Spartan breakfast perhaps?

...well, not exactly. The breakfast was delicious and filling. I ate the egg (protein) first. I show a lot of fruit below but I ate only a few pieces. I pick and choose the fruit I feel like eating at any one breakfast. Those two containers of fruit have been lasting a week. I have been alternating eating a loaf of bread one week with oatmeal the following week. Working out well.

If you really must know, the quarter-cup of instant oats is microwaved for 75 seconds with a half-cup of water. Then I throw in a few slivered almonds and either blueberries or craisins and mix it all up with a teaspoon of honey. It makes for an excellent alternative to the bread and provides a few more grams of fiber.

For a richer experience, slap on additional butter and use more cooking oil for the egg. For bread, I prefer butter to cheese. I like cheese but eat it very rarely.. usually with a bottle of red zinfandel on Saturday nights.

Don't waste food. Lick it clean. Yeah, disgusting.. but no one is going to be viewing your plate.

Is it on one side because I was trying to save oil.. as it was just one egg? No, its on one side because of gravity.. my cooking range is tilted ever so slightly to that side. So.. I just sprayed that side with oil knowing the egg will situate itself there with gusto. Clever, huh?

I estimate the value of this nutritious breakfast at around two dollars.

Random Thot

Very happy to have been present when Alex Honnold visited Somerville Bouldering in 2019. The women on stage strike me as, well, being in a moment that most women and men only dream of. Alex, on the other hand, reminds me of a dying breed... perhaps that of the character of Clay Bell from Guns of the Timberlands or maybe Logan Cates from Last Stand at Papago Wells. Not in a "draw fast and make the first shot count" sort of way, mind it. But in a.. can teach us about how to get out of  -- and in Alex's case, get into AND out of -- a pretty awful situation sort of way. Incidentally, the character of Junie Hatchett in Last Stand at Papago Wells has festered in my mind since I first read the book as a teenager growing up in Madurai, India: