In Which I Turn 38

I didn’t quite have the energy to throw a big home-made ice cream polynesian-dance extravaganza like I did for my birthday last year.

So I just invited everyone I knew to come meet me at the Fremont Troll.

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My parents have a picture of me sticking my hand up the nose of the lions on Trafalgar Square, so I feel like things have come full-circle, here.

My kids had never seen this Seattle landmark before, and they were enchanted. They kicked off their shoes and climbed all over that thing, getting gloriously filthy in the process. Katie even lay down in the sand and made “dirt angels.” Yecch, but I really loved it. Kids should get dirty in the summer. They should get mud and scabs all over their legs. Kid legs! They are the best.

We also walked around the corner with our friends to get ice cream from the Bluebird Microcreamery, which I’ve heard has great ice cream. They even have a refurbished 1904 marble-topped soda fountain counter! Who can resist that?

Well . . .

There was only one guy manning the counter. So the line (yes, a line even at opening time) moved slowly. Eleanor and William began to wrestle, getting giddy and uncontrollable like they do when they are bored. (I should have been harsher and denied them ice cream. But that didn’t occur to me until we were driving home).

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I asked Eleanor to smile. She did this. Kids are jerks.

Then Katie goes to inspect the mirror-tiled mosaic on the boutique hotel next door . . . came away with a bleeding hand! Turns out the mirror-tile isn’t tile but just smashed up shards of mirror someone had glued to the wall!

THEN when we finally got to the head of the line, we were told that they were “out of cones.”

Seriously, Bluebird? OUT OF CONES? Ten minutes after opening?

They were also out of root beer, several flavors of ice cream, and the chocolate pudding flavor I wanted to try was “too hard to scoop,” according to The One Guy Working Alone.

The scoops were also skimpy considering the price. And they charge you an extra fifty cents to split a scoop into two flavors — jerk move by all accounts.

But it was still fun. The stools at the bar were fun to spin around on. Fremont is funky-fresh and it was fun to share it with my kids. Fun fun fun.

I took a nap when I got home.

(And Brian and I went out for salmon at Ivar’s Salmon House, and we got to eat at a table on a barge at the edge of Lake Union, and we watched lots of boats go by right at sunset. Which, to tell the truth, made up for the lack-of-cones afternoon by the tun.)

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