And The Cherry On Top

Saying goodbye to summer means saying goodbye to businesses that are seasonal. 

Sandcastle has been done. Kennywood is now done with regular weekdays/weekends of operation. It is nice though that we get to enjoy the park now in the off season, with their effort to take advantage of Halloween and Christmas. 

Last year, my family spent an evening at the park during one of the Holiday Lights events, to see the tree lighting, but, for me, it was too cold to pop on any of the rides. 

There are quite a few ice cream places that are serving up their last cool treats during the next couple of weeks - including our local hang out. 

Growing up, as far as I remember, my family did not have a regular place we went to. We would hit Dairy Queen, Baskin Robbins or the area mom and pop cone establishment. I remember when we first discovered Handel's in West Mifflin. It was a big deal to drive from McKeesport to Century III Mall to get a scoop of fudge ripple or coffee ice cream.

I remember hitting the Baskin Robbins in Midtown Plaza, with my grandmother, and being mesmerized by the thought of 31 flavors. I wanted to be able to say I had tried all of them but too many had something fruity associated with its name (which I do not like) so unfortunately, that was an accomplishment for someone else.

I have had ice cream experiences that have been life changing. I remember my first Ben and Jerry's (Coffee Buzz Buzz Buzz) , my first Penn State Creamery ice cream (WPSU Coffee Break), (are you noticing a trend?) and even my first Schwan's Vanilla Bean.

My first Rita's gelati experience was in New Jersey with my godparents and their children. My godfather loves desserts and whenever we would drive out for a mini vacation- there was always dessert. I had the best cookies and cream ice cream I ever tasted when he took us to Goodnoe's near the PA/New Jersey border. I had at least three scoops on this cone and I ate every last bite. 

Due to my love of ice cream you would think working as a cone artist would be the perfect job for teenage me. Nope. I hated every minute of working at Vangie's, which use to be near Renzie Park in McKeesport.

I hated when those little leaguers would show up after a game and the line would never end. I hated how sticky I got after making a milkshake and I hated reaching in the jar and putting the cherry on top of a sundae then watching it roll down the mound of whipped cream that had already started to melt due to the time it took me to create my masterpiece. 

Almost 10 years ago, an ice cream place opened near my house and summers have never been the same. We started going to Arctic Avenue in an effort to support a local small business and we've never looked back.

For us, Arctic Avenue is like the TV show Cheers. The proprietor, Mr. Wayne, knows our names and knows what we like. He has celebrated many a special occasion with us including last days of school, first days of school and more than one of our many summer birthdays. 

When my daughter was about seven-years-old, she made him a card when he was getting married. The card featured two ice cream cones tying the knot. (Can you believe he still has that card hanging up in his store?)

This week marks the end of Arctic Avenue's 2019 summer season. It will be sad when we drive by and the open light isn't glowing and the ice cream cone sign has been packed away. But we always look forward to the spring and hints that our buddy is getting things ready, behind the scenes, to open once again. 

But for now, there is one last ice cream run to make. I think I am going to get a hot fudge sundae. I know from experience what it takes to make one to perfection. One thing I did right during my ice cream career, I never skimped on the hot fudge. Luckily, neither does Mr. Wayne.

My Girl

Fifteen years ago yesterday, I received the biggest surprise recorded in my lifetime. I was handed a baby, by the midwife on call, who proudly announced, "It's a girl!"

I was shocked to say the least. I was convinced I was having another boy as this second pregnancy had pretty much been identical to my first. My weight gain, cravings, even my first contractions were a week early from the baby's due date, just like the first time. Yep, I was convinced it was another boy.

Despite that fact, we were a bit unprepared when, on a Saturday morning, I calmly told my husband today is the day. Heck, we hadn't even settled on a boy's name. (Which caused me to do a quick recall of boy names used in Beatles songs. Yes, I tried to push for Jude.) 

During the night prior, the baby was extremely active which made it hard to get any housework done. I had been looking forward to catching up on the week's mess as I was working part-time, had a two-year-old boy and a three-year-old beagle.  

We had been told that as the baby got bigger it would likely run out of room and move around less. Not this kid. It was almost as if she was trying to get out any way she could. The kicks and punches were frequent and there was no indication this little one was slowing down. I was comfortable in the knowledge her due date was still a week away. 

Oh the difference a day makes. We were at the hospital by 1 p.m. I had chosen to have my delivery at the Midwifery Center at DePaul. We were living in Virginia and this was an option that was available to us. The center was attached to a hospital so I had peace of mind in case emergency medical assistance was needed. The delivery room was a huge bedroom with a real King-sized bed, rocking chair, and a hot tub. 

Yes, the hot tub was the huge draw for me, which is ironic, but we will get to that in a minute. After having my first child, I wanted something different from the cold, antiseptic feel of my first delivery. I wanted to be comfortable and away from what a hospital has to offer. The midwifery was like home and it seemed perfect. 

