In Which Breakfast Disappoints Me & I Am Not Happy

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“A helpful Tribe Called Quest flow chart” via @MarionDowling

THE FIRST THING you need to know is that I dislike eating the end of anything.  Heel of the loaf of bread? Yuck.  Last of the peanut butter in the jar? No thanks.  Final serving of the mac and cheese in the casserole? Ugh.

[Character failing or intriguing personality quirk? You, my gentle readers, are free to decide which it is.]

So this morning, half-awake, as I prepared my breakfast, I went outside my comfort zone when I decided to voluntarily eat the end of the Orange Marmalade.  I like Orange Marmalade, and in the winter when it’s cold and dreary outside Orange Marmalade cheers my soul, which I believe is an admirable thing for a condiment to do.

[It makes me think of England where I went to college for a term.  In the spring, when it was pretty and green outside.  The opposite weather of this morning.]

# # #

SITTING DOWN TO breakfast at the kitchen counter, with my mug of coffee and my tasty toast smeared with Orange Marmalade, I bit into what I thought would be the perfect midwinter anti-gloom breakfast.

[Oh, but was I disappointed.]

It seems that in our refrigerator we also had a jar of almost used up Apricot Jam, which just happened to be sitting beside the aforementioned Orange Marmalade.  And as fate would have it, glancing casually at the orange color, I picked up the Apricot Jam, plopped the end of it onto my toast, and then took a big bite of the wrong thing.

[BLEECH! A thousand times bleech!]

And that’s how my morning started.  Reminding me that my comfort zones are there for good reasons.  To keep my safe, healthy– and HAPPY.  Which I am not, right now.

Published by

Ally Bean

Observant. Creative. Humorous. Adaptable. Happy enough. Midwestern by chance. Kindhearted most days.

73 thoughts on “In Which Breakfast Disappoints Me & I Am Not Happy”

  1. I could easily enjoy either orange marmalade or apricot jam, but biting in expecting one and finding the other would be a shocking wake up call. Perhaps it would be less so AFTER the first cup of coffee, but not welcome before the caffeine kicks in. I hope your day improves.

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    1. bobcabkings, I like both orange marmalade and apricot jam, but like you said when expecting one, the other one won’t do. I agree about the coffee. Had I been more alert to begin with I’d have grabbed the proper condiment from the frig. Mea culpa.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Well, you could, as was suggested to Alice, have jam every other day. And, the comment about the flow chart and the Beasty Boys reminded me of my favorite “kick” song, “Kick Your Own Ass” by World Entertainment War.

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    1. philmouse, I see that you understand my bitterness. I agree, Orange Marmalade is the queen, Apricot Jam is a lady in waiting. Next time I have toast I’m grabbing plebeian old Grape Jelly. Now there’s a condiment that knows who it is, never fooling anyone by putting on airs.

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  2. Mixups like this is why I avoid eating breakfast until I’m fully awake and aware . . . and why I set up my tea maker the night before so I have only to press a button (instead of choosing a tea flavor in slumber induced stupor).

    That said, perhaps Afternoon Tea this pm? With homemade scones and marmalade?

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    1. nancy, I usually eat breakfast mid-morning, but today I had to eat earlier. I can make a pot of coffee in my sleep, but obviously the choosing of condiments is beyond.

      I like your afternoon tea idea. Scones, yum… That’d put some joy in my day. Good idea.

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  3. Yeah, I get it. It’s like planning on eating the last slice of pizza for lunch only to find out your husband already ate it and you have to eat a sandwich. Bummer. Hope your day picks up from here.

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    1. Kate, that’s a good analogy. Not that I don’t like Apricot Jam, it just wasn’t what my tired mind had in mind. I tell you though, talk about being startled awake, I’m alert now! 🙂

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    1. Susan, I could go for strawberry jam with clotted cream. That’d work of me. Wouldn’t want to be accused of being uncouth in the way I serve my scones. 😉

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  4. Not a fan of orange marmalade. I don’t like the bits of skin (I don’t like pulpy orange juice either). Love apricot though. I want to know who finishes all the little bits that you don’t want to eat. You should give hubby big props for that if it is he! (Mine won’t eat the end of things either, peanut butter especially – drives me crazy to have containers with one teaspoon left in them!) I used to think I had to eat it all but now I try to mix it in with the new stuff…shhhh!

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    1. Janet, orange marmalade is something you either like or not. I cannot imagine that there’s any middle ground considering its texture.

      My husband eats all the end of things, although as I’ve gotten older I will, on occasion, eat the end of something. Usually because I’m too lazy to go to the store and buy it new.

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    1. Sarah, I admire the simplicity of that which you serve yourself for breakfast. However, I’d never make it through the morning without something more substantial. I’ve not seen Thin Mints cereal, but I can understand its appeal. They didn’t happen to have a Samoas one, did they?

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  5. Quirky. In contrast, I know someone who enjoys eating the last of things most, because she feels she’s getting the last of something good.
    While I like both apricot jam and marmalade, I don’t find them interchangeable, and I can taste the huge disparity. Apricot jam is NOT sunshine in a jar.

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    1. joey, my mother was all about the end of things, for the very reason you mentioned. I like both of these toast toppers, but like you said: “Apricot jam is NOT sunshine in a jar.” No truer words…

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  6. I fully support your decision not to eat the ends of things. The last bit of jam/jelly is always a bit runny and not as thickly spread as everything before. Plus the ends of bread are the worst. I usually donate mine to my dad because he eats just about everything.

