Tag: ice cream

Bluebell and Ice Cream

Bluebell and Ice Cream (also properly titled, but not necessarily known as “Bluebell and Pizza) for year number eight was a success. My man went with me, and we rushed over after the cool opera showcase – it was very cool, by the way – that ended at 9pm. We arrived around 9:30, but the party was still in swing, so we had some somewhat melty but cold Bluebell ice cream sandwiches and ice cream, talked with people, and let the dog a bunch. As we were leaving, we ended up with the host, checking out all the furniture she had made in her recent woodworking endeavors, and also playing on and checking the tuning of the piano she recently inherited (though doesn’t yet know how to play). My man, of course, spent the piano time roughhousing with the dog, having a grand ole time that contrasted to the previous ‘people time’ of the party itself. I could totally relate.

Anyway, it was a great evening, and I enjoyed that I enjoyed being social like that.

Thank you, God, for such a blessing as ease in such a setting, and especially for the joy of it all and the extra blessing of balance as we got the two-on-two time with the host and her dog afterward. Thank you. Amen.

P.S. I ran into a buddy from high school at the opera thing – had given him some extra tickets we’d had – and another buddy from high school and college who is an awesome musician, though on the spectrum, so is often a tad over the top or odd in social settings. However, the irony was that the former was a touch awkward and the latter was quite comfortable and fun tonight! It was silly, yet good. I was glad to see and be with them both. And it was especially lovely to have the extra-long hug the musician gave me – he always hugs me when he sees me, though he doesn’t seem to touch most people. He still talked to me while facing a slightly other direction, as though looking for someone ‘somewhere over there’, and he talked in the same upper class British cadence without the accent, as he always does, but it was surprisingly comforting to be in such an unchanged and familiar situation that brought up so many positive memories and feelings. And he told me how I can now watch the opera that he wrote and had performed! Looking forward to watching it on a television soon!

Post-a-day 2022

Belly…

And sometimes you have three cones of soft serve with dinner… each, of course: two as an appetizer and one as dessert on the way out.

Ah, the blessings of Mexican restaurants with self-serve soft serve… the fact that it is by the door still cracks me up. We actually went one evening just to see if we could have some soft serve. My man went inside to ask if he could buy the soft serve. He didn’t quite manage the question, but he still ended up with permission to take some ice cream for us both, even though we weren’t dining, and so was just waiting in the car! Score, for sure!

So, having three cones tonight was another bonding event for the both of us. I feel best eating paleo, yet, here we were, scarfing down ice cream on cones and chips with salsa and chile con queso… some Friday nights, it seems, just call for Mexican food and ice cream, it seems.

Afterward, as we walked to the car, eating our third cones, we detoured to the stadium across the way, because there was a game happening. We ended up getting a perfect picture of me with the stadium’s scoreboard, which happens to have my family name on it in big letters (though I’ve no idea why). We’d gone by on the bikes one day, but couldn’t get inside the fence without breaking laws. Tonight, however, the freshman or JV football game inside was free of charge to attend, and you got to walk on the track (only way for visitors to get to the other side) on the scoreboard side(!). Thus the awesome photo! Yippee!

Also, my man, naturally, spilled some ice cream on the bottom hem of his shorts while walking to the stadium. Good thing I grabbed napkins on the way out (specifically with him in mind, mind you)! But, when we were waiting for a play to end, so we wouldn’t be so ridiculously obvious taking photos by the field – keep in mind that we already stood out, our being the only white people in a stadium of mostly black and some Hispanic people – I started helping him identify spills and cleans himself up. Fortunately, the only one on his clothes was the shorts hem spill. It was a small drop. So, I figured a little moisture could go a long way to help out the chocolate spill on the khaki shorts.

However, let’s think about this for a second. We’re standing under the edge of the bleachers, down at the far end where no one is sitting anyway. I lean down and suck on the hem of his shorts a few seconds… meaning that I have my head down quite near his groin, though actually well below it… how bad does that look from a distance?!?!?! So it goes, I suppose… w broth cracked up as we both realized it at about the same time, and I said it allowed. 😛

Anyway… it was a great time, and it, surprisingly, wasn’t too hot. I even had on long sleeves still, and a scarf, from the restaurant. Very decent weather tonight.

Thank you, God, for such a lovely and silly evening and night. Help us to sleep well, please, that we have the energy and attitudes to pursue your will and share your love tomorrow. In your name, I pray. Amen.

What would you do-oo-oo…

… for a Klondike bar?!

William Isaly created the Klondike bar back in 1922. That’s a hundred years ago. One-double-zero. Years. He named them after the Klondike river up in the Yukon (in Canada), supposedly because he wanted the name to elicit a sense of cooler-than-cold cold. They were a local item for years and years, sold in Ohio and Pennsylvania, and originally six for $1.49. Eventually, they turned massive, though.

And they’re still famous today.

