Cereal Bonanza!!

When I was a kid, I looked forward to my morning bowl of cereal every night before I went to sleep. I would drift off into dreamland, snuggling my chubby cheek against the pillow as visions of crunchy, sugar-coated goodness danced in my head. Not much has changed. I have a constant cinema of food-porn racing through my head at any given moment.  I'll always be a fat kid at heart.

I had my favorites, of course.  These are my Cereal Friends:

Number one on my list was ALWAYS Cap'n Crunch with Crunch Berries. This was the Jenna Jameson of my food fantasies, the ever-loving carbohydrate star. Even though it would cut your mouth to pieces after the first bowl, I'd always go back for more of those little golden nuggets with their artificially-colored spherical  buddies. I'd save the berries for last, chasing them around my bowl till the milk turned pink.

A close second was Cookie Crisp. The wizard on the box was creepy, and again, they made your mouth raw, but whoever figured out how to shrink those cookies was my hero. My mom would get pissed, but I would forget to roll the inner bag down on purpose, because I liked them a little stale. Sometimes, stale is better. I like donuts this way as well. Call me gross.

In third place was Corn POPS!  Can't forget the all CAPS - that's important!  Whatever high-fructose ooze they coated these babies with, it was delectable to my twelve-year-old taste buds. My fiance preferred the much touted "Mom-tested" KiX  corn cereal when he was a kid. His parents were health-conscious, I guess.  Mine, not so much. Hello childhood obesity!

Honeycomb was probably the "healthiest" cereal I consumed as a child proper. I think I thought it was healthy because it always had soccer players and other various athletes on the box. I was never a various athlete.  Maybe I thought Honeycomb could magically make me hit that softball and not get picked last for the team.

Next was Fruity Pebbles. It could have been because I loved "The Flintstones" and wanted to be Betty Rubble. But, I really think it was picking the dried, crusty leftovers off the rim of the bowl. This was the best part. I watch in amazement when I see my daughter do the same damn thing.  I let her. Those crusties are friggin'  hard to get off before you run that stupid bowl through the dishwasher.

When I was in high-school, I finally shed my so called baby-weight (I don't buy that. I think that is a lie from the pit of hell. The only time you shed "baby-weight" is after you spawn.)  In any event, I was trying to be conscious of the invisible highway from my hand to my mouth. I elevated my tastes to Raisin Bran. I would carefully measure the 3/4 cup serving, put in my skim milk, add more raisins and a heaping tablespoon of sugar. Don't judge. My Rocky Mountains still fit.

Cereal is great - while I have moved onto Kashi GoLean! with those ridiculously happy people of various ethnicities on the box, I still turn to cereal in times of food woe.  I still read all the information that surrounds the package, and peruse the nutritional information.  I take great pleasure in pouring the milk, hearing the crunch, and enjoying this all-around bowl of happiness. Where would bachelors, time-crunched single-moms, and various athletes be without it?





Tell me your favorites...

To the Ladies of "Mad Men"

I discovered Mad Men about three years ago.  I was wanting something new to watch. I was single, with a TV (gasp!) all to myself!   Let's be honest here - I love Carrie Bradshaw and her shoes, but I wanted something a bit meatier to sink my fangs into. I was channel-surfing, and this Hitchcock-esque image of a dapper man with a cigarette, lounging on a couch flashed across my screen.  I kept watching. 10 minutes in, I was hooked. 

It isn't just the "Vertigo" - inspired opening credits, the machinations of 60s corporate life, and the mystery of Don Draper and his identity that keep me coming back... it's the girls.

Let's start with Betty Draper.  Betty is the perfect tragic, selfish and pristine Nordic anti-heroine.  She is also a shitty mother. Yes, I said it. When I saw Sally wander into the room with the dry-cleaning bag over her head, I was horrified that Betty scolded her about leaving the clothing on the floor, and not the SUFFOCATION risk.  I get that it was a different time, and that the dangers of drinking out of the garden hose and eating desiccant were as yet, unknown.  But Betty, for all of your Grace Kelly ice-queen perfection, you are a mess. I know your first husband was a cheater. I get that it's hard to give up your dreams to be a suburban housewife; I couldn't do it. Your therapist was a quack, and I am sorry that Lilly Pulitzer can't solve all your problems. But Sally is going to be a tequila-swilling, sexually promiscuous pothead if you don't stop ignoring her, threatening to cut off her fingers, and calling her fat.  But... I still like your clothes, Mommy-Dearest.

And on to Joan. If I could be any woman on Mad Men, I would LIKE to be Joan Holloway.  That chick has swagger. When I first saw her sashay her rump onscreen, I had to pick my jaw up from the floor. I'm sure 99% of the male population had the same reaction. Finally, a WOman!  On the television!  She navigates the secretarial pool at Sterling-Cooper like a barracuda, terrorizing the underlings like a red-headed, bengaline clad goddess.  Thank you for bringing back the cantilevered hourglass. Thank you for bringing back the Bitch.  Not since Erica Kane have we seen a character who can convey vulnerability and contempt with just a glance. I loved it when she told Peggy to "Stop dressing like a little girl."  This is a woman with few female friends. She knew how to be the Alpha, and to work with the "system".  So, you're gonna treat me like a sex-object? Fine. I'll manipulate you until you're putty and THEN get what I want.  Sure, she's jealous, hot-tempered and devious. What's wrong with that? And you gotta love a girl who can sing in French while playing a mean accordian.

Peggy. Peggy is the 60s woman. Pure and simple, she shows the transition from old-fashioned mores into the sexual revolution and equality in the workplace. She's my favorite character - I identify with her. I understand the ambition, the drive to be considered an equal. When she showed up at the burlesque club in Season 2 to hang with the boys to celebrate a successful ad campaign, that took moxie. Ladies didn't do that back then. Peggy wasn't concerned with being a lady. She wanted to be seen as just as important as the men at  Sterling-Cooper, and she was. More so, in fact. Don Draper's grudging support of her, and their symbiotic relationship shows just how intelligent Peggy Olson really is. She didn't go the route of seduction, like Joan. She went the direction of careful and studious observation. That's one of the things about quiet people. They see a lot, and absorb more - their life is a careful chess game.  Peggy may have looked like a hick-girl off the wagon in Season 1, but that girl knew what she deserved. And thankfully, it was NOT Pete Campbell. Eww.


There are so many things to love about the show - the clothing, the decor, the alcohol. There is the romance of a time past, as well as the ugly underbelly of misogyny and politics. The women make the show. I found out recently that most of the writers of the show are female. I think that is astounding - and it really speaks to the fact that the series is honest. It shines a true mirror on the 60s.  For all of their flaws and their dependence on girdles and long-line bras, the women of Mad Men are US -  our mothers, our grandmothers. Those women fought hard for us to be able to vote, to become CEOS and business-owners, or even to choose to stay home with our kids.  I think about that every time I put on a vintage dress - I wonder who wore it before me. Times may change, but women stay the same.