That Annual Obligation

Tomorrow is Fat Tuesday. I haven't always given up anything for Lent. In fact, I only started a few years ago.

That first year, I gave up booze. It was a piece of cake.

So the next year, I gave up ice cream. Giving up cigarettes was easier.

Let me tell you about my family's ice cream history. On my mother's side, I think my grandparents ate a bowl of ice cream every night. They had a second freezer with eight or nine different varieties (and three or four deer worth of venison). My grandfather had several spoons stashed in that freezer. At least one was hidden in plain sight so my grandmother could stop looking for the others. She'd always "miss" one.

My parents made their own ice cream at one point (maybe they'll read this post from their balmy Nicaraguan vacation and take the hint when they get home). They cook light, eat light, stay fit, all that willpower crap. But they still have a freezer full of ice cream.

I'd be forty pounds lighter without my friends Ben and Jerry. So I'm kicking them to the curb for Lent. Which means that tonight, Ben and Jerry are visiting. Maybe tomorrow night, too.

Adam