The Ice Cream Man

It’s that time of year again when the off pitch, broken-record sound of the ice cream man can be heard winding his way through your neighborhood. This sound is often associated with the childhood bliss of summer. It does not often strike terror into the hearts of young’uns wilting in the summer heat, rather the mechanical notes of “When the Saints Go Marching In” elicits an excitement that sends them running inside to beg for money for some of the ice cream man’s treats.

Maybe I didn’t have a normal childhood, but the sound of the ice cream man still sends shivers of disgust up and down my spine. I feel the need to hide, mutter curses, and spit when his truck saunters down my street. I think of the ice cream man as a seedy weirdo who can’t (or doesn’t want to) get a real job. He uses his job selling ice cream to scope out neighborhoods and the innocent children who live in them.

My mother is solely responsible for my attitude toward the ice cream man. She would warn us against him, and rarely did we have the opportunity to buy ice cream from him, and certainly never by ourselves. My mother’s words and attitude were justified on the fateful day that my brothers were chased by the ice cream man in his truck after they had attempted to buy ice cream with acorns instead of money. When the ice cream man showed up in our driveway breathing hard and pointing an accusing, fat finger at my shaking and cowering little brothers, we all knew mom had been right.

I sense the same apprehension when the girls I nanny for beg me to let them get ice cream from the slow moving ice cream van. It should have come as no surprise to me then that the lawyers I work for, while going through their pictures of injured clients, recognized the ice cream man in one of the photos.

All doubt was erased when I found This Picture. (This man is not, and never has been, a client of my employers)

No, the ice cream man is not to be trusted. Protect yourselves from him this summer. They sell much better ice cream in shops anyway!

My Best Friend's Wedding

My best Friend Anna tied the knot with her new best friend Chris last Sunday afternoon. I hold no grudge against her for this action. On the contrary I am very happy for her and would even go so far as to say I support her decision. She originally had no bridesmaids, but it became aparent that she would need an attendant for all those little details like her train and flowers, and keeping the paparazzi at bay. Since I have been her best friend for the last 6 years, and I was doing all those little details anyway, she allowed me to stand up front next to her during the ceremony. I was given strict orders not to steal the spotlight and God knows I did my best to honor her wishes. (Can I help it if the cameras naturally gravitate toward me?!) Anyway she didn't say anything about after the wedding, so for those who may have missed the stunning dress I was wearing I will post some pictures.






















































I wish my friend Anna all the wedded bliss that can possibly exist for two souls on earth. I'm sure she will be posting some of the wedding pics on her site.

Random Question of the Day

If you could have one super power, what would it be and why?

Random Thoughts

I think I over-analyze myself. I often take a normal conversation, email, or action that I do and I scrutinize it in retrospection until I am overcome with anxiety at my fault. I may be a perfectionist, or I simply may have picked up this habit from my mother. Some self-analysis and retrospection is good, but too much can have a detrimental effect upon a person. It really takes the joy out of some things. Maybe it is worry. Worry over things that I really have no control over. Letting it go is easier said than done. It could be that I have no patience with myself. I give myself no room to make mistakes and therefore I do not expect anyone else to either. It could be Obsessive Compulsive Disorder except my over-analyzing thoughts don't drive me to do any obssesive compulsive behavior in order to release anxiety (like compulsive counting- I guess I can thank my phobia for that). Maybe it's just insanity, and I'm the only one that doesn't notice. Have you ever wondered if others perceive you as crazy or even slighltly retarded and you're the only one who doesn't know. After all, If you are crazy or retarded you would think you were normal! Perhaps it is just frail human nature that is the culprit for an overanalyzing, perfectionist, impatient, OCD, worry-wart.
God help me.

Scripting Genius

I love reading good books. Now that I have the freed mental space to devote to good reading, I have been taking advantage of it. I have also put some thought into what constitutes a good book. I have had to give up a couple of my childhood prejudices on what a good book is. These are:
*A good book is fictional. While I still read (for pleasure) almost exclusively fictional books, some of my favorites have been non-fiction.
*A good book must be softcover. As a young'in I would never choose a book unless it had a soft cover. I have since realized that my reason for this is that hardcovers are uncomfortable to hold while reading. They are heavy and cumbersome. If I am interested in the story today, however, I will choose a hardcover.

