The big dog (Willow the Great Dane) and I got out for our walk at sunrise on Thursday. Just around the bend from our house we passed a young, tall, lean, bearded gentleman from the first house on the street. He was dressed for much cooler weather in a knit cap, long sleeve hoodie, and sweatpants. Really? It was already 78 degrees. Temperatures were on their way to the 90s. Welcome to Florida, buddy.
We’ve passed him many times on our walks. But today he had a red, white, and blue rocket popsicle hanging out of his mouth. His hands were on his phone as the frozen treat stuck out from his lips.
My first thought: Breakfast of champions! My second thought: wait a minute, you guys don’t have any kids. You have red, white, and blue popsicles at your house?
I like ice pops as much as the next guy. But I wouldn’t buy them if we didn’t have grandchildren frequenting our home. You’ll find them in our freezer because the little ones visit and stay at our house.
Nutritional value? None. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Water, sugar, and some artifical coloring. A quick burst of energy? Of course. Beyond that. Nothing.
I know, he’s probably thinking, “Dude, aren’t you cold (in shorts and a t-shirt)? Where’s your ice pop? (Costco has them by the case.) Come on, buddy, support your country! USA! USA!
We always say, “Hi,” when he walks by, but he never responds. He doesn’t even look up. His earbuds filter out us and the rest of the world.
It’s all about the popsicle.
Waite for it... 