Yesterday afternoon as I was busy tapping away at the computer, I heard the magical sound of "pop goes the weasel" being pumped out of an ice cream truck. Oh, yes. It's that time o' year again!
Oh, sweet pied piper! I ran out with money clutched in my hand and waited for the ice cream truck to round the cul de sac and head back my way. It seemed to take an eternity and, yes, I felt a little silly. Especially since I was the only one in the whole neighborhood out there, young or old.
I selected a Strawberry Shortcake ice cream treat. And it was delicious.
As I ate it, I had a little dream of the ice cream truck coming through our neighborhood and all the children appearing out of their houses, behind bushes, under rocks (wherever they're hiding) and meeting the ice cream truck with me. And I announce to them "ice cream all around...my treat!"
That would've been so much more fun than just one almost middle-aged woman bounding out of her house under some sort of ice cream truck music spell.
Does this story sound a little dejavu?
The same exact thing happened to me the summer before last and the music of the ice cream truck haunted me all summerlong. Last year, though, the ice cream truck didn't make an appearance in our neighborhood at all. I remembered wrong...see here for the truth.
I think I'll ride my bike to the new Panera that just opened down the street, order something ooey-gooey, and just spend some time daydreaming. Or maybe I'll pack my laptop safely in my basket and get up-to-date on other blogs, emails, etc.
First, though, I should prepare a few orders to go out today. I'm still waiting for the package from Corey to arrive from France. It should've arrived and we're trying not to worry. When it does come in, I have a whole bunch of orders to do. You guys gobbled up those lovely things the same way I gobbled up my strawberry shortcake ice cream snack.