Crumbs In My Cereal… and other little annoyances

It’s morning… that perfect sort of fall morning when there is a slight haze on the ground and the air smells like pumpkins and apple cider. The type of morning where you feel completely justified in wearing cute boots and a scarf and coffee-to-go is a must! But just before you step out the door to head off to work, you head to the kitchen to grab a quick bowl of cereal – yummy! Cap’n Crunch! Alas, you discover a tragedy *da da dah* there is only enough cereal left for one bowl which means *scream of terror!* there will be cereal crumbs in your bowl of cereal! A tragedy beyond tragedy!

Want a remedy?

I thought so… Pour the cereal through a colander. It sifts the annoying crumbs right out of your life and into the trash! 

Please, hold your applause. I just a mere mortal helping to solve little annoyances one cereal crumb at a time.



The Roof…

The summer between high school and college I worked with my dad in construction. That was the summer a tornado ripped through my aunt and uncles town and destroyed the roof of their home. My dad, being well versed in any and all construction, offered to be the contractor that fixed the roof. I helped. I learned a lot that summer. More than I expected to actually. Now looking back on that summer, I realize how much of a gift it was.

I wrote this at the end of that summer. Sadly, I’m not sure if Dad ever got to read it. He was a great man and the best teacher and I didn’t tell him enough how much he meant to me and how much I loved him…

The Roof

It’s how I met my dad
That summer on a roof
We didn’t talk much before
And then we went up the 13 rungs of a silver ladder

Our gloved hands ripped old torn shingles from their place
Dad taught me, showed me, how to “lay a good line”
Together, we found a rythm, me with a nail gun too big for my hands
Him patiently holding new shingles in place

He told me i was doing a good job, that he was proud of me
A smile hit me in the face

Lunch was eaten on the unfinished ridge
The highest point of the roof
Killing an hour with talk radio and God
Bologna tastes best on a country roof

And then we went down the 13 rungs of a silver ladder
We climb in the Dodge
We head home
It was the best summer of my life, Dad.

– by your little girl, Lynette (Miller) Fager