Spoonfuls of Soma...

Of all the important things I really wanted to tell you today, and needed to get off my melon, nothing can escape the sheer blinding power of honey on vanilla ice cream. I'm blocked. And thoroughly drugged by the good sugars. I can only relay to you sizzle of the Pollock drizzle that freezes and then melts as you wait for the ice cream to find its proper temperature and texture. Lay it on a bed of shredded wheat as they do in Crete. Lay it on your troubles and watch them get sidelined for another fifteen minutes of taming. Lay into the bees and cows for stopping civilization dead in its tracks with their bedeviled treacles.