Not long after our arrival, we were set up in our room. I was offered the opportunity to get in the hot tub and I was going for it. I was assisted into the water and slowly sunk beneath the warm bath. I found myself situated near a powerful jet which felt great along my aching back. A nurse brought me a cup of ice chips and I sat there amazed by how smoothly this labor was playing out. I mean it was more like a vacation at a Sandals resort. All that was missing was some reggae music and a cabana. 

Someone offered my husband the chance to join me in the hot tub to which I quickly shot an emphatic "NO". This was my vacation and I wasn't sharing. "You have to sit outside," I said. 

But just as quickly as my vacation began it abruptly ended. 

"Get me out!" I said. I knew that the baby was coming and I didn't want a water delivery. This little baby was the quickest of my three to make an appearance - in just a little over three hours from the time we arrived at the center. Baby number 2 was also my biggest weighing in at 8 lbs. 10 oz.

I remember the sheer joy I felt when she was handed to me. 'My little girl', I thought. I guess I didn't let myself admit how much I wanted to have a girl. But from the moment I looked at her I knew she was something special and after her first miserable, colicky months, I knew she was also a force to be reckoned with.

Now here we are 15-years-later. I hardly see that little one anymore when I look at her. I see a young lady who is like me and not like me all at the same time. She has my determination but times 10. She has my lack of patience but times 10. She has an abundance of confidence, like I've never had, and if somewhere in the cosmic universe she could have spoken with 15-year-old me maybe I wouldn't have been such a late bloomer. 

This child will always be "My Girl" no matter how old she gets. Even on days when she is more overcast than sunny I am thankful for this gift that, in the not so distant future, will find her wings and make an indelible mark on the world.

Is Accident Forgiveness Really A Thing?

Sometimes in life you are moving along minding your own business when CRASH suddenly things become very still.

That happened to me last week when I was involved in a car accident. And here is the kicker, the accident was my fault. I was driving alone and about to merge onto Route 30 in North Versailles. The car in front of me had started moving and I looked back to see if it was clear for me to go. I started to accelerate and then....BOOM! The moment of impact.

It was startling to say the least. I didn't know what had happened at first but I did know one thing - I was responsible. I got out of the car, totally oblivious to my surroundings, and any vehicles behind me, and attempted to ask the other driver if she was ok. She seemed just as shocked as I was. As I remember, she was stopped and then started to inch forward. I had just begun to tap lightly on my break when my bumper made contact with her bumper.

Luckily, she was fine. Both cars seemed fine and I was able to give her my contact information before driving away.

As I drove off I asked myself, "How did this happen?"

 I kept replaying the moment of impact in my head wondering how I was so oblivious to actually crash into another vehicle. I remember the moments prior listening to a news story about why hurricanes are stronger now than decades ago. Yeah, I am into weather but I am not sure that distracted me enough to cause an accident.

"I need to slow down," I thought. Literally.

I was embarrassed and upset but honestly I felt like nothing would come of this minor accident. Heck, I didn't even bother to tell my husband that is how minor it was. I mean there was no visible damage to either car.

But less than 24 hours later, guess what happened? I got a text on my phone from an insurance company - with a claim number. At first I thought it was a spam text and then the light bulb went off. "Oh," I shook my head in disbelief. Now I kind of regretted not telling my better half. But now I also knew I would have to.

I wasn't worried about how he would react. He is a pretty easy going guy and in the event there is some damage, it's not going to be significant. I just didn't want to admit I made a mistake. It is hard to admit when we are at fault even if it is to someone who knows better than anyone how imperfect we are.

My husband handled the news well and I assured him, using the words my insurance guy told me, this is pretty routine stuff. People file a claim and get the ball rolling so if there is damage the repairs can be done right away.

But now I not only regret the accident, I regret how I handled it. I should have taken photos of the non damage. I should have called the police or at least filed a report. Even though I have shared my side of the story with the claims adjuster it is going to be my word against the other driver's and it appears I could be on the hook for any anomaly that is detected on her bumper.

So now I wait.

But I also overthink.

It has been a bumpy ride for my family lately. Just the day prior to my accident, my son and his friend were involved in a crash. My son and his friend were crawling along in traffic on the Parkway East (he was the passenger) when the motorist in front of them stopped suddenly. My son's friend had no choice but to hit the person. Luckily, no one was hurt and there was only minor damage but the text I received was a little unnerving, "Hey, can you come and get me?"

My son was with me when I received a call from the insurance agent, the first time, so I had to come clean. He acted like it was a badge of unity. He high-fived me and said 'accident buddies'. I chuckled a little then I tried to explain this was the first time I was involved in an accident that was my fault.

 I have been pretty fortunate over the years and I attribute my driving skills to the great instruction I received from my parents. (I had to say it.) But also due to my years working as a photographer/reporter at a television station. Being the driver while heading to news/breaking events, I learned what to do and what not to do.

The car trips after my recent accident have been calculated journeys. I make thoughtful turns. I back out of my driveway slower than I did before. I try to stay in the moment with each tap of the gas and each press of the break and not let my mind carry me to all the places I can go. My accident may have been a result of me being in a rush so now it is time to slow down. The alternative is just not worth it.