Little Bit of Heaven on Earth

Sometimes I love just thinking and enjoying just one small but fantastically wonderful thing that happened during the day. This evening, for instance, I really felt like I needed a "treat." I've put out way too much money this past month or two, between having to replace a smoking, leaking old van, and paying for major roof patches on my double-wide, plus increased vehicle insurance costs, etc.

I've tried to balance that by not buying anything that isn't totally, completely, positively necessary, until major repairs, etc., are finished.

That doesn't mean I don't crave something special. I used to love picking up a MickyD's hot fudge sundae and bringing it home to enjoy. Here in Vegas, it gets way too hot, too early, and the sundae is "soup" by the time it gets home, cheap as it is.

Tonight, though, it dawned on me that I had the fixings in the house for an old favorite. It has been years, literally decades, since I've had one. I made myself a root bear float. I hauled out a can of generic diet root beer, a recycled container that originally housed two pounds of either macaroni salad or some such and which is now a "leftover" container, my ice cream scoop, a fat plastic straw, a long-handled ice-tea spoon, and what was left of a half-gallon of Breyers French Vanilla. I bought the root beer a month ago. Being generic, it was only $2 a 12-pack at the time. I bought the ice cream on sale about the same time, for less than $3. I had forgotten I still had some of that ice cream left.

I could not have wished for a more delicious treat. It will keep me satisfied for at least a month. I suspect I will want another this summer. Well, I might not make a month; maybe two weeks (LOL).

Still, it's amazing how much good it did me, just sipping on that root beer float, nice and easy.

Father, thank you so much for this special treat, for helping me to think of it, for the senses (all five of them) which ensured I enjoyed every little bit of it; thank you for all the times I do not thank you for the little things.