I woke up this morning thinking about Victoria's Dream-sickle painting--which then reminded me of driving to and from Perry (where my grandparents lived) every week, 30 miles away.  If Bob and I could stay awake for the who-o-o-le long 20-minutes to Hawkinsville on a Sunday night, we could get a Dream-sickle or a chocolate-all-the-way-through at a service station there.  (They weren't called gas stations, but service stations, and that they were.  You sat in your car while a man came out and filled 'er up and washed your windshield.)

A Dream-sickle was half orange sherbet, half vanilla ice cream.  I wonder what they are called in Panama, Victoria?  Or Mexico?  Or Southside San Antonio?

What we called snow cones in Georgia are called raspas here in San Antonio--but these are more delicious.  The ice is shaved, for one thing, and the liquid is fruitier in the best places.  A mango raspa is SO good!

The Dairy Queen was our first fast-food place in Cochran, years before McDonalds.  That's when mass-produced signs started taking over.  Before that, every store had its own sign, usually handmade or with letters cut from wood.

What a contrast to the advertising that fills my inbox every morning: "Hurry!"  "Only one more day!" "Don't miss a thing!" I heard on NPR yesterday that there are actually little cameras in the stores that can detect whether we are smiling or not when we look at a particular brand of diapers or lotion or whatever--then (if you have the app), they will instantly send you a discount coupon for the product that made you smile!

Before meeting Phoebe at the gym, I think I'll go back to bed and dream of sickles.

Later today, I'll find out from Victoria what food truck made those amazing fruit/vegetable/candy foods last night and I'll let you know....