| Now, it's time for a confession. I've heard that it's good for the soul. I feel like I've done a horrible thing. I feel awful! I need to get this out. A week ago, I called the Schwan Company to discontinue service. I didn't call the Schwan man himself because I don't like confrontation. However, they must have forgotten to tell him. He just showed up at the door and I had to tell him. I wasn't really prepared. "Uh," I stammered. "I discontinued the service." He looked stunned. "Can I ask why?" "Mmm...I have special dietary restrictions from my doctor." He looked down at his shoes thoughtfully and then looked right into my eyes. "What kind of dietary restrictions do you have?" I broke out into little beads of sweat. "Ahh, no salt and...uh...no sugar?" "I see." He nodded, continuing to look at me with a piercing gaze. It was too much. I had to break eye contact. Somehow, we said our final goodbyes. I felt wretched. I wanted to call out after him, "It's not you...it's me." But I didn't. I came inside the house and closed the door, leaning against it. "That was stressful," I muttered. My husband Joe asked me, "What's going on?" "I'm not sure." I answered. "It feels like I just broke up with the Schwan man." These are the kind of moments I wish to avoid. I'm just not good at this kind of thing. My cousin Jodine recounts several experiences with her Schwan's man: We hide out in the house when we don't have money. No one wants to tell him we don't want to buy anything. One time, I had left my car door open outside and we were inside the house...it was obvious that we were home and just not answering the door He knocked and knocked and knocked. We felt guilty as he continued to knock, but it came to the point where we couldn't answer it because we had waited too long. Another time, we sped past our own house when we saw his truck and we pulled into a neighbor's driveway. He drove to the end of our driveway where he had a full view of our van. We both sat there for a long time like some kind of a wild west shootout, each waiting for the other to make a move. I remember another time...I waited at the peephole on the other side of the door, waiting for him to leave, thinking, 'go away, go away!' Finally, he turned to leave and at the same time, my small son, having made his way to the door, jiggled the knob. He stopped, turned and looked at the knob as it continued to jiggle, then returned to the door to continue knocking. Such guilt...but she still didn't answer the door. (Reminds me of another story: I have a relative who has tunnel vision. One day, when two men pulled up in front of the house, presumably to sell something, her mom and sister ran out of the living room in an effort to avoid them. She wanted to leave too, but was worried that they would see her from the window...so she dropped to the floor and began crawling into the kitchen. As she passed the front door, she noticed that it was open and that the men were standing on the other side of the screen door, observing her unique journey across the carpet. "Oh, hi," she said, slowly standing up. "I was just down here looking for my money.") My sister says she is convinced that her Schwan man thinks she never has a payday. "He always shows up when I'm flat broke but I don't want to discontinue the service because the food is really good." I wonder why logic leaves us when a truck of cold ice cream and food is involved. "But you're not actually ordering." I pointed out. "I know," she answered, "but someday I might and I don't want to lose my connection. Besides, I like looking at the catalog." This makes no sense to me...better to make a nice clean break. Don't waste the guy's time. You both need to get on with your lives. Why do I feel so bad? Because the Schwan guy is really very nice and he's got a lot of good stuff in his truck. It's hard to tell him "no." I do hope some of you will take my place as I really can't have salt and...uh...sugar. My Favorite Schwan thing: Make up Schwan Lemonade (pink or regular flavor) and then add their frozen strawberries, put in a blender You can visit their website here or call 1-888-724-9267 if you want service. If not, just catch the ice cream truck. |
| Last week, I flagged down this little ice cream truck, the summer project of sister and brother Jan and Michael Scribner. This is an ice cream truck worth catching, very clean inside, with the goodies being packed in dry ice and kept very cold. I have always wanted to talk to an ice cream man and was happy to meet these friendly people. When we were finished talking, they gave me an ice cream. This was a really big deal to me, having finally finally! received something for my website efforts. |
| Returning home with my Reese's Peanut Butter Ice Cream Bar, I studied it carefully... it's kind of like a business that frames the first dollar it earns. I write these articles every week and get nothing for it. Sure, there's the satisfaction when someone sends me a letter saying that they liked something I wrote. But something tangible is good, too. I like to get stuff. I didn't want to eat this ice cream, I wanted to save it. However, my three kids spotted it and ate it all. I'll have to frame the wrapper. Thank you, Michael and Jan! My kids said that it was an excellent ice cream bar. |
| The sound of summer... makes you remember what it was like to be ten. You'd hear the truck and start looking for a quarter. Weren't you the happy one. Life is different now... you're still looking for money, but you need a lot more than a quarter, you have a mortgage payment, kids...and you're hiding from the Schwan man. I don't know about you, but I'm thinking that the above thoughts should be sent to Hallmark. Maybe part of a new card line called "Real Life Sentiments" ...hmmm... |