When I was a little girl my Grandad owned a drugstore. It had a distinct drugstore smell, a full soda fountain, a phone booth, a pharmacy, magazines, watches and candy. We all loved going the drugstore. My sister and brother were a little older than I was and they were lucky enough to "work" there. I mean they actually got paid for making monstrous sundaes and eating them!
I volunteered as often as possible to drive with my dad to pick them up from "work". I felt like the luckiest, richest kid in the world when I went to the drugstore because I knew I could eat as much ice cream and put as many toppings as I wanted on top. I usually started with a gigantic scoop of chocolate and a ginormous scoop of vanilla, then I would add gobs of hot fudge and gobs of marshmallow topping. It wouldn't be complete until it had plenty of whipped cream on top. Of course some nuts too. Priding myself on being a discriminating glutton, I didn't care for the cherry on top. Then I would sit on one of the swivel stools and eat ice cream until I literally gagged and was nauseous. I usually got a headache and couldn't finish, and felt like I would never want ice cream again. Then I coughed. I thought of it as a too-much-ice cream-cough.
But soon enough I couldn't wait until I could go again.
that sounds good. i want to go to there.
ReplyDelete