Croquet and Baked Alaskas

In the calm before the tropical storm last week, while in a media-fed frenzy purchasing candles and tequila and barricading my apartment in anticipation for the worst, the filmmaker presented me with this decadently large and delicious homemade chocolate chip cookie ice cream sandwich. A few days prior, we had been nostalgically reminiscing about the corn syrup-infused, mass-produced variety, popular during our days of youth at the pool. With rich, thick, and quickly melting ice cream, a slightly salty cookie dough, and potent chocolate chips, the hand prepared version is obviously vastly superior. Approximately four inches or so in diameter, I prudently cut the cookie in half with a large, sharp knife and relished in this rare display of moderation. The next morning, powerless and in the dark, I frantically ate the second half of the frozen delight for breakfast, not wanting this treat to perish in the slowly warming freezer. With my grand and merciful gesture, sacrificing my waist, I saved the cookie from a horrendous and shameful melted fate.

Today, Labor Day, I am unwillingly meeting the official calendar close of summer; despite the heavy rains of late and the congregations of pious, devout clouds, the air remains warm, the insects emerged from earthen caverns and coffins abound. Though the sun and other celestial bodies will act and react with their own autonomous laws, for me, in spirit and attitude, I look forward to an Indian Summer.