Tuesday, March 30, 2010


So after a long hiatus, its time to stop neglecting my beloved writing place. I think I was too ambitious trying to put a post every day, and that made it too easy to give up entirely. So, as I promised myself, before the end of this month, I would start writing again, here I am on March 31st. I've decided to restructure, I'm going to post at least twice a week, on Sunday and Wednesday evenings, and to spice things up a little, experiment with video blogging once a month. We'll see how it goes.

Tonight, as I write, I find myself in front of the computer, mug of organic high fiber cereal with soy milk in hand, reminiscing of the days when cereal meant marshmallow pots of gold and Toucan Sam. When we were younger, my brother and I would go to my brother's godfather's house often. They had four children close in age to us and we would get ourselves into all kinds of trouble, but my strongest memory tied to cereal comes from their house. They had the jackpot when it came to cereal, cookie crisp, berry berry kix, rice crispy treats cereal, and every time it was just about time to head out, would cry starvation. We begged for cereal, we could not go on without a bowl of cereal. And we milked it for all it was worth -- pun intended.

But in reflection, cereal really is the simplest of pleasures. A bowl filled with ice cold milk and delicate sweet, crispy flakes. The satisfying crunch delivered by the spoonful. I have vivid memories of my 4 year old self having deep conversations with my rice crispies. The secrets of the world would be revealed if I payed enough attention. My rice crispies told me stories about pirates and princesses, they made me laugh, and never revealed my secrets. But now, on this early spring evening, my cereal says nothing, only that my digestive system will be grateful for the treat. Tony the Tiger is replaced by a quaint outdoor scene, and the colorful fruity pebbles are substituted with what looks more like rabbit food.