Our Rocky Road: An Open Letter to Blue Bell

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credit: breitbart.com

Dear Blue Bell,
What? Did you really think I forgot??

When a teensy, weensy listeria outbreak forced us apart in April of 2015, I choked down Blue Bunny in a rebound attempt.

It’s been nearly 2 years, and I’m not too proud to admit it: I……. never got over you.

We grew up a mere 90 minutes apart: I in Georgetown, TX, and you at your creamery in Brenham. Mint Chip and Moosetracks were like half-gallon members of our family! Then love and marriage took me to Minnesota for 5 years where a whole populous is tragically unaware of you. They did try, bless their hearts: “Tillamook is exactly the same!” But I knew…
(Obligatory shout out to Flapdoodles in Rochester, whose Salty Caramel was the only thing that got me through.)

July 2013: “Let’s observe a moment of silence and behold the wonder that this this case.”

Then, 2015 brought me to Arizona, and we bumped into each other – totally unsuspecting – in the grocery store aisle. I was shocked! And flustered!
There I stood, mouth agape, as we just stared at each other in disbelief through that freezer’s frosted glass in silence.
“Is it really you?? After all these years?!” I proclaimed it to the world with this Instagram photo.

But alas, our reunion would be short lived. And I’ve spent 23 long months awaiting your promised return.
Now… I will admit……….. My sentiments weren’t always as they should have been. Facebook recently reminded me of this quazi-scathing post I made about your price increase early in 2014, when your presence was still just a spoon’s reach away:

Dear Blue Bell,
Your ice cream is $8 per tub. EIGHT DOLLARS. This is highway robbery. But my hands are tied because you are cold and creamy and delicious and wonderful and I can enjoy you during nap time when no one is looking and again after dinner bc it is August and still ridiculously hot at 8PM.
And so, here we are. You and me. As long as it is above 100 degrees, you have me pinned. I will continue to purchase you two gallons at a time (that’s $16 per grocery trip, you dirty thief) and I will lick the carton when it is done.

But I have my eye on you.

You seeeeeee, BB… I didn’t know what I was saying.
I didn’t KNOW that our days were numbered like Kate and Leo.
I didn’t know that mere months remained before you’d be torn from my life again.
I just didn’t know!!

But you were. And one by one, I moved through all of the stages of grief, which cried out via their own Facebook statuses, each recalled below:

DENIAL: April 2015

I mean, how bad could “listeria” be for you anyway?!? Abdominal cramping, vomiting, diarrhea, perilous dehydration…. It’s fine! Blue Bell, this is not happening.

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ANGER: July 2015
(albeit, Phoenix-in-July-pregnancy-induced. So cut me some slack.)

Okay, Blue Bell, here’s the thing. It’s about to be August in Phoenix, and I’m losing patience with you every day. This baby wants ice cream, and while some might argue there is a plethora of options, you and I both know those others ain’t no you. Get your act together because Mama needs Pecan Praline. Now.

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BARGAINING: March 2016

I can’t stop looking in my freezer. I keep thinking you’ll reappear, with your gold-rimmed lid and your top-view window. Blue Bell, I miss you! Come back. I’ll never complain about your price tag again.

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ACCEPTANCE

Not a Facebook post… but I have 2 barely-touched cartons of Eddy’s Slow Churned in my freezer as I type.

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So here we are Blue Bell. It’s time. Time to rekindle or move on….

Show your face in AZ on March 6th, as your website promises, or all bets are off.
If you no-show, I’m pledging my loyalty to Tillamook, which I don’t even like because they make weird flavors like Cinnamon Horchata and Marionberry Pie. I mean, what even is that?

Don’t push it. You’ve strung me along long enough, and I won’t be trifled with anymore. What more do I have to do?! You’re mentioned (albeit kind of accusingly) in this blog post. You’re even listed right in my BIO for Scottsdale Moms Blog, for crying out loud!

Don’t let me down. March 6th. You and me. Freezer aisle. You bring the Homemade Vanilla.

Until then,
Rebecca

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