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When I grew up, oatmeal for breakfast was a staple. The “oatmeal pan” was a heavy-duty pot and I knew how far to fill the water. Add a bit of salt and when it was boiling, pour in oatmeal to the right consistency. The hitch was that I was making breakfast for a fairly large family (9 children). Shortly after I’d been married (less than two weeks), I decided one morning I wanted oatmeal for breakfast. Going by experience rather than practicality, I pulled out the largest pot in my cupboard. . .

By-the-way, oatmeal cereal does not reheat well.

A few things have changed since then. One, I no longer make oatmeal to feed a battalion. In fact, I no longer use oatmeal except in a mollases, chocolate chip cookie.

Now, every morning I get up and make two things: a green smoothie breakfast and my DH’s lunch. Green Smoothies are THE BEST! My sister introduced them to me, but the site that has all the info is Green Smoothie Girl.com Basically it’s spinach and other greens with fruit. With blueberries they turn out like purple mud, but they taste great. When we hiked Subway—this was our breakfast and it carried us well until lunch.

So second, I pack his lunch. This part is challenging. Although a green smoothie is great day after day (at least I think so), a sandwich is not. (Even with variations such as wraps.) Salads get rotated in, but hardly seem sufficient even with chips, fruit and a healthy cookie. So ideas are welcome—left-overs are something I’m still trying to figure out (because eventually I learned to cook for two).

At work, his lunch sack goes into one of the fridges in the break room and one day I asked, “How do you know which is yours?” He assured me it wasn’t a problem, but I still thought about it. The next day his sack read: “best guy ever.” Needless to say, it drew attention.

Other days have been:

Able to leap tall buildings
007
My other car’s an Aston Martin
Jim West
Bruce Wayne
And most recently: Today I brought the bat mobile.

This morning I switched tactics. His sack read simply: Mountains cathedral.

My poor DH. He just smiles indulgently and takes his lunch. What I don’t know is if he’s actually putting it in the fridge at work or if he just leaves it in the car. . . (Not the Aston Martin).

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