We're having a party at our house this evening and then heading out to see fireworks. I went out yesterday to pick up some ice cream for our celebrating. I had other groceries to get, so I saved the ice-cream aisle for last. Mistake. Since our illness and all of our crazy diets, I can no longer just "grab something." I have to read every ingredient label of every brand of processed food. I have to dig for the freshest fruit or vegetable. The mental strain from picking out just the right wine, salsa, chips - both potato and tortilla, ice-cream cones, fruit for the homemade sorbet (for the three of us on the SC diet,) plus finding the answer to the last minute "What should we have for dinner tonight?" question had fatigued me. Not to mention the fact that my body had started complaining loudly for my skipping its afternoon rest time. It was in this condition that I faced the Great Wall of Ice Cream.
Do you know how many brands of ice cream that grocery stores carry? Do you know how many different sizes, prices, flavors, and fat levels there are to choose from? I opened every freezer door in order to perform the ingredient examination ritual. (Did you know that some ice cream is made with skim milk? And I don't mean just the diet ice cream.) Of course, this procedure immediately fogged each door up so that when it closed, it was impossible to see through. This was bad enough when I was the only person at The Wall, but then there was a "run" at the ice cream section - as if a blue-light special had just been announced - and everyone stared at the opaque doors and looked at me, thinking, "She did it."
By the time I had picked out a couple of flavors of sorbet for my dairy-free guests, found my husband's favorite ice cream in his favorite brand, and struggled over choosing a few other flavors that I hoped would be close to my guests' favorites, I had become the "Ice Cream Aisle Greeter." I helped a couple find the "lite" ice-cream in their specified brand and I quickly opened a freezer door for another, to prevent the humility of a glare. Still, I wasn't completely satisfied with the flavors I'd chosen, which at that point, brought waves of panic into the fog that resided in my brain. I quickly exchanged a brand and flavor with another, grabbed another carton of a different flavor at the last minute, then hurried over to the shortest check-out line I could find. My panic receded but gave way to an overwhelming confusion, causing a final surrender to all coherent consciousness. I did get a glimpse of way more ice cream containers on the conveyor belt then I remember putting in the cart; I had to ask the clerk why the machine wouldn't swipe my VISA; and when the bagger asked if I needed help out, I replied with a squeaky "Please."
After dinner, I told Brent he should go down to our freezer to dish himself up a sampling of the ice cream I'd purchased for our party. He came up and said, "I'm in ice cream heaven!" Isn't it great that my husband loves ice-cream? *smile*
Hope you all have a fun day.
And just so your time spent here won't be completely wasted on my foolishness, here's a bit of wisdom (completely unrelated to ice cream) it wouldn't hurt us to think about as we contemplate our freedom:
"The true danger is when liberty is nibbled away, for expedients, and by parts."
-- Edmund Burke