Okay, sometimes it's the little things...
I'm sitting here under the SEB (sweet electric blanket) because it is a cold, cruddy, gray day. It needs to snow or get off the pot. Then, I hear the side door thunking shut and the roar of a departing truck, which means some sort of parcel is here. No idea what it might be, Christmas is way over, and I have ordered nothing since well before. So I dragged myself away from my novel to see what might be here and....my gray day is immediately brightened!
Yay! It's one of my strange favorite things....Scott's Porage Oats, which I have to get online through British specialty stores. I picked some up at a British shop[pe] over the summer when I was back in Chicagoland, and became an addict. But there's nothing close to that kind of shop here in the middle of nowhere. So after we ran out, I found it online and ordered 2 big boxes. I reordered about a month ago and it was backordered. Totally forgot about it with the holidays, travel, etc.
Anyway...I LOVE THIS STUFF!!! (It's not the guy in the kilt, honest.) For some reason, despite all the Quaker, Silver Palate, Bushmill, steel cut, hand rolled by blind midgets at a Croatian orphanage varieties of oatmeal you can find out there these days, Scott's, cooked with more milk than water with a bit of salt and brown sugar tossed in, is THE BEST. Now, to our British and Scots friends, this is probably as bland and bourgeois as it gets -- maybe Scott's is the Quaker Instant of the UK -- but I tell you, nothing comes close. My beloved is making beady eyes at the boxes and asking if it's wrong to have oatmeal for lunch, so I know it's not just me.