Ice Cream (The rest of the story)

I haven't been the best at blog writing this summer, but as I've said before, I would rather live life than blog about it.  I just need to set aside some time for writing, or get me something more mobile to write with.  Back in June or July I wrote this blog about the new ice cream truck in our area.  You can find them on facebook under King of Creams! 

 http://www.queenie930.blogspot.com/2013/06/ice-cream.html

All summer long I have waited to re-connect with the ice cream truck, but my timing was off, and the one time I was home I didn't have any cash.  Can you imagine paying for a cone with a debit card?  Do they even take them??  The weather (up until now) hasn't been overly warm either, so ice cream really hasn't been on my brain, although I love to hear the truck go by.  It brings back so many good childhood memories.

As I have mentioned before, I don't like the heat.  This summer has been full of gorgeous 70 degree days, up until these last few.  This week we have had a couple of "wringers".  The temps are in the 90's with 60 plus percent humidity.  Blah.  I hate fans, and I don't have an air conditioner, so the nights are long and I am not exactly pleasant........

Tuesday I just woke up crabby, and it continued from there.  I ended up working late, and then had to slug around in the soup to do errands.  By the time I got home I was ready to deck someone, anyone!  I got out of the car, and I heard it!  "ICE CREAM!" (Do you have cash?) "Yes!  I do!  I do! (have you forgotten that you are lactose intollerous?) (sp wrong on purpose, it's what the goovers call it) "SHUT THE HELL UP, I'M HAVING SOME ICE CREAM!"

So I purchased a chocolate chip cookie dough one scoop, and told the lady how much I appreciated her.  I even found another dollar to stick in the tip jar.  Even though $2.25 for a one scoop is a bit pricey in my opinion. (Although I'm sure with the prices of everything today that's the norm.)  Totally worth it at that particular moment though.  My entire mood shifted as I stood sweating beside my car, shoving the ice cream into my face as fast as I could, while it melted down my hand.  My groceries were wilting in the front seat, but I didn't care.  When I got the scoop down to a manageable size I brought groceries into the house with two one handed trips. 

This blog could have been called "The Day the Ice Cream Lady Saved My Life."  I posted on facebook that night, "Sometimes when you have to work late and do errands in ninety degree heat, the ice cream truck comes along!!!", and included the picture below.  Thank you King of Creams!!  It's so awesome to have an ice cream truck back in the area!  It goes to show how someone just doing their job can absolutely make someone else's day!  

Oh, and on a side note........ the ice cream didn't bother me at all.  :)  It almost makes me want to try milk again.  Almost......

 

Heaven!

Pumpkin Cookie

It's a B.D. story!  (before David)

I have told this story a million times, but I don't believe I have blogged it.  A patient came in today and asked if someone was buried next door, thus the story crept back into my head.  Let me 'splain.

My office building is located between an empty bakery (East End Bakery) and an empty lot, which was the site of Palmer's Barber Shop, where my brother Jerry would always get his hair cut, and shellacked when we were kids.  I don't know what kind of of goop Mr. Palmer used, but it stunk to high heaven.  At the edge of the sidewalk there is a foot stone. Wait, let me show you.  (ah technology)

Apparently Mr. Palmer was known as the "Mayor of East End", and no, he isn't buried there.

So let us return to the good ol' seventies.  I'm going to guess it was '75 because I wasn't in school full time yet, and I know it was fall because of the cookie later in the story.  I would have just turned five.  It was an Indian summer afternoon, and conditions were very dry.  Dry enough for a train to start a wildfire on the other side of the big highway, and that's where the trouble began.

Oh, and I guess it's important to know that I was in no way, shape, or form allowed to be next to, let alone cross highway two.  Period.

I was playing down the block at Vicki's house, and her older sister Paula (Vicki's Mom was at work.)  wanted to take the two of us across the highway to see the fire. I guess in my five year old mind it was alright to go along, because Paula was older and was with us.  Then again, my Mom was home, I should have asked her, but I knew she'd say no, so......la di da.   

