Not too long ago, an amazing place opened up in the city – a gelato parlour.
The delightfully named Sprinkles was carefully positioned close to the main campus of the university so that they could
make maximum profits offer tasty brain-food to the poor, hard-working academics.
Husby and ice-cream go back a long way, and he has a considerable passion for the stuff*, so naturally, I kept the place a secret from him (visions of bankruptcy danced in my head) but decided that I might let him know about it in time for his birthday, cos I’m a nice wife like that.
Needless to say, Husby was very excited.
A friend of ours (who has a passion for ice-cream which could rival Husby’s – one year she persuaded me to visit the ice-cream van after work so many times that the ice-cream man knew us and would give us extra ice-cream or flakes with each order) had already sampled the delights of Sprinkles 30+ flavour gelato counter (and their waffles, and their crepes) and shared her excitement. We decided to go with our church home group (and avoid meeting that week, because while there’s a time for scripture, there’s also a time for ice-cream (I think that comes somewhere after ‘a time to lay down and a time to get up’), who all jumped at the chance.
My Explorer friend picked us up and we met at 7 and went in, promptly to be jumped on by my ice-cream friend (she and I have a long history of pranking one another). We perused the amazing flavours (Blue Banana, Pomegranite, Lemon Meringue, Oreo, Coconut and many more) and thought about what we might have whilst waiting the arrival of three more of our friends.
They arrived, we ordered, we sat and nattered and ate our (actually really nice) ice-creams (I’m not usually a fan, but they tempted me with Ferrero Rocher gelato and a rainbow-sprinkle-dipped sugar cone). Husby took on the role of chief prankster, suddenly screaming to make my Explorer Friend jump. Worked twice, but the second time he over-did it a little and everyone in the cafe jumped, which was utterly hysterical.
I forgive him though – look at that grin. This is the face of a very happy birthday boy.
|Spoon in one hand; insulin in the other – that’s how Type 1’s roll…|
*A long time ago, so the legend goes, Husby’s brother spiked his bowl of vanilla ice-cream by mixing it with mashed potato. The experience was so traumatic to young Husby that he still physically cringes at the idea of mashed potato. Oddly, though, his appetite for vanilla ice-cream goes undiminished. Go figure.
Things ‘I-scream’ Thank You for today
1. My car. Without it, I wouldn’t be able to get to college (or away from it) with such ease. Nor would we manage the weekly shop so easily.
2. My Wise Woman, Lynn. She’s got me working on some anger strategies, which should help matters. Apparently there are better ways of dealing with it than wanting to break things or hurt people – there’s an idea…
3. Friends. Without my friends I’d be a mess. They’re fun, they’re smart, they’re lovely. They don’t mind having a laugh with me (or at my expense, as the occasion strikes) and I adore them.
4. Niece, who today surprised everyone by crossing her eyes (for the first time noticed) with great comedic intent.
5. Ice-cream (I suppose I have to, today)
6. The honesty of strangers, which begins to make friends of us.
7. My bro-in-law, who provides great one-liners and makes me laugh even without being there. He wrote a birthday card to Husby, which after signing his name, had two tiny drawn hands punching together and, in brackets ‘Bro fist, because kisses are gay’
8. The postal service, which delivered Husby’s birthday present from me in time for the actual day (even though he’s already opened it so he has ‘longer to enjoy it’)
9. The Good Life, which is an awesome series and which has lovely short episodes so you can watch one over dinner without feeling you’re going to lose your whole evening.
10. Husby, who I love and will now go and play his new birthday board game with, because he’s so excited about having it.