the trouble with ice cream

There are 3 places to get ice cream in the small 107 square miles that make up Benezette. 

You’ve got those cute little premade sundae cups like from school or the public pool (and pints and half gallons, but I don’t need THAT much ice cream) at the Elk Crossing 555 General Store, Perry’s ice cream in off the wall flavors like tutti-frutti-elk-truffle (I made that up) at Elk Life, and good-old Hershey’s at Elk View.

But do you think any of those places are open on this random late spring Wednesday at 7pm when I decide I can’t go another minute without ice cream.  There’s no plot twist here. They aren’t. 

There’s also not a Sheetz or a WaWa (I don’t care which you prefer.  I’m fairly equal opportunity.) that’s close enough, but there is MJs in Kersey (which actually might be a little further than the Sheetz in St. Mary’s, but I’m taking a little creative license here).  Some locals are going to be mad when they find out I’ve let this cat out of the bag, so to speak.

Our (my?) neighbor, John, turned us on to this small, family owned gas station for fantastic Hershey’s flavors and economically priced, generous portions (I have to get a pup or mini size!) of hand-scooped ice cream.  They also have pre-made hoagies, pretty good pizza and an assortment of other ready made food items.  Plus, the bulletin board when you walk in the door is always overflowing with local happenings.

There are some tables inside and outside, which we’ve used in the past depending on how many people are with us.  Jeremy and I preferred to sit in the car, mostly with the radio on.  Sometimes we’d buy a few scratch off lottery tickets to play while we ate(I don’t think we ever won anything). 

He always finished his typical order of pizza and a large dish of some type of chocolate peanut butter ice cream before I finished my tiny mini dish.  If the timing was right, I’d still be eating my delicious ice cream when we often encountered the bachelor group of bulls that hang out on Caledonia Road.

But tonight, I get my pup sized dish of peanut butter cheesecake swirl and sit in the car alone.

I don’t turn the radio on because I can’t stand it.  I’d rather marinate in the silence.  But in my mind, I keep hearing – isn’t getting ice cream out a family activity?

Maybe I’ll pop over to Walmart and buy a half gallon to keep on hand in the camper – I’ve got enough going on in my head that I don’t need any more distractions when I just want some damn ice cream.