This is not a political post. Or a contemplation of the world’s economy. Or even a philosophical discussion of Malthusian theories. Nope. It is about what I have. And what I don’t have. Here at the beach.
Let’s back track just a moment. One of my favorite things about coming to my very own slice of heaven is this:
I cannot get it in Atlanta. And the Piggly Wiggly even had this to go with it. Yes, the Piggly Wiggly had Keebler waffle cones. And organic hot dogs. And my only bread option was white. And my milk choices were whole or 2%. No skim. No wheat. But organic hot dogs must be all the rage. Because when I think of hot dogs, I think organic. What makes a hot dog organic? Oh. Wait. What were we talking about?
You guys get side tracked so easily. And have your minds in the gutter. Mention a hot dog. Sheesh. We were contemplating a real issue. Ice cream.
How do I get the Tin Roof into the waffle cone? Typically, one would suggest an ice cream scooper. So…let’s look in the utensil drawer.
There is not one in there.
I have a potato masher. Cause one often mashes potatoes. By hand. At the beach. But I don’t have an ice cream scoop.
I have a pastry blender. I really needed one of these when I made strawberry shortcakes. But, trust me, I am not gonna make these while here in heaven.But I don’t have an ice cream scoop.
I have a very nice Pampered Chef garlic press. But I don’t have an ice cream scoop.
I could make a bundt cake. Or serve fondue. Or even scoop out pretty balls of melon. Drink numerous shots of Jagermeister followed up by sobering amounts of coffee. But scoop ice cream? Not a chance.
And what is this? It looks like a shovel. Or some type of serving spoon. But you know what it is for me?
An ice cream scoop. Heaven.