Neapolitan

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Growing up, ice cream was always a treat.  Wonderful homemade ice cream that my mother cooked on a stovetop with eggs and cream, which then me and my siblings would take turns hand churning on the patio.  After the ice cream was finished and taken inside, we had timed contests to see who could stand the longest barefoot in the icy cold water of the ice cream freezer. That was the best ice cream that I have ever had, ever will.

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My Paternal Grandfather was a big gentle giant (to the grandkids at least).  Every Sunday, he would drive over in the pickup truck with my diminutive, sweetest woman ever, Grandmother.  We would run out to greet Grandpa, and there were a lot of us, to jump up in his arms, and reach in his shirt pocket for the pack of Juicy Fruit gum that he always came with.  Growing up in a large family, 10 children, on a farm and limited resources, the treats were few and far between.  But, I think that if you ever ask any one of my siblings, we consider our childhood to be full of riches.  And, we had our own baseball team in the side yard!  Every Sunday, Grandpa also brought a gallon of Vanilla ice cream to have after dinner.  Perhaps one of my siblings can remember the brand name of the ice cream, it escapes me now.

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So, other ice cream flavors were always a treat.  When the large Meijer Thrifty Acres opened in Lansing 20+ miles away, my parents would trek there each week to load up on provisions (this was also where my mother bought my first yarn for projects for me).  Two children at a time were allowed to come along, a younger one and an older one to watch them.  How we waited for our turn to go shopping, as it meant penny horse rides,

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and most importantly, as our parents were checking out, money to go and get a single scoop of ice cream at the Meijer’s ice cream parlor, the only one many of us went to for years.  The Purple Cow poem hung above the large selection of flavors to choose from, and this poem still frequently pops in my head.  This was a huge treat for us.  I remember loving the gumball flavor as I was attracted to the swirl of colors, but it was always a tough choice.

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At home, the ice cream luxury, when something other than vanilla was proffered, was Neapolitan.  Putting that ice cream scoop into the box and getting a swirl of flavors was magical (although admittedly, I always tried to maximize my chocolate portions).

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So, when I saw this yarn, which has been in my stash for a very long time, memories immediately came flooding back.

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This is a self striping yarn, that was all the rage a few years back.  At one point I even tried to sell it.  I believe that it was purchased at a yarn store closing event, years ago.   In my effort to knit from stash, this was pulled out, and I knew what it needed to become!:

This is now my favorite cheating treat:

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