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A new appreciation for a sweet treat

Triceps burning, body temperature way too high for the three layers beneath my down coat, I marvel at how my father, every other time but this, hand-cranks his homemade ice cream without another soul stepping in to relieve him. 

“OK, Dad.  I think it’s ready.  I can’t turn the handle another inch.”

My Dad says ,“Alrightie” and I hop up so he can take my seat and agree with my assessment that we can’t possibly crank the sucker anymore.