Don’t ya just hate when life gets in the way of blogging? I sure do.
Lately I’ve been swamped with other commitments. I get home each night and hubby has undoubtedly done something absurd and I jot myself a note to blog about it. I must have 20+ notes lying around my house as thought starters for blog posts.
They say things like: tv box, basement pile, love taps, movies quotes & ‘it must happen now’ (just to name a few….) And, now that I’ve got your curiosity piqued about some future topics, the note I’m going to blog about today says…. “Italian ices”.
So, let’s start with a test of how well you know my hubby.
Any idea what this is?
Here I’ll help you with a few clues:
A delightful summer treat?
A cup of lemony goodness?
A non-fat 100 calorie snack?
Ok.. maybe I’m not playing fair… since I’m admittedly steering you in the wrong direction.
YES… Marino’s lemon ices are all of those things noted above… at least they are to…… ME!
However, according to hubby, this particular food item falls into the category of “excruciatingly painful”. (As if there truly existed such a food category – Hubby can be sooooo dramatic!)
Marino’s Italian Ices are actually a tasty snack that I’m not allowed to eat in the company of my dear hubby.
You may recall that hubby has quite a few food quirks (you can read about them here, here, here & here). But, what you may not realize about many of his food quirks is that they almost always have an impact on me. This one, in particular, actually dictates when & where I’m allowed to eat Italian ices.
Please let me explain.
Hubby cannot stand the sound that my spoon makes as it scrapes across the surface of the Italian ice (which, by the way, is the only friggin’ way to eat an Italian ice!). ”It’s like fingernails on a chalkboard”, so he says. So, if I ever take a cup out of the freezer to snack on while hubby is around, I can guarantee one of two things will happen: Hubby will either get all pouty and dramatically cover his ears or (more likely) he’ll completely remove himself from wherever I am.
I’ve learned over the years to either warn him that I’m about to have one…
“Hon, I’m grabbing an Italian ice… you may want to move downstairs”
Or, to give him notice that I’m thinking about having one…
“Babe, when this movie is over, I think I’m gonna have an Italian ice”
Or, to suffer through an inferior Italian ice just to show hubby that I really do care…
“Honey, I’m gonna have one of the crappy ices just so you won’t have to suffer while you sit next to me” (see I really am nice sometimes!!)
What may you ask is an “inferior” Italian ice… well, in my opinion (which is the only opinion that matters since this is my blog ), a “crappy” ice is a Luigi’s Italian Ice. You may disagree, but hey… this is my post and in no way a marketing plug for Marino’s (unless of course they are reading this and want to send me free Italian ices!!)
These ices are softer and don’t make that awful scraping noise while I eat them (sorry hon, they’re just not as tasty!).
So inevitably, during the summer months, there are many, many days where I’m having an ice outside by the pool as hubby swims away from me. Or, I’m having a snack at night and hubby chooses to banish himself to the basement.
I have learned that it’s a fantastic tool to use if I want some alone time. I don’t actually need to say a word. I can just open the freezer and grab a spoon and before I’m back to the couch, hubby’s gathering himself to move to the Man Cave. It’s sort of like Pavlov’s dog without the bell. (No honey I’m not comparing you to a dog…)
Now if only I could figure out the best way to convert this to some sort of aversion therapy.
You didn’t do your chores today….bad boy…. scraaaaaaape….scraaaaaape.
Why are there crumbs on the counter?…… scraaaaaape… scraaaaaape…..
Hmmmmmm… I think I may be onto something here………….
UPDATE on February 2011 : You may not believe this but someone from Marino’s actually read this post. You can read what happened next HERE!
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