Bonus Blog: I Scream, You Scream…

August, 2011: We all scream for ice cream! This a fun bonus blog that realy doesn’t have much of anything to do with job hunting – time for a little break!

There is nothing like a sweet, creamy ice cream cone on a hot summer day! One of my all-time favorite flavors is maple nut, which is sometimes hard to find outside of the midwest (just like the previously mentioned Nut Goodie candy bar). However, it’s the Italians who make THE best ice cream – gelato. And you truly have to go to Italy for the best gelato. I’ve tried some versions of it here in the good ole USA, and it just isn’t the same! I spent a month in Italy some years back, and I just could not get enough gelato! The day before I left Venice, Italy, to fly back to the U.S., I think I visited three different gelato shops! YUM! Or as they say in Italian – Delizioso!

Italian gelato

However, the little ice cream ditty I am about to share took place back in my home state of North Dakota. You regular blog readers know that I recently took several job hunting trips back to my Motherland. Although ND is known for its frigid winters, the summers can very hot and humid! On one recent visit it was just that – a very warm and steamy summer day. We were at my parents home – an older house, which does not have air conditioning. Although my Dad, aka Pops/Fast Eddie, is an excellent cook (and he makes a killer rhubarb pie!), we decide it’s too hot for cooking and opt for take out from the local Dairy Queen! My sis Julie and I take everybody’s orders and hop in her car. Just as we are about to pull away, up drives my niece Mallory and her adorable two-year old daughter – Little Miss Mya. We ask if they want anything from the DQ. “I want an ice cream cone from the DQ” Mya says in a rather solemn, serious voice, her big blue eyes looking very blue. “All righty Mya, We’ll get you an ice cream cone.” I say.

Little Miss Mya!

And we’re off. My one and only sis Julie is one of the funniest people I know. And we can get a serious case of the giggles in just about any situation. It really doesn’t take much. We’ve been known to laugh hysterically (and as silently as possible) just listening to each other’s off-key voices singing hymns in church.

We place our order at the DQ, and make what turns out to be an extremely bad tactical error. The cute young teen-age staffer hands me the ice cream cone, while the rest of the order is being prepared. My sis says that we should have asked for the cone last, cuz on another recent DQ food run she ordered a cone for my Mom, and it was a melty mess by the time she got home. Of course, it’s icy cold in the air-conditioned DQ, so, for now, the cone is fine.

Now you have to remember, Devils Lake ND is a small town – population approximately 7,000. It really doesn’t take long to get anywhere in town. You can drive from one end of the town to the other in about 10 minutes flat!

Our order complete, we exit the chilly DQ, and are hit by a giant wave of oven-like air. The ice cream cone immediately begins to melt. “RUN” I yell to my sis and we race the short distance to the car. We hop in, and my sis cranks up the AC. We literally peal out of the parking lot. “GO GO GO”, I yell to my sis. The cone continues to melt. I envision handing Little Miss Mya her messy, melted ice cream cone, and her big blue eyes filling up with tears! That simply cannot happen!

I try to strategically position the air vents for maximum cooling on the cone. My sis races down the streets of DL, barely slowing down for stop signs and cruising through a yellow light. We decide if stopped by the cops, we’ll just tell them the truth “Officer, a little girl’s happiness is at stake here in the form of an ice cream cone.” And he/she will wave us off, telling us to hurry. “Get that cone to that little girl!” the cop will yell.

My sis and I are laughing hysterically. “I’m gonna pee my pants” my sis screams! As we pull up in front of my parents’ house just a few minutes after leaving the DQ, my sis doesn’t bother to park. She slams on the brakes and yells “GO!” I dash up the steps, my hands sticky with melted ice cream, which is now running down my arms. I fly into the kitchen. Miss Mya is already seated at the table. I dump the mostly melted cone on a paper plate in front of her. “Oh!” she exclaims and proceeds to push the cone around the plate as if it were a toy – totally not interested in eating it.

Moral of the story: Get a blizzard instead of cone! They melt much more slowly!

Lisa, Devoted Auntie and Sis

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