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    1. Thank you, Akilah. Between you and me I think we’re the sensible ones. I am comfortable letting other people eat drib drabs out of the bottom of jars. Good use for your unwanted heels of the bread. Dads can be so useful. 😉

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    1. ParentingIsFunny, such a practical idea. More toast! And now that the Apricot Jam is all gone, never again shall a jar of it grace the refrigerator shelf. I’m over that flavor entirely.

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    1. Janis, I’m sure you can hold out a little longer. No doubt your husband will enjoy the end of the bread more than you will, so it’d be wrong to take that pleasure away from him! 😉

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  7. I never knew that there was such a dire difference between orange marmalade and apricot jam. I also don’t have a condiiment inmy life that brightens my soul like orange marmalade does for you. I may have to start dating other condiments until I find “the one.”

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  8. Well, this has opened my eyes to the whole using-up-the-last conundrum. I’ve always taken a heroic stance on using up the last of things. (Not that I dislike doing it or feel I play the martyr, or anything.) Now I see that I sensed this disinclination to eat or use up the last, and stepped forward. I became the closer for the sake of closure. It’s done; no need to blame anyone else for eating the last of the fellowship meal casserole, no mostly-empty dishes junking up fridge. Now that I know the world is made up of those who dislike the last and those who like to finish them off, I feel there is balance. Thanks for the enlightening, Ally!

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    1. Rilla Z, I know that this topic is a controversial one, so I appreciate you coming forward to share your point of view and experiences.

      You said that: “I became the closer for the sake of closure.” This is an admirable sentiment that I can get behind… in theory. But in practice, I fear, I am not able to follow through ‘cuz that idea is just too icky for me.

      However, I agree that by being true to our natures, we bring balance to the world, and that is a good thing. 🙂

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    1. bnzoot, the Apricot Jam we had was store-bought, and not tasty at all. I suspect that I’d adore homemade, but only if I wasn’t expecting to taste Orange Marmalade.

      I’m sorry that this time when I pushed against my comfort zone, it pushed back. But I do agree with you, in principle. When there’s no icky jam around.

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  9. I’m a big fan of apricot jam. Orange marmalade, not so much, except in cooking, as for glazes and such. But, you do you, AB.

    Now, heels of bread? Yes, please. Especially for cinnamon toast (World’s Most Perfect Food). If they go stale, I fling them out for the birds and squirrels (Nature’s Entertainment For The Resident Kitties). And the almost-empty peanut butter jars? I send them off to my grand-dog, Zydrunas, who can while away most of an hour trying to get those last dregs with his big tongue.

    Nothing wrong with Comfort Zones, in my opinion. We deserve our Comforts, hard-won as some may be.

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    1. nance, to each his or her own jam/jelly/marmalade of choice. There is no right or wrong here. I like your clever ways to use the end of things. My clever way is in the form of a husband who’ll eat just about anything. I agree about the comfort zones. Enjoy them, eh?

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  10. I heartily dislike apricots, so I would react the same as you. I had an issue with accidently buying cinnamon raisin muffins instead of whole wheat. I hate warm, squishy raisins. Unpleasant.

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    1. Margaret, I feel your pain. Not a fan of warm squishy raisins, either. For me the whole irritation of the morning toast debacle was that I was trying to move beyond my self-imposed limits. AND SEE WHAT IT GOT ME? The wrong condiment. *meh*

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  11. This appealed to my twisted sense of humour … and I’m still grinning. It was the “[BLEECH! A thousand times bleech!] … my comfort zones are there for good reasons”. bwahahahahaha!!!

    I must say, though … I’ve never given it much thought, but I don’t care for the last of most things either. Most curious. That explains all the unfinished cups of coffee and tea …

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    1. Joanne, glad to make you smile. I cannot overemphasize how awful that jam tasted to me in the moment. And no one to blame but myself for making the mistake. Hadn’t thought of it before, but I, too, leave cups of coffee and tea unfinished. Hmmm…

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      1. The question that remained unasked was – how did you recover?
        Eat the toast?
        Scrap off the offending apricot jam and add the marmalade?
        Or throw it all away and start over?

        Depending on the mood I was in, I could see myself doing any of the three.

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        1. I begrudgingly ate the toast with the jam. My mother’s voice inside my head said: “waste not, want not.” She lived by that mantra. I like Apricot Jam ok, just not as much as Orange Marmalade, so I survived.

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          1. Sadly, I know what you’re saying.

            Recently I find myself rebelling against that inner voice that says ‘waste not’.
            My mother survived Nazi-occupied Holland and because of it, she brought a lot of baggage to my childhood. I’ve spent most of my life trying to unload that baggage.
            Food is a HUGE part of it. Being brought up by a mother who lived through the “Hunger Winter”, I think I might take that baggage to the grave 😦

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            1. I can understand. My mother lived through the Depression as a child and never quite got over the horror of the possibility of having nothing. She passed it on to me in the same way that your mother did you. We try, don’t we? Different times, but…

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  12. Were you not wearing your spectacles, Bean? I know, I know. It’s way easy to pick up the wrong thing when so similar. I’m just teasing. 🙂 May your breakfast each and every day from now on be comfy and delish.

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    1. Tara, sadly I was wearing my specs, but my brain wasn’t on full yet. Plus the orange color, so similar, yet vastly different when it comes to taste! Thanks for the breakfast blessing. And the same to you, too.

      Liked by 1 person

  13. I guess this is one way we are diametrically opposite of each other. I wish they made a loaf full of nothing but heels, and it’s the crumbs and salt flakes at the bottom of a package of crackers/chips that are the big treat at the end of a bag!

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  14. I hate taking a great big bite of something I wasn’t expecting — even if it’s something I ordinarily like. I remember eating a jelly doughnut abroad once, and then discovering it was filled with curry paste. I like curry most of the time, but I still nearly fainted from the shock.

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