I have no idea what’s going on in my garden today, because I was at the office until 9:30 p.m.
I’m pretty wiped out, but it feels good to sit down with a freezy pop and take it easy.
I know you know what I’m talking about when I say “freezy pop” — they’re those clear plastic tubes of fruit-flavored liquid that you put in the freezer. Once they’re frozen, you cut the end off and suck out the popsicle. There’s a brand called Flav-Or-Ice that my grandpa always used to buy for us and keep in his big freezer on his enclosed back porch.
I hadn’t eaten one in years, but my sister told me she’s been scarfing them down like a fiend lately. I got to thinking about them after she mentioned them, and I suddenly remembered how good they are, and what wonderful memories they conjure up.
They’re not the good brand (the good brand doesn’t have any of those yucky pink ones in the package), but the blue ones are pretty great. In fact, I think I’m going to give this nasty pink one to Songdog — who is being a good boy and sitting quietly next to my chair — and go see if there are any blue ones left in the freezer. If not, I’ll settle for purple.
And there’s another great thing about being a grownup: If you don’t like the freezy pop you are eating, you can feed it to the dog and get a different one … and there’s nothing anybody can do about it. So there. Nyah, nyah, nyah.
(whose husband e-mailed her tonight to report that he had sweet-talked the McDonald’s clerk into letting him trade when he didn’t get the toy he wanted in his Happy Meal)