In my old age, I have turned into a weirdo! For breakfast, I am eating oatmeal, the real kind, no instant. In fact, there isn't even a picture of Benjamin Franklin, or Wilford Brimley, or whomever on the box. I did make them in the microwave, but only because I was hungry. Add to the yummy oatmeal a handful of grapes and plastic sausage and you have a loverly brekkie.

What, you may ask, is plastic sausage? When my grandfather was still alive, he had routines. He wore a white shirt and khaki pants every day except when he went to church. He was buried in a pressed white shirt and khaki pants. Every morning for breaskfast he had plastic eggs, plastic bacon or sausage, and a sliced tomato. The plasic eggs are the kind that come in a carton, not real eggs. Plastic bacon or sausage was the vegetarian kind. The bacon looked like strips of painted plastic, thus plpastic breakfast.

I am eating two Morningstar Farms sausage patties with my oatmeal this morning, and really liking it. Weird and old I am. Too bad I hate khaki pants.