Merced

I have been having a Merced itch for quite sometime now. I miss my hometown. I miss my people. I miss Merced 1st Ward. I miss my house. I miss fog. I miss all of it. I have been thinking back to the good ol' days of Merced, and I can't help but remember the one time mom bought Neapolitan ice cream and kept it in the big freezer in the garage.

We were not allowed to eat anything with sugar unless we asked for permission first. Like this one time I had Cheerios and I poured the bowl myself and put heaps and heaps of sugar on it, only to discover that it was salt not sugar I had put on my cereal. My dad then walked in and gave me a lecture about not wasting and I had to eat it.

I cried and cried with each spoonful because of the grossness and ended up throwing it down the sink without my padre's knowledge. Case and point, we had to ask permission to have sugar so when this new marvel ice cream entered the house, it was off limits.

Being the silly children we were, Collin and I would sneak into the garage and eat this heavenly sin, which in reality, is gross. I hate Neapolitan ice cream now. But back then we loved it and when Carlie came in and asked what we were eating, we said it was chicken poop. This was actually believable because we did have chickens and Neapolitan ice cream does in fact look like chicken poop when presented a certain way. Our sneaky cover worked two ways, mom wouldn't find out we were eating the ice cream and we wouldn't have to share with our cute little sister. And that ladies and gents, reminds me of Merced.