Attention

I guess we got mentioned in the New York Times recently. Our coffee and mint ice creams were on a list of the author's favorite artisan foods. That's really nice and very flattering; we go to a lot of trouble to make those flavors and it's nice that our efforts are appreciated. We brew the coffee right into the ice cream mix and we pick and destem all the mint by hand. We're crazy about fresh ingredients and we're usually grinding the coffee or picking the mint on Wednesday morning as Jay and Steve are setting up the ice cream freezers.

The appearance of that article explains why our phone and e-mail have been buzzing lately with requests from New York and Florida asking us to send our ice cream in the mail. It's very nice that people are so interested in our stuff and willing to pay whatever it takes to get it to them. The problem is, that sending ice cream in the mail is rather involved. The process goes something like this:

Pack up children in the car and drive up to the creamery (it's 100 yds. from the house) and get ice cream and pack it in the cooler. Hope that Oliver stays happy and that the older boys are not fighting. Put the cooler in the car and drive 20 miles to the big supermarket that sells the Styrofoam coolers, not the coop I usually shop at. On the drive, tell the kids one of our long, involved stories about the Construction Boys who solve all their family's crises with things they build out of scrap lumber or the Pixie Sprites, who steal children's shiny treasures, drink moonlight, are afraid of rocks, and are magic, but only a little bit. Unbuckle the boys from their carseats and go into the big supermarket. Put Oliver in the seat of the shopping cart, bribe Harley and Jackson with a treat to stay right at my side, and pick Cliffy up to retrieve a cooler from its perch on top of the beer cooler. It's imprinted with NASCAR all over it. Wicked cool. Pay for cooler, reload kids, and drive 5 miles to Dry Ice Place. Dry Ice Place is actually New England Medical Couriers and selling dry ice pellets by the scoopful is not their primary business. They seem happy to see the kids, who are fascinated by the steamy cold. I give the nice people the extra pint of ice cream I brought along, pay and take my wicked-cool and now wicked-heavy cooler back out to the car, hoping the handle doesn't break as I carry it with the arm that's not holding Oliver. I buckle all the kids and drive 3 miles to FedEx, where, if we're lucky, there is only one other car in the parking area. More cars mean a line and no car means the nice FedEx lady could be doing something important in the back and we'll have to ring the bell and wait for her to appear and help us. I hate to ring bells. I fill out the FedEx forms and dry ice disclosures while trying to keep the Construction Boy or Pixie Sprite story going so I won't feel so bad about schlepping these poor kids around all day. We pay the $50 to $100 it costs to send the ice cream and get back in the car to go home but Oliver will be hungry so we'll sit in the parking lot while I nurse him. When Oliver has fallen to sleep, I'll try to get him nestled in his carseat without waking him, but I'm only rarely successful and there are three traffic lights to stop at before we can get on the highway and the sound of the tires lulls him to sleep. We drive 25 miles home and I think of what I'm going to cook for dinner while I try to wrap up the Construction Boy or Pixie Sprite story with a tidy, cohesive ending.

So you see, this is something I will only do for love, and not money. My brother, who I love dearly and who loves our coffee ice cream, gets a shipment every couple of years. Once FedEx messed up and it all melted, even though it was winter and well below zero in Wyoming.

Thank you, kind writer at the New York Times and thank you people who think it would be worth the expense to get our ice cream in the mail. I'm sorry we can't help you, but we're going to stay at home and take care of the cows and each other so we'll want to keep doing this. You could always take some ice cream home with you next time you visit Vermont. The NASCAR coolers are at the big supermarket at Exit 20, on top of the beer cooler, when you first walk in.