The Joy of Friday

Fridays. Oh, I love Fridays. Things are relaxed at work (usually) on Fridays. Fridays we close the office at noon.

Fridays, after work, I stop by the grocery store and get a big rotisserie chicken, then come home and make a chicken and rice casserole. I use medium grain rice, which is fluffy and delicious, and cream of chicken soup. I bake it in the oven and it's just so delicious, I could eat it forever.

I also bring delicious doughnuts to work on Fridays. It helps to lighten the mood even more, and I love a good Friday doughnut.

Fridays, I wrap up anything I didn't get to do during the week, and that makes Fridays even more satisfying.

Sometimes I even take a nap on Fridays when I get home, and that's very nice, too.

And now I love Fridays even more, because I can look forward to James on the weekends. This weekend, he's coming here (tomorrow after he gets off work), and we'll work on the house a little.

What I find creepy is ice cream truck drivers. When I was a kid, I used to love the sound of the ice cream truck, with it's wavering siren call of "Pop! Goes the Weasel." Whenever the kids on the street heard it, no matter what they were  doing, they'd drop everything and scramble inside the house for any loose change that was lying around. And if their parents were easily accessible, they'd cry out , "The ice cream man! Momma, hurry! I need fifty cents!" And then bounce up and down like they had to pee with their hands out.

I usually got one of those rainbow snow cone things, even though, unlike Fridays, they weren't very satisfying. I'd suck the red and blue juice out as best I could without touching the yellow or green, then toss the chunk of rock hard ice in the sink.

When I was a kid I thought the ice cream man was a nice kind of Mr. Rogers-type guy. My memory of him is sorta like this:

But as times changed, the ice cream man grew creepier and creepier. When my kids heard the ice cream truck when we lived in a gated community in Albuquerque, they'd do the scramble-for-money thing, but I would wonder how the guy knew the gate code, and follow the kids out to keep an eye on them while they made their purchases.

But now, creepy ice cream men seem to abound, and they, thanks to guys like this, can't be trusted to be the innocent bringing of joy they once were.

And now, even Satan, in creepy clown disguise, has invested in the ice cream truck business.

It's sad how this nostalgic memory has been perverted into an accessory to crime and nightmares.

But what's sadder, and creepier, is that it appears many of these ice cream truck drivers, complete in creepy clown disguises, have added "treasure hunter" to their resumes.

I don't buy my ice cream from creepy clowns. Maybe Gucci should start selling ice cream. But why buy Gucci when Wal Mart sells Haagen Das?

That's a little scoop of heaven right there..or I guess maybe three scoops.

Oh, I will say something good about one ice cream man today. You remember Ron Weasley from Harry Potter? He bought his own ice cream truck, and drives it around giving free ice cream and lollipops to kids. Before his rocket to stardom, he wanted to be an ice cream man. Now, he's the ultimate ice cream man. Go, Ron Weasley!

Well, that's my Friday blog about nothing in particular. Have a great day! :)