Mr. Cereal

I'll be the first to admit I'm a picky eater. It doesn't take long after meeting me to figure that out. It could be a meal at a restaurant with a new friend or a potluck at work. The topic always (always!) comes up. Which is fine. After 31 years, I just don't give a damn if I come across as wacky because I have a short list of foods I eat, a much longer one of foods I won't touch, or because cereal makes up about two-thirds of my diet.

But with my current living situation, I'm meeting new groups of people weekly, on-site to volunteer for Habitat. Since I share a kitchen with these folks, my eating habits are on full display everyday, three meals a day. And that means the comments and questions quickly follow. Like these nuggets from the past two days:

• Stated while I was eating cereal at the kitchen table: "You're more than welcome to join us for any meal while we're here. It might add some variety to your diet."
• Once again, while eating cereal: "There's Mr. Cereal."
• And one more time while eating, you guessed it, cereal, this time for dinner: "Does your mother know that all you eat is cereal?"

I will say all of the groups have invited me to join them for meals. I like to think it's because of my wit and personality; however, I'm sure the facts I'm a poor VISTA volunteer and my seemingly monotonous meals attract an audience also play roles.

No matter the reason, I do try to join each group for dinner at least once during their stay. And if I forge some sort of connection with them, it will be more than once. I have met some interesting people so far, and our busy summer season has just begun.

Tomorrow night, Indian tacos are on the tentative menu. I think the cereal will be remaining on the shelf. Well, for dinner, at least.