I'm sure I have read hundreds and thousands of books in my lifetime, and it has caused me to value certain traits in books, of which I will share. I like to think also that my opinion is an educated one thanks to the numerous literature and writing classes of which my college career has subjected me to. Here are my criteria for good books:
*Profound descriptions: A good bok must display deep and unique descriptions of things that stir the soul. Bland, surface descriptions are uninteresting and boring.
*Depth: A good book must have deep characters with emotions that may sometimes be conflicted (because human emotions are conflicted). A good character has layers. There are surface features, but there are also deeper issues which are brought out in the character through plot.
*Twisted: A good book has twists in the plot and characters which adds suspense and mystery. If the reader is kept spell-bound, then it is a top rated book! Also twistedness can refer to strange and even horrific which is told in a way that the reader can accept as (at the very least) an alter reality.
*Underlying Purpose: A good book has a purpose (often weaved subtly through the story)through which the author uses the story to convey.

I have discovered (through my sister-in-law) a christian author who meets all of my criteria: Ted Dekker. He has profound descriptions, deep characters, and (very) twisted plots. He also uses his stories to explore profound philosophical questions. His stories are the vehicle to which he conveys his thoughts on those profound eternal questions. He may explore the existence of God (as in his novel Blink), or he may explore good vs. evil in the nature of man (as in Thr3e), or even God's love and salvation (in The Circle Trilogy: Black, Red, White). I have been astounded, and spellbound on more than one occasion while reading his novels. I guess you could call me a fan. It's just a good thing I have a job that I can read on!

Easy-going Bees

Today had the hint of summer in it, so I went to the state park to enjoy the beach. I was there a couple days ago too, but I consider this my first official day at the beach because I actually wore my bathing suit and put on suntan lotion! The water is still freezing, but it is perfect for sitting on the beach and looking at it. I took the short trail that goes straight down to the beach (as opposed to winding all over the place before depositing you onto the shoreline) because I prefer the more secluded spots. Too many people ruins the effect, unless you are yourself going with a group. I like to take the trail down also because it gets me in the right frame of mind for beach enjoying. My cares and distractions slowly peel away with every step closer to the gentle, pounding surf.

I brought along Ted Dekker's thriller Thr3e to read. It's insanely good, I can hardly put it down. (I had to force myself to finally turn out the lights in the wee hours of this morning). I was engrossed in the growing web of evil with the warm sun on my back and the pound of the waves in my ear, when I was accosted by a huge bumblebee. This freaked me out a bit, but I managed to go back to my reading with a partial eye out for bumblebees. My next visitor, however, was much stranger. He looked like a black wasp and had the uncanny ability to fold his tail end up so he looked something like a scorpion. I was thoroughly disgusted and yet intrigued by his strange nature. He left, but returned sometime later and pestered me until put Dekker's novel to good use. It took only...three hits or so to make sure he was good and dead!

Upon arriving home, I engaged in conversation with my brother Dave (which is always a mental adventure). I told him about the strange creature that seemed to be a bee, but not be a bee. He knew exactly what I was talking about from his landscaping days. In his experience of them, they are not as easily agravated as wasps, although they do have stingers (which I had noticed). They are, in his words, like easy-going bees.

If you see any easy-going bees this summer, know you can shoo them and kill them a little easier, but they have the capacity to sting!

Sylvia The Disobedient

For my final project in my children's literature class this last semester, I had to wrte my own children's story. Mary always asks me to tell her "bad stories". She means she wants a story about a kid who does something bad and gets in trouble. This was my inspiration for Sylvia The Disobedient. Anna made some original drawings for the book, to which the children in Mary's 1st grade class (to whom I read the book) exclaimed in wide-eyed wonder: "Your friend is a good drawer!"



Sylvia is a little girl who is very bored one afternoon and decides to go down to the lake alone even though she has been told not to.











She finds an old boat down at the lake, gets in, and floats away without realizing she has no oars. She is afraid, but is found by a friendly duck named George who keeps her company.




Sylvia has a few problems including no oars, getting caught on a log, and becoming cold, tired, and hungry.







She is eventually found by a police boat and taken home to be with her parents. The next day she is grounded and must apologize to the man whose boat she took.















The children I read this story to loved it and the pictures. One little boy raised his hand as high as he could at the beginning and asked what disobedient meant. When I told him, his eyes lit up and he exclaimed, "Oh yeah, I'm disobedient every day!" I just love kids!