I SCREAM, YOU SCREAM ...

I have been on an ice cream kick lately.

Nothing too terrible.  I mean, I'm not sitting in front of the boob-tube with a giant spoon sticking out of a carton of mint chocolate chip or anything like that.  It's just that it's summer, and, well, it's ice cream season.

I start last week with my sister.  On the way home from a day out in the scorching sun and walking ourselves miles and miles and miles all over Concord and Sudbury, we decide to stop for frozen yogurt.  This is a wonderful idea except that one of the yogurt dispensers is busted.  This shouldn't be too big of a problem since they have about a dozen more flavors to choose from, and I am happy to see that the wedding cake flavor functions.  But, I am quite upset to see that brownie batter fro-yo isn't offered today, so I bemoan that sad fact out loud.

"Yeah," the kid working the counter responds, "that's the one that broke."

A few days later, my friend returns from her second cross-country trek of the summer.  She is craving a burger, so we go out to eat.  After this, even though I am stuffed, I am craving an ice cream.  We go to a local homemade ice cream stop near her house and decide that we must get something outside of our usual comfort zone, so no chocolate chip cookie dough and no native strawberry.  We both end up with a flavor called Death By Chocolate.  It is yummy, and, yes, we are still alive but barely after eating it.

Today my pal is craving ice cream.  I could go either way, but the more she mentions "soft serve" and "chocolate," the more I am dying for a soft-serve ice cream right here, right now.  After all, it's a hot day.  We deserve a treat.  The problem is the nearest Dairy Queen is right smack-dab in the middle of the town in which I teach, so this is a no-no.  Then I remember another soft-serve ice cream place with portions larger and better than DQ, a place called Dairy Maid.

Across town we go, weaving through the back roads and exploring parts of the nearby town.  We make no pacts about comfort zone or anything like that.  We both order kiddie-sized cups, which holds more than enough ice cream.  My pal orders chocolate soft serve, and I cannot decide so I order a twist soft serve ice cream, half vanilla and half chocolate.

We sit in the car, for it is too hot to be out in the direct sun, and we suck down the soft serve as if we haven't eaten ice cream in days.  Granted it has only been twenty-four hours, but, truly, the time does pass slowly.  Hopefully, this ice cream expedition (from frozen yogurt to hard ice cream to soft serve) will satisfy my ice cream cravings for a few weeks.

Oh, who am I kidding?