ode to popsicles.

Popsicles make me think back refrigerators, and our house and entire backyard strewn with clear, vertical push pop wrappers, and perpetually electric blue tongues.
And the exotic couple that moved to our neighborhood from Norway, taking walks around the block while holding hands every single summer night, waving around identical orange popsicles in their free ones.

Right now, my Popsicle Du Jour would be the Melona Bar. Oh em gee it's so refreshing and creamy.
Meg's boyfriend Andrew introduced them to her and she introduced them to me and I am now addicted enough to make special trips to the exploratory jungle that is Super Cao Nguyen in order to have them.




A passage from Orangette, my favorite food blogger and former Oklahoman:

Where I grew up, in Oklahoma, summer shut us inside. Unless you were submerged up to the neck in a swimming pool, it was too hot and humid to be outside. But this city, my adopted city, opens wide up in the summer. Every window is propped up or swung out, everywhere, and everyone is in the street. I am writing this with the front door open, and from the neighbors’ house, which also has its front door open, the Supremes are singing “Come See About Me.” Two nights ago, on a walk around the neighborhood with the dog, I passed an old man playing the guitar on a front porch, a kid in gym shorts playing the guitar on another front porch, a young man playing the cello on a third front porch, and a house whose curtains were clearly so ecstatic about the weather that they sneaked out through an upstairs window to billow and twist in the breeze. It’s time for a popsicle.

It is so true about Oklahoma in the heart of summertime as compared to my summer in an alive and outdoor D.C., you really shut yourself inside to survive.
Maybe the remedy is more popsicles.




p.s. Totally unrelated, except it may be another way to stay cool and keep the hair off your neck - I'm obsessed with fishtail braiding now thanks to FreePeople's instructional video.