At any rate, in our New Orleans hotel I pulled the old, cracked bowl out of my bag. I keep this bowl exclusively for traveling and heating up my oatmeal. This pesky stuff tends to overflow in the microwave, so I require a deep bowl. My cranberries, granola, raisins, and measuring cup were all packed properly. The only item not present and accounted for was my Ziploc bag full of oatmeal. Shit!
|This is my travel bowl. If I ever leave it behind or if it breaks, I will not shed a tear. It does get the job done . . . when I remember to bring the damn oatmeal!|
Seriously, if you need me to spell it out for you c-o-n-s-t-i-p-a-t-i-o-n.
We had just returned from the World War II museum when I discovered my packing mess-up. I hadn't taken the time to make my oatmeal that morning so I was the first one off of the elevator racing to the room to cook it up in my cracked bowl.
|My usual collection of items I use to make my oatmeal. Raisins, granola, cranberries, and the elusive oatmeal!|
Another tidbit to consider it that we thoroughly enjoyed the WWII museum, but I felt like I was being tortured in a meat locker by cruel kidnappers. The museum itself was incredibly well done and informative. My wardrobe choice created my only real problem with this visit. You see, it was as hot as could be in New Orleans that day. I wore a sundress. Coach laughed at Mini and I for contemplating packing a drawstring bag with sweaters. I am always cold, but I decided that he was right. I'm always right. Coach rarely. Why, oh why, did I listen to him?
Mini and I spent our time reading the displayed information at the museum while rubbing our arms against each other for warmth. I wanted to cry. Literally. It was INSANELY COLD IN THERE. It was like the museum's way to require guests to stay awake and attend to the exhibits better. There are several buildings at this campus. We stepped outside between buildings and opened our drawstring bag for lunch. I doled out mandarin oranges, Ritz crackers that I spread with peanut butter, granola bars, and my main food source - trail mix. When we were done eating, I cringed at the thought of returning to the frigid air conditioning.
On our taxi ride back to the hotel, I asked the driver to turn off the air conditioning. Pretty confident that he doesn't get that request very often. As the kids made plans to go to the hotel pool, I assured them I would do nothing until I had eaten my oatmeal. Usually I need time before I am able to laugh at a situation like this, but Tank actually had all of us in stitches moments after my upsetting realization that I HAD NO OATMEAL.
In a high pitched voice with hands flailing dramatically, he mocked me: his mother, who delivered him vaginally despite the fact that he weighed in at 10 lbs 3 oz. Yep, he did. His impersonation. . . and it wasn't.