All Hail 2021

Everyone was thrilled to see last year come to a close. 

Unfortunately, the after-effects of 2020 were like when you eat something you shouldn't, say, a corn dog at a carnival. The immediate effects are bad enough, but the aftereffects, boy howdy, they sure are a kick in the gut.

Much like our first week of 2021.

Enough has been expostulated about the horrific goings on these last several days, and frankly, I don't have the stomach to bring all that up again. 

Like you, I'm hoping things settle down quickly, that the presidential transition is smooth and that our leaders get back to the business of running the country. Also, that they do a better job of playing well together. (A girl can dream, can't she?)

In the meantime, I have my own problems to deal with.

Case in point, the skirmish that has become the Breakfast Wars of 2021.

I thought I was being benevolent, giving Mr. Ginley Cap'n Crunch for Christmas. For several days afterward, he blissfully consumed this sugary, (almost) totally-devoid-of-nutritional-value "cereal. "

Alas, all good things must come to an end, and the return of Cheerios to the breakfast table did not come with a hearty welcome.

"Why do I have to eat this sh*t?" is the question I've faced every day this week. "Why can't I have the granola you used to make?"

For the umpteenth time, I explained the granola has a bunch of sugar in it. And the nuts are one of the things people with kidney stones are supposed to avoid. Both of these, as well as the high calorie count,  offset the health benefits of the oats. 

"You know," Mr. Ginley postulated, "I used to have potato chips, yogurt and pop for breakfast, and I turned out just fine."

This earned him a look over the top of my glasses.

"And...that's why you're taking meds for diabetes?" I inquired.

Then I gave him the lecture about breakfast being the most important meal of the day.

"Well, does that mean I can have a cheeseburger for lunch? If breakfast is the most important meal, that means dinner is number 2 and lunch is the least important. So I can eat anything I want for lunch, right?"

At this point, I threatened to take him to a dietician, who could deliver the lecture much more effectively than I.

He grumbled and ate the rest of his Cheerios.I finished my oatmeal. And things settled down again. For now.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I invested in the family size box of Cheerios. 

That would just be plain cruel.

Oops.