Powdered Milk…

close up of milk against blue background
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

So growing up in the 1970s, we didn’t have the wide array of milk options that we have today. If there was a milk allergy in the house, there was but one choice: powdered milk. I have one word for it: Ugh!

You see, powdered milk didn’t taste even remotely similar to regular milk. Being raised with five other siblings, the milk was consumed rather quickly, so every night someone would have to make the powdered milk. We rotated the chore. I hated when it was my turn because it smelled, well, gross.

We also made orange juice from concentrate each night, but I didn’t mind that. As a matter of fact, I used a spoon to get the last drop of concentrate. Sometimes that last bit didn’t make it into the container. Call it my version of licking the bowl.

The milk was made in the green container, and the orange juice was mixed in the orange container. Pretty easy system…Well, not always.

One night someone (I seriously have no idea who) mixed up the containers so the juice was made in the green container. Dad was the first down to breakfast and proceeded to pour orange juice over his Grape Nuts. “Jesus Christ, Joni,” my father called out, yet he decided to take a bite of this liquid error. He liked it. From there on, Dad put orange juice on his Grape Nuts. I think he still does to this day.

I hopped on the OJ over cereal bandwagon because, as stated earlier, I hated the taste of powdered milk. I still eat, not just Grape Nuts, but all of my cereal with orange juice over it. People think I’m weird. To that I say, “Is that the only reason?” LOL!


Stay groovy…


(Copyright 2019 Susie Krivacic)

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