Semantics

Today is Ash Wednesday. I decided to give up ice cream for Lent, which is harder for me than some people (say, the lactose intolerant), because I LOVE ice cream. Plus I woke up this morning to find the Blue Bell Creamery e-newsletter in my inbox, listing all of the fantastic flavors in rotation for March. Which leads me to parse my words a bit: I just meant I wouldn't eat ice cream during Lent. There's nothing in that that says I can't buy a gallon of Mocha Madness and stash it in my parents' deep freeze until mid-April. And, well, I'll have to camouflage it in some way so my dad won't eat it all. Because he's even worse about ice cream, and he hasn't said anything about giving it up for Lent. He also has no respect for "dibs" and the like. So the only way it will survive is if he doesn't know it's there. Once upon a time, he left coffee flavored ice creams alone because he didn't know he liked them. Then at some point - I think when I was in college - he got desperate enough to try coffee ice cream and figure out that he liked it, too. So now nothing is sacred in the way of ice cream. He even eats my mom's sugar free ice cream if it's the first stuff he finds.