There are days when an ice-cream cone is entirely appropriate.
Last summer, when I worked at an old fashioned soda shop in Colorado, ice-cream seemed to be appropriate nearly every day. I mean, yes, I care about my hips, but WHO can resist Mud Pie? It was my cherished baby of a flavor, and I was so proud of it; I couldn't help but bring it up whenever a customer was having a challenge committing to a flavor. (In my book, that's the point when you seize the day and go for the triple scoop.)
"Sir, you look like you're having a little trouble deciding. May I recommend my personal favorite to you? Mud Pie is a coffee based ice-cream with chunks of chocolate and Oreo pieces. But if you like a little stronger coffee taste and dark chocolate bits, you might go for Espresso Chip."
I had a lot of emotional investment in the coffee ice-cream flavors. I felt a little vulnerable recommending one, because what if the customer followed my lead and then decided he didn't like it, or worse, what if he ignored my suggestion and chose Black Walnut? Honestly folks. Black Walnut???
Dear ice-cream shop of 36 flavors, I miss you. Black Walnut, I do not miss you so much. Nor you, Peanut Butter Cup. You are tasty but impossible to scoop. PBC, have mercy on the forearm.
Today was an ice-cream day. One, the seasonal rain and fog lifted today, leaving a bright blue sky and a temperature tip-toeing into the 60s. Two, Aaron is sick with nasty sinus stuff. We drove out to Wal-mart to pick up his medicine and a box of Kleenex, and well, after spending the big bucks on prescription drugs, it was clear we needed some ice-cream. Dairy Queen isn't my beloved Colorado shop, but the soft serve vanilla cone does hold a place in my heart.