For half a century,
he opens the door and there it is.
Chillin’ and chilled.
Cold, smooth, white as snow.
From bottles, to cartons, to jugs.
On cereal.
With chocolate chip cookies and PB&J.
A chaser for warm apple crisp.
And then he wakes.
Blink.
A half a century later.
And this insomniac finds himself standing in front of the open refrigerator door. The same Boy who stood in a similar place on a similar summer morning in July. Bare foot. White t-shirt. Undershorts. With the freon propellant misting him with its cool breeze. And he pauses to think.
Tolerant. To intolerant.
There he finds a plastic jug of 2% flanked by “All Natural Blue Diamond Almond Breeze Almond Milk.”
And a single thought comes to his mind. The title of the 1989 biography written by Marion Meade:
Dorothy Parker: What Fresh Hell Is This?
Notes:
- Photo: Ohlalagirls (via This Isn’t Happiness)
- Related Posts: Scraps
- Marion Meade’s Biography on Amazon.
ah, yes. a sudden slap in the face )
Exactly!
Thanks for the a.m. smile ! ☺ As late as the 1980’s, I was getting milk delivered in glass bottles. Heaven.
What’s better than milk in bottles?!
I love milk!
There is a chap here who still delivers in them. Actually much better, cause they get recycled
Lucky you. Home bottle delivery!
With 1.2 billion people, i think we can expect that…
☺️
Nice big fat image. 😀
All you!
Makes a difference!
Hubby emitted a similar cry when he saw the container of flax milk. Told him we were upping his Omega-3s and ‘you’re welcome.’ 🙂
Laughing. So nice of you.
I so miss the days of cereal, milk & hot cocoa …
Me too!
vanilla almond milk on cereal is almost decadent…
Ha! All that natural sugar. It’s no wonder.
Nothing cuts through a thick glob of peanut butter that is clogging your throat better than fresh, ice cold whole milk.
Yes. That is truth.
Ah yes … The simple old days. And I smile as I think that’s exactly in my fridge now!
Lucky you Val.
Our own milk cow, Esmerelda, and our own little pasteurizer. Butter made by hand. What could be more natural and wholesome. So, no one could understand why I often barfed after breakfast before getting on the school bus, why I would whisper my mom awake in the night with, “I don’t feel good.” She gave me aspirin and sent me back to bed. Lactose Intolerance would have been traitorous to our way of life.
Smiling. We had a little pasteurizer too.