Today was Hot Dog day at work!  I had a hot dog and a pop and chips!  The pop was Fanta!

There was still poo at the bus stop this morning.  It’s disintigrating or melting or something.  I don’t know the life cycle of poo.  It is sitting just outside of the the bus-waiting hut so I hung out inside the hut with the chatty ladies.  One of the chatty ladies shoved-a-bum so that I could sit on the bench.  She did not, however, engage me in chat, and that was OK.  I just wanted there to be some division between me and the poo.

I’ve just made apple crisp.  I’ll call it apple “crisp” because that sounds more appealing and gourmet than what it really is, which is apple oatmeal.  “Crisp” makes it sound like something one might have for dessert at dinner time, or in the evening.  As it is evening now, I should be having a dessert, not breakfast. But oh my good ness.  I have added cinnamon and raisins and it looks so tasty.  I will add vanilla soy milk it shall be enjoyable.  I’m letting it cool because I don’t like hot hot oatmeal.  When I make it in the mornings (which is the proper time for oatmeal and when I usually eat it) I let it cool a great deal before eating it.  Warmish, maybe even cool depending on how long it has sat and how much milk I add.  I have to eat it with a small spoon or else I dribble down my chin and that’s not something grownups should do.  I seem to have a lot of rules when it comes to oatmeal.  They’re more just habits– I happen to know the best way to eat oatmeal.  And that’s all there is to it.

The apple in my apple crisp is from my dad’s tree.

Last week I made real crisp out of rhubarb and apples from my dad’s garden.  It was real crisp: I consulted a recipe that was labeled “some sort of crisp” and Baked said crisp in the Oven.  It was even actually crispy on top.  I had to buy some coolwhip for the top.  Mmm.  Summertime.

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