Ice

Where would we be if there was no such thing as ice?

Warm beer. (But if you know anything at all about beer, that is a good thing).

But no cold lager.

Them’s fighting words.

Ice storms would just be storms and those old ice skates in your closet would never have been made in the first place.

There would only be water polo and field hockey.

There would probably be a whole different (trippy) kind of air hockey.

I’m still waiting for holograms in everyday life.

I’ve been threatening to get one of those Oculus headsets after listening to my niece tell me about them.

I never needed ice in my whiskey.

Neat.

But never without an ice cold beer of any kind.

Ice can be a small inconvenience if you’ve ever had to use a credit card to clear your frosted windows like George in Same Time, Next Year.

Wow, that was some segue and I can now fully blame it on my new best friend, Wedding Cake strain at a 30% THC kick.

“Put him on ice.”

First reaction?

Keep the corpse fresh.

Second reaction?

Keep an eye on him.

Reality?

Keep the North Carolina Swordfish fully iced before we break it down.

As a chef, I was very fortunate to have had access to the best seafood on the planet when I worked at many boutique eateries on the coast from San Clemente to San Luis Obispo.

When I resumed my craft creating California-cuisine garnished classical French food, I used a lot of ice. I was blessed with free reign and an owner with deep pockets.

Fresh Iranian Golden caviar demanded it.

Sorbets between courses.

The champagne bottles (copious amounts) didn’t ice themselves.

I will tell you truthfully that if there is ice on the ground at any time of the year, there is an excellent possibility I will be more inclined to be discovered with a tasty bowl in front of a nice fire.

I still can’t decide whether I would like to check out by excessive heat or extreme cold.

I am a California Boy spending the majority of my life in the deserts of Arizona. I honestly was fine with the hot summers when temperatures reached 120 degrees.

It’s not like I was out in the sun running sprints.

I was half-baked drinking cold ones poolside.

Or in the house where the air conditioning unit had icicles forming on my nose as my balls were ingloriously reduced to the size of pink peppercorns.

Ahhhhhhh.

Cooling and refreshing.

It’s like golf.

Yes we had year-round golf, that just means it doesn’t rain much.

In the three decades I lived there, I only had my tee-time rained out once.

In northern Arizona where they have things like Ponderosa Pines and mountains like the San Francisco Peaks. I never remember any ice on the ground when I lived in Tucson, however, the tops of the Catalina Mountains would get dusted with snow and ice from time to time.

Stay well.

Published by maddogg09

I am an unmotivated genius with an extreme love for anything that moves the emotional needles of our lives.

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