On this particular day my brother Jerry was going to Palmer's for a hair cut, then we were picking up Dad from work. Way back in the day we were a one car house, like most folks, so if Mom had things to do we would all have to bring Dad to work and pick him up.  I will assume I was supposed to be home at a particular time, and when I didn't show up my Mom would have had to go looking.  Some neighbor must have seen us cross the highway, because she found me.  (insert scary music)

I have no memory of crossing the street.  I recall the smell of fire, but not the fire itself.  I was more interested in the frogs hopping away from it, and dancing around in the tall grass. It was very windy out, and there I was with my lil freckled face, dancing and twirling, pony tails bouncing, and I VIVIDLY remember whirling around to see the car pull up, and my Mother getting out.  Things are a little sketchy after that.  I'm fairly certain I got a swat.  We went to the haircut, then to the bakery and each got a cookie.  It's the cookie that always stands out for me, and usually triggers my memory of the story.  It was a hard, pumpkin shaped sugar cookie, that had those big sugar granules (orange) on it, with a raised outline of the triangle eyes, nose, and mouth. Then off to get Dad, and I'm sure we discussed it the whole way home, while I ate my cookie, which is probably why seeing those cookies always unnerves me a little. :)

You can imagine how peeved my Mother was.  First I wasn't home on time, then I disobeyed, crossed a dangerous highway, to go to see a fire...... lets just say that Tater comes by some of her ways honestly. 

When my Mother would talk about the incident she would say "Paula got spanked, Joanie got grounded for two weeks, and I got Vicki, because her Mother felt bad."  I didn't get off the hook because I was five and led astray,  I knew the rules, the end.  Ah, life with a Mother who was a former nun. 

Potato of Milk

Once upon a time, somewhere in the 1970's we watched the show "Sesame Street."  Who didn't back then?  There weren't many other options.  They did a little cartoon on there where a young African American boy is going to run an errand for his mother.  He needs to remember three things.  A load of bread, a container of milk, and a stick of butter.  He says these things over and over on his way and does remember to get all of them.

Fast forward to somewhere in the 1990's.  My sister and I are at Mom's working on something and I am trying to remember a list of things. I repeat it over and over and Kate says, "Hey, that's just like Sesame Street!  You know, a potato of milk?"

Now I had no idea what she was talking about, and that happens a lot.  My sister is..... how to put this nicely..... kinda nerdy, and also because of the brain surgeries she sometimes uses words incorrectly.  Which usually results in hilarity at her expense.  Luckily she's a good sport, or is just to kind to kill me.  The following, however, happened before most of said surgeries.

Me: What are you talking about?  (Even Mom stopped to listen.)

Kate: You know!  A loaf of bread, a potato of milk, and a stick of butter.  The little boy going to the store on Sesame Street?

Me:  BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Kate: What??

Me:  Try CONTAINER of milk.....

Kate: Huh?

Me: It's CONTAINER of milk!   HAHAHAHAHAHAHA  (Even Mom was laughing)

Kate: Nice Joanie, make fun of the little girl who can't hear out of one ear.

Me:  Ok, I'm not going to buy that one.  What exactly did you think a potato of milk was???

Kate: I don't know.  I thought it was an African American thing.

Me:  BAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Kate:  Oh shut up.

Me:  Stop blaming your hearing disability....... it's the other one...... (her not so bright disability)

Kate: *chuckling  SHUT UP.

Of course I couldn't.  I have retold that story many times, and I laugh my head off when I do.  I am laughing now as I write it, thinking about how she's just going to love that I blogged it.  :) *waving*  Hi Kate!

Just wait until I blog about her texting abilities!  You never know what you're going to get because she doesn't check the auto correct. :)  Great fodder for an older sister to use as torment! 

So today I am thankful for my sister.  We are almost polar opposites, but have a great amount of love and respect for each other.  Happy Thanksgiving Kate...............did you make potato of milk after you took the pirate?  I don't want a phone, I want the gold that's in the oven.  ♥