I had corn flakes this morning.

Jeff Schuler thought Beans For Breakfast came from a line in Billy Madison (my old roommate Jon’s favorite movie). Google finds hundreds of other uses of the phrase, so to relieve tension and satisfy my vast readership, I’ll admit that I made the name up all by my own self.

It was the title of my unfinished Nanowrimo novel. The main character would occasionally fry up bacon, eggs, toast, tomatoes, and baked beans for breakfast. He’d picked this up from his father, who had picked it up from his father, who’d picked it up from his childhood growing up in Scotland.

I’d excerpt an appropriate passage here, but looking over it I’m reminded of why I abandoned it half finished. But the whole thing is terrible and awkward, the title was the most elegant part of the story.

Once you learned that I really did have a Scottish grandpa, you might assume that I’d borrowed my character’s habits from my own breakfast/family. Well, no. During the three weeks I was in Scotland I sometimes had beans or black pudding with my breakfast, but I would never be patient enough to assemble a breakfast that included that many elements on my own. My dad makes a fine scrambled egg, but to my knowledge he has never cooked beans before noon. And it was rumored that my grandpa ate only porridge every morning of his life.

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