I scream, you scream, and then I scream some more

Yesterday, Scott took half a day of vacation, and I was off all day. We decided to take the girls to the Blue Bell* Ice Cream Factory. It was a rainy, cloudy, and generally, crappy day, so HEY! Let's take a road trip! It got us out of the house, and my God, as long as I didn't have to watch Monsters, Inc. for the bazillionth time, I didn't care where we went.

The trip there was okay. It's about 45 minutes to an hour to get there. Claire conked out during the first 15 minutes of the trip, and Jenna's a good trip-taker. She just sits in the back and points out the several thousand cows that roam the landscape. It's like a play-by-play of every rancher's property:

"And here's some brown cows! Hey brown cows, how're ya doin? Look at that one, that one's light brown, and it's eating. The dark brown one is pooping, and hey! There are some black and white cows. Those are milk cows. Everyone knows that those are milk cows. Look! That baby cow is eating boobies. Hey, that's my cow-milk, baby cow! And look over there! The cows are sleeping! Look at that. They're sleeping on the grass..."

I know what every cow from here to Brenham was doing yesterday, between 12 and 1.

The factory tour was decent. I don't know what I expected, but let me tell you, there were no oompa-loompas, no rivers of chocolate, and not one damn shred of tasty, lickable wallpaper. Claire licked a lot of the walls, testing it, and by the face she made, it was not yummy. There were, however, lots of pipes, lots of ice cream cartons, and lots of sullen people, wearing goofy blue and white striped hats over their hairnets. I got to thinking: it's a manufacturing line. Just because it's ice cream doesn't mean it's fun. You can be manufacturing an ice cream sandwich, or a toilet brush--it's all the same. I guess, unless you're feeling snackity. It wouldn't do you much good to snag a toilet brush off the line, but an ice cream sandwich? Yea, NOW we're talking.

We made it through the entire, 30-minute tour, with Jenna asking, "When do we get ice cream? When do we get ice cream? When do we get ice cream?" over and over and over until I'm sure that the old people behind us were plotting against her. It was over rather quickly, and we got our free scoop of ice cream. Jenna didn't start screaming that she couldn't have more until we were leaving. THAT, my friends, is a successful outing.

*If you live in the South, you know and love Blue Bell; if you live somewhere else, you've most likely never had Blue Bell ice cream, but believe me, when I say it is the best. Once you try it, you will never go back.