We finish a healthy vegan supper and Gerry moves toward the kitchen to clean up (house rule: she cooks, he cleans). I’m thinking of a photo of a soft serve ice cream cone that came up in my social media memories this morning. After spring break, when our granddaughter was here, we decided to forego ice cream for a while so I say nothing.
Then, from the kitchen comes a voice: “We should go down the hill for ice cream.” He’s joking. Kind of.
“I was just thinking about that!”
The serendipity of the moment seems to indicate that it’s meant to be.
“Do we have to get dressed?” I’m joking. Kind of.
But we’re not quite that far gone yet.
I head to the bedroom to put on some going-out clothes while Gerry finishes up in the kitchen. I have a good idea what he’s going to say when I come out.
”I was just thinking, maybe instead of getting an ice cream cone we should go to Save On and see if they have any on sale.”
I knew it. My husband’s practical when it comes to ice cream. For the price of two cones at a fast food place we can get a whole container of ice cream from the grocery store.
We end up buying not one, but two, containers of frozen yogurt. How quickly we capitulate.
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