WHAT PART OF 31 FLAVORS DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?

Tonight I had the pleasure of helping my friend Teresa, who owns a Baskin-Robbins ice cream franchise. It was "Free Scoop Night" and I was a "celebrity scooper." Pass up an opportunity to be that close to so much ice cream? Not on your life.

I had a great time, and those BR workers earned every penny, we were jammed for 4 hours. It amazes me how long people will stand in line to get a $1.50 worth of ice cream for free. Folks danced outside in the cool spring evening to music so loud I thought I was back in college at a frat smoker. Kids held tight to balloons; the ones who let go wailed, but were rescued by a teenager who painted their faces with sparkly art. Lots of nice people donated money to buy new books for our local library.

My book, The Big Girls' Guide to Life, was a door prize...very appropriate, since we were at an ice cream store. One winner was a tiny elderly man, a man so thin I think he might have weighed 92 pounds...that's if we had soaked him in water and filled his shoes with concrete, bless his heart. Give that man as many Free Scoops as he can eat, and a side order of cheeseburgers!

But if I'm gonna stand in a line that stretches from say, here to eternity, when I finally reach that counter, and when a cheerful Baskin-Robbins employee finally asks what I'd like FOR FREE, it ain't gonna be Vanilla. But as I scooped ice cream, I was amazed at the number of folks who did just that...here's the chance to get ANY FLAVOR for FREE, and they asked for Vanilla. In a cup. Not in a sugar cone, not in a cake cone, in a cup. Plain. Not even French Vanilla. Just plain, old Vanilla.

It was almost physically impossible for me to grant their requests, these Vanilla-lovers. I tried to sell them on Chocolate Mousse. Begged them to taste Peanut Butter & Chocolate. Almost made headway with the Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, because it's mostly Vanilla and appearances are deceptive. But man, these Vanilla people, they are headstrong. They can't be persuaded or coerced. Don't mess with their Vanilla, or there will be hell to pay.

I momentarily considered whether I've lived my life on the wrong side of the Chocolate-Or-Vanilla Highway, and that I should reassess the merits of Vanilla ice cream as a taste treat. Now any good scientist worth her weight in cholesterol knows that in order to test one's theory, one must perform a bit of research. When there's food involved, I'm always first up to the plate, so to speak.

So on my break, I scooped myself some Vanilla. I stared at that Vanilla, prepared to taste its full essence, appreciate it as a ground-breaker in Life's Flavor Myriad. But that Vanilla didn't speak to me. It just sat there, so plain, so uninviting. Maybe that's the simplicity of its appeal, I mused. Perhaps Vanilla isn't really boring, or dull, or lifeless. Perhaps Vanilla is the penultimate Nirvana.

One taste of that Vanilla whacked my theory to bits faster than a baseball bat on a wine glass. I tried a second bite, with no Great Sensation of Vanilla Completeness. All you Vanilla lovers, you do what you have to do. Me, I slapped a generous portion of Hot Fudge on that puppy, and let's just say that orgasmic doesn't even begin to describe how much better that Vanilla tasted. So here's my conclusion: God made Vanilla purely as a carrier for Hot Fudge. Anybody who doesn't add Hot Fudge to their Vanilla ice cream commits a mortal sin. The devil is in the details? Go, devil, go, pour on the Hot Fudge and burn, baby, burn!