I love to eat ice cream when the white stuff is coming down. It's doing it again, and I just finished a pint of Haaagen-Dazs Butter Pecan. Since it's about 65 degrees F in here, my core is not only fluffy, but warm, as well.
My son is staying for a few days, and he's been surprised at the cold. Having been raised in the desert, he's only had a visitor's relationship with cold weather and snow. Well, maybe a scout ice-camping relationship, but that's been years ago, and he must have forgotten. He may be re-thinking his desire to relocate to the nearest town in favor of somewhere a bit warmer.
I'm still working on the second draft of my novel. One of my highly esteemed readers didn't get the half-revised first draft copy I sent her, so I just fired it off again. Now I'll be on tenter hooks all over again, waiting for her estimation of the value of the book. First drafts are filled with puck-green dreck, so I hope she can spot any gems buried therein.
Getting back to the title question, I must confess: I love to eat ice cream in any weather. That contributes to my fluffy core, I'm sure. Do you find yourself eating ice cream under certain circumstances? What are they?
If I was enjoying 65 degree weather, I might contemplate eating ice cream too. Not that I don't like it, but it's not my favorite treat when the high is about 33 in Utah. I love Dreyer's Peppermint Candy ice cream though, and I can be persuaded to eat some, no matter what the temperature. Eating ice cream was always a special treat in my family during my growing up years. In fact, my sister was named after an ice cream customer. My father worked at an ice cream shop in the mid '60's just outside of Berkeley campus. A man used to bring his young daughter into the shop--her name was Shoshauna. And the name stuck with my father through three daughters and finally, daughter number four received the name.
ReplyDeleteOh, it was cold outside that day. I'd managed to get a tiny part of my mobile home up to 65 degrees with a space heater.
ReplyDeleteI once had a guy tell me we should get married, and he would name our first girl-child "Manassah." I politely declined his offer of marriage. The next time we met, with our respective spouses in tow, he slugged me on the arm. Hard. I never knew what his beef was, but I learned not to be within striking distance of him whenever we met again.
Wait, there was another encounter, between times. I was with my fiance, and he was un-attached. He called me an unprintable name, totally unprovoked. He must have been unhappy at my rejection.
Getting back to the subject, thanks for your comment on ice cream and names, Heather.