Move aside, lesser beings! Today I achieve greatness. I will ascend a platform higher than the pillars of champions, including that three-level Ikea bookcase used for medalists at the Olympics. I have invented an easily-made form of granola for cereal and trail mix. Mind. Blown.
Many moons ago, we purchased a large box of nutrition bars at one of those cavernous wholesale clubs. The bars weren’t very appetizing. . . I disliked their opening sensation of always being stale, and the immediate crumble-factor, and the crunchy debris left all over my clothes. They vaguely reminded me of military rations. Being an old Boy Scout, I stashed a few in my backpack and left some at work for a last-ditch snack attack. The Wife forgot them in the cupboard.
Let’s come to the point. . . I absolutely adore granola. Given the choice between lobster and granola, I would seriously move to the latter. When I was a kid, my mom graced me on a Saturday morning with a bowl of Quaker granola. Ah, the taste! The raisins! The dates! The sugar hidden behind a reasonable level of nutrition! (Don’t you find it strange that one company made cereal and another company of the same name made motor oil? Had we combined brands, half of Americans could have died in the breakfast nook. But I digress.)
Those poor, unwanted nutrition bars needed to be disposed of if not eaten, so today, after skipping lunch, I finally reached for one. The bar had long since crumbled inside its wrapper. I emptied the contents into a bowl. . . and my life changed forever. Tomorrow, I’m adding milk to a bowl of crushed nutrition bars. And I will eat granola once again. And all will be well in the world.