Bittersweet times here at The Mansion. It was the day before Thanksgiving last year that my mom had a seizure, which led to a cascade of other symptoms, which resulted in her demise two-and-a-half months later. We're thinking of you, Mom. Like that time you served me four-year-old ranch dressing at the Thanksgiving Dinner table!
It's no secret that Mom was thought to buy her bargains at Ye Olde Expired Foods Shoppe. Now The Pony seems to have picked up some of her traits. Not that he shops for food. It's kind of hard to do that when you don't have a driver's license. But he DOES have a way of picking up the dented can, the torn label, the crushed box. Not that he saves any money.
Saturday night, I decided to allow myself a little treat. We have, inside Frig II's freezer, a bag of individual ice cream cups. Farmer H asked for them. Yes, he has the diabeetus. But he has lost weight since the summer, and his A1C or whateveryacallit has been pleasing his doctor. So as long as it's a small portion, and eaten with a protein, he thinks he can have sugar every now and then. I disagree, but short of taking his keys, I can't prevent him from sneaking worse treats like a waffle cone or a half-dozen Casey's donuts if the mood strikes him. So I picked up these birthday-cake flavored ice cream cups at The Devil's Playground. We had some way back when it was actually ice cream season, but eventually they ran out.
So I asked The Pony on Saturday night to fetch me an ice cream cup and a Little Debbie Cosmic Brownie. What good is ice cream without cake, right? And The Pony dutifully fetched them for me, even bringing a spoon. Unfortunately, he dropped the brownie right as he was handing it over. But that's all right! They come individually wrapped, you know.
So I went to open my brownie, and the end was open already. "Pony?" Is this one you were going to eat one morning, and changed your mind?"
"No. It's a new one."
"Okay. Maybe it popped open when it hit the floor." I took a bite. "Um. No. It tastes funny. And it's kind of hard. But sometimes Little Debbies are. Here. Try it."
"That doesn't taste right."
"I know. It's like cardboard and old people." Not that Mrs. Hillbilly Mom eats cardboard. OR old people.
"I can get you another one."
"Where did you get THIS one?"
"Well...it was from that open box that's been there awhile. Here. Have one of these!" He reached under his end of the coffee table and produced a brand new box of Little Debbie Cosmic Brownies. "They were left over from our potluck we had in class Friday. Here. I'll open them. We didn't even need this box."
I picked up my ice cream cup. I like to let it get a little melty. But this one had not. I breathed my hot breath across it. Still. It did not melt like a normal ice cream cup. "Pony. Where did you get this ice cream cup?"
"In the freezer."
"I know that. But was it in the bag? The one I just bought a couple weeks ago?"
"No. It was sitting by itself."
"That one was OLD! Months old! That's when we ran out. And it was at least two months before I got any more. There is only a thin piece of cardboard protecting the ice cream from freezer burn. This one is all crystallized!"
"Oh. I'll go get you another one."
"No. I already have this one. Never mind."
I guess the good thing about The Pony's selections is that I don't really crave ice cream and a brownie any more.