My mother knows how to make the best of a situation. That second-to-last sentence makes me prouder than ever to be her daughter! :-)
From today's e-mail message:
I don't think I have told you about the ice cream truck, have I? We are both intrigued by it because the ice cream wagon seems like something out of long-ago days. I'm still surprised that it works here, where one can find a 711 within a few blocks of anywhere and nip in for an ice cream at any hour of the day or night. But our ice cream wagon is active; it drives along our street toward the harbor clanging its bell, then turns and drives back, clanging its bell. It then parks just on the other side of the school, (which is practically next door to us) and waits for customers to show up. I had gone to it once, out of curiosity, even bought some ice cream. A few days ago, we received an ad saying that the ice cream wagon would have a new product, the Swiss luxury ice cream Mövenpick, and they had a caramel flavor. Dad likes caramel ice cream, and it's not easy to find, so last night when I heard the bell clanging, I rushed out. Because my dumb house slippers fall off at the slightest provocation, I took them off in order to negotiate the stairs faster, then ran in my stocking feet along the wet sidewalk to the ice cream wagon. There I bought the caramel ice cream for Dad and vanilla with dark chocolate bits for me. Today I tried my luxury Swiss ice cream. What a disappointment! The ice cream itself had an almost sour taste. In the end, I dumped the whole thing out in a sieve, ran water over it to melt the ice cream, and ate the dark chocolate bits. How's that for pragmatism?
