family, as a young child. Mother said there were few meals that something wasn't spilled, and often, it wasn't one of the kids! Remember, we had 3 people past 80 the first few years of my life.
As we got older, it became a joke that as soon as the blessing was offered, somebody always jumped up to get something!
Daddy always had the same breakfast --2 eggs (fried with a runny middle---ick, or scrambled), 2 pieces of toast, covered in White Karo Syrup, and cut into 9 squares, 2 pieces of sausage, bacon or ham, and coffee.
I have shared this before, but it is as vivid a memory as it gets. I remember watching Daddy perfectly cutting his toast into those 9 squares, and this one particular morning, I asked him to cut my toast.
I remember my eyes growing big in horror as he reached across me with that egg-yellow-laced fork to cut my toast! I watched in unbelief as those egg drippings were now on MY toast, and tears flowed uncontrollably.
I remember the sternness of Daddy telling me to stop crying and to eat. I remember thinking that I would stop crying, but eat it, I would NOT. Yes, Daddy got an extra piece of toast that morning.
Of all the things that I remember, I wonder why this is etched in my mind.
Maybe, this was the foundation of my not liking breakfast. A celebration of all things EGG is a bit much for me. LOL
Mother, long ago, gave up on trying to force me to get up earlier than I needed to stare at food I didn't want to eat.
We would get breakfast bars, granola, or anything that we could grab and go. Breakfast became only for special occassions--that wasn't a bad thing. It helped reassure me of the specialness of gathering around a table to share breakfast. I LOVED going to Shoney's breakfast bar with Mother and Daddy.
Any time we traveled, Daddy planned a stop at Cracker Barrel for breakfast. I never minded so much getting up a bit earlier for that.
My favorite breakfast, as of late, is Yogurt with granola. Of course, it comes later in the day. 😊
Yesterday, I thought I would try to use the rest of my milk I had bought for potato soup, before the milk spoiled, so I got a bowl of granola. As I sat down for my afternoon snack, I eyed my last peach, big as a softball, and too expensive to let spoil ($2.98/lb), so I grabbed it and chopped it into my cereal.
Mercy, me, those food memories.
I was transported back to my childhood years of eating fresh peaches with milk/sugar over them or blackberries with milk/sugar!
WOW!!
I can't adequately express my gratitude for being raised in a home that smelled of freshly baked goods...for being blessed with fresh out-of-the-garden veggies...for the joy of growing up around a table with family and friends...for being taught that all good gifts come down from the Father of Lights...for learning to always bless the hands that prepared a meal, our food to nourish our bodies, and our health to God's service.
To God, be all glory, honor and Praise!
I am simply blessed to create~charlotte♡
