Ice Cream

In my family, like many others, food is synonymous with love.  We have used food as a reason to gather together, and a way to comfort ourselves or each other.  Right or wrong, many of my memories of my family deal with food, and lots of them involve ice cream.

I have a (vague) early memory of my parents putting me in the wagon, and walking us to Honey Hut for ice cream when we lived on Ira Avenue.  To this day, a cone with a scoop of Orange Blossom ice cream wins over any other snack food.

I have (lots and lots) of memories of walking up to Dairy Chalet with my family.  Our choices were limited here (chocolate, vanilla, or twist), and I would always hold my breath and hope for a few sprinkes, too.

Once a year, we were allowed to go to Friendly's.  Instead of ordering a meal, we were allowed to get a gigantic specialty sundae as our meal.  It was a slice (or about ten scoops) of ice cream heaven.

Occasionally, we would stop at Dairy Queen after a day of shopping.  This outing was tricky - I could never ask to stop for a cone, because that would "jinx" the opportunity. But I would hold my breath as we drove by the store, hoping my mom would pull into the parking lot. 

I think that my ice cream connection is now affecting my boys, too.  Danny and I have occasionally taken Anthony for a cone at Charlotte's, a tiny little ice cream shoppe up the street.  And my Gram always makes sure she has some ice cream treats to share with Anthony during our Thursday lunches. 

Too bad he likes to wear his ice cream as much as he likes to eat it!

There are still a few more weeks left before the weather turns too cold for a frozen treat.  I think I'll need to take the boys to Honey Hut for a scoop of Orange Blossom.