What is one big part of that fame, you wonder? In my opinion, it was the branding. Sure, they’re delicious. But why do we have some in our freezer right now? Because my man started whistling the jingle the other day, and we haven’t been able to stop thinking about them since. What’s more, they’re a blast to eat, because I feel so snooty and fancy every time I open one up with that fancy foil wrapper. Mr. Isaly knew what he was doing, wrapping them in foil. And Mr. Whoever-it-was was the same when he added the jingle in 1982. Thank you, both!

And thank you, God for such a silly and delicious treat! Amen.

Post-a-day 2022

Happy Blue Bell and ice cream!

In the Spring of 2015, Blue Bell closed production and recalled all of its products from stores. The Southern staple remained entirely absent for the following few months, and many were concerned about the possible permanent shutdown of the Texas company. It had been around for just over 100 years (founded 1907, I believe), and was a prominent fixture in the lives of moth Southerners. We felt a personal hit by the closure – even those of us who rarely even ate the ice cream anymore – and we all felt the risk of losing a whole piece of ourselves, should the company shut down permanently.

However, on August 31, the first phase of redistribution began, and Houston was graced once again with those beautiful tubs of ice cream on its grocery shelves. Once things calmed a bit, and it was again an accessible commodity – though the ice cream sandwiches took another few years to return to grocers (April of 2019!!) -, a friend of mine decided to throw a party. She especially was beside herself with joy at the return of Blue Bell. So, we all gathered somewhat spontaneously at her house one Saturday evening to revel in the delights of ice cream.

Of course, ice cream doesn’t exactly make for the greatest of meals. However, such forethought is not exactly one of this particular friend’s fortés. Therefore, amidst the indulgences of ice cream and happy conversations, it was determined that pizza would be the easiest solution, mid-party. So, we ordered some pizzas to go with our Blue Bell. Thus began our yearly celebrations of what we unintentionally called for years “Blue Bell and Ice Cream”, but technically had named “Blue Bell and Pizza”. (Now I remember what we named it, and know that we accidentally said it wrong for years without noticing. However, I prefer our Freudian initial naming, and so still use it most of the time.)

Alas, tonight was our yearly celebration, and so I, once again, had my yearly serving of Blue Bell Cookies ‘N’ Cream, and had some fancy schmancy pizza that was gluten-free yet delicious. (Naturally, I feel terrible compared to how I typically feel on any given day. However, it’s only once a year, so I don’t mind it too much. Especially when it means I get to dive into my historical regional identity for a bit, and also reminisce on some great parts of my childhood.)

So, Happy Blue Bell and Ice Cream, folks! Seven years strong, and we finally have real ice cream sandwiches again! (Seriously, if I’d gotten a box of those, I’d have eaten almost the whole thing myself. And I only say almost, because I know my mom would have demanded at least a couple for herself. Those things are spectacular, and slightly addicting. No joke, either.)

Post-a-day 2021

Rootbeer bloat

Y’all…, I had a child-sized root wet float this evening, and, for the past couple hours since, I have felt sick to my stomach. Definitely in that gray area that is much too close to vomiting than I prefer. As we know, vomiting is one of the most miserable things for me in life, and I make strong efforts to stay away from it.

That being said, though I have always loved rootbeer floats, I do not foresee my having many more in the near future. Not that I have processed sugar or dairy or sodas almost at all, but still…, Whenever I do have something outside of my norm now, it is not likely to be a rootbeer float.

How odd…

Post-a-day 2021

Oops

I tried to make a paleo-ish vanilla malted milkshake today. It used a frozen, cooked sweet potato, along with the vanilla and coconut milk and almond milk and some dates, as well as the non-paleo malted milk powder.

Guess what. It tasted like sweet potato and malt. It was okay as a weird sweet potato smoothie-ish thing. But it was a terrible vanilla malt.

Just dreadful.

Post-a-day 2021

Malted milkpsych

We went to Galveston specifically to have a malt together. One of my favorite parts of having a malt, aside from the malt flavor itself, is having the cold, cold beverage served in the tall, frosted, metal mixing cup, and eating it with the long metal spoon. Usually, my mom eats what is served in the glass, and I have exclusively what is still in the metal cup. There’s just something about it that completes the experience for me.

We arrive at the shop today, and discover that the confectionary is only serving items in styrofoam cups at present…

Well, I’ve waited close to two and a half years at this point, so I suppose I can wait a while longer to have this malt experience.

In the meantime, my mom has determined to do her best effort of making a vanilla malt for me at her house on Sunday afternoon. She supposedly has all the necessary ingredients and tools, so we shall see what happens…

Post-a-day 2021

Quote of the day

“I think the takeaway quote of the day is, ‘Not even Vanilla Bean.’”

She had said, “If you don’t stretch, all you can do is Vanilla. And I mean you’re stuck with not just Vanilla, but super bland Vanilla… not even Vanilla Bean.”

Folks, stretching the whole body is immensely important, period. It also allows for loads more opportunities in life, especially in unexpected ways, when we keep the body stretched out, strong, and ready for anything.

Be prepared, and Life will meet you all along the way, and in unexpectedly wonderful ways.

Post-a-day 2021