Daughter Luan planned last Christmas’ dinner at our house. Among the too-much food, she bought a box of ice cream cakes, shaped and colored like Santa Clauses.
“The three-year-old twins will love them,” she said. She put the box in our freezer and promptly forgot it.
I spotted the box in late February and called granddaughter Karen (the family’s major ice cream devourer) and asked if she would like the “Jolly Santas.”
“They’ve probably expired,” she said. I assumed at that time she meant we’d had them past the required “best if used before” wording now stamped on everything except toilet paper and air.
I rediscovered the ice cream cakes a week ago and again called Karen, and repeated my earlier question, knowing her retention of anything more than a few seconds is only for some of that god awful noise she listens to.
“Would you like these Jolly Santas,” I asked?
She said, “They’re probably too old!”
I told her, “I’m old and I’m good!”
She came back, “You’re past expired!”
That causes me to wonder what my expiration date was, and how long I’m good for after that date? Our leaders obviously overlooked requiring doctors to put expiration dates on newborns. Surely our lawmakers could make the doctors do that, and in some way get a tax on baby age-labeling.
If there were such a requirement, I can only imagine the Congressional bickering over where the label should be applied.
* * *
Foods are not the only things that come with “best if” suggestions. Rechargeable battery makers tell users it is best to exhaust all the energy in it before recharging.
Never, I repeat, never does a battery wait until the project you’re using them for is finished before it dies.
My shaver battery is programed, I believe, to quit on half-done routines. Same for our handy, dandy batteried hand vacuum.
I say, to heck with their suggestions. I say, recharge whenever. Don’t leave a face half smooth and half rough. Don’t leave the crumbs on the floor until a battery is recharged.
Re-volt!
No, that’s not the right word. That’s electricity, which is probably what I should have stayed with in the first place.
Though it would take a mighty long cord to power my flashlight.
* * *
Here’s the rhyming weather forecast from the 2003 Old Farmer’s Almanac:
Take it to the bank — it’s dank.
We’re finally, sun-shinily!
Still mopping up, but jonquils are popping up.
We’ll put our money on sunny,
But wise investors buy sou’westers
And:
What soap is to the body, laughter is the soul.
April snow stays no long than water on the trout’s back.
The doors of wisdom are seldom shut.
Life happened because I turned the pages. I’m going to get Karen to explain that one to me.