We all scream! For ice cream!
Picture this....trying to loose 20 pounds by pounding an elliptical machine but cruising through the Dairy Queen Drive Thru and asking, "Do you have the Candy Cotton Blizzards yet?"
And being told, "No, not yet."
Please please please! I love those things. What is it they use for that candy cotton flavor? Sort of like hot rocks...sort of not. What ever, I love it.
Long ago summer was officially announced by the sounds of the Mr Softy Truck approaching your street, driving very slow, allowing all the kids within hearing distance - and us kids had the ears of German Shepherds back then - enough time to run home and beg, cry, thrown ourselves on the ground and pound the floor for that one thin dime that would purchase a sprinkle cone.
They were gigantic cones with a little twist on top.
When my daughter was young the Mr Softy truck was replaced by a Popsicle man who flew through the neighborhood so fast you had to think he was meeting his drug connection at his apartment in a half hour.
No sooner would Bridget come running into our humble abode and shake me down for fifty cents for some sort of Bomb Pop, and back out on the street returning in minutes with tears in her eyes that she had missed him.
Poor baby. Hopefully he would swing back by and all the little kids who missed him would be waiting with their money clutched tightly in their sweaty hands.
It's officially summer.
The last Popsicle I bought was for a the little kid of a friend. Nothing says summer quite like the stained face smile of a child sucking the red white and blue off of a Bomb Pop.
On, Mr. Softy, will you please come back?