Yesterday was a chilly, drizzly, dreary day in Virginia Beach. My husband and I always go down to the Oceanfront late in the afternoon or early evening for our Sunday ice cream trip to Dairy Queen. I get a chocolate dipped cone and my husband opts for chocolate sprinkles. We never vary. It’s our routine. Yesterday, however, when my husband asked if we should go or if maybe it was too cold, we looked outside at the grey day and the trees frantically waving in the increasing wind, and we both decided we would skip it this time.
It’s hard to break a routine. When it is something you look forward to, it’s comforting to repeat it time and time again. Something seems missing when you forego it. We started the Sunday ice cream routine when we were first married and living in Storrs, a little hamlet in rural Connecticut. We’d go to a soft ice cream stand about a mile away, or we went to the dairy bar at the university. When we had our children, our Sunday ice cream routine continued at Baskin Robbins in Alamo Heights in Texas.
I remember our Friday night routine with my father when I was a child. Friday was pay day, and that meant we got to eat at Rawley’s Drive-in in Fairfield, Connecticut, my hometown. Rawley’s was a hole-in-the-wall place so close to the railroad tracks, it shook every time a train went by. But they had the best hotdogs I’ve ever eaten, loaded with kraut and bacon, and no one could beat their milkshakes. Whenever I visit Fairfield, I go there for lunch, and all those great memories of our Friday nights come flooding back.
When our kids were little and we were living in San Antonio, our Saturday morning routine was going to Rolando’s Super Tacos on Harry Wurzbach Road. Never in my life have I had a better bean a cheese taco, and their hot sauce was amazing. Yes, the little roaches that crawled around on the floor were a little disconcerting, but man-oh-man were those giant tacos great! Then one day when we went for our usual Saturday taco breakfast, we found Rolando’s was gone. I suspect the health inspector might have had something to do with it, but honestly, Rolando’s hot sauce would have killed any germs from those pesky roaches. Alas, our comfort food was no more. But wait! Rolando’s was next door to a Dunkin’ Donuts, so that became our new Saturday morning routine. I know our children remember those years fondly. Recently my husband and I have reinstituted that doughnut routine for the two of us.
Before you point out the obvious, I will say it for you. Yes, I know that all my cherished routines seem to revolve around food. But I’m sure we have other routines that are just as noteworthy, and if you give me awhile, I’m sure I could think of some. When I was trying to think of something to write for today’s post, I asked my husband for suggestions and he said to write about our Sunday ice cream routine. In that case, I said, in spite of the weather, we’d better head to Dairy Queen. Research, you know.