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I RUSH TO THE DOOR OF the ice cream shop, where a young woman is in the process of locking the door. With gestures I implore her to let us in. (Oh, just use your imagination, Dear Reader [Very well, if you must know--I clasp my hands in supplication while mouthing please please) She opens the door and I gush my thanks! Right behind me is The Yard Man. All the chairs in the ice cream shop are upended on the tables. I really don't wish to tell the kid who is waiting to dish up our ice cream that two more customers will be along shortly. "Here's what we can do," says The Yard Man. "I'll just order four different kinds, and Gabe and Jenn can choose whichever two they want."
"Yes," I say, anxiously peering out at the parking lot. "That's what we'll have to do."
The yard man starts opting just as my cell phone rings. "Hi," says Gabe. "We're here. Where are you?"
"Oh, good!" I say, relieved. "We're here in the ice cream shop."
"Well, where is the ice cream shop?" says Gabe. "We're already here."
"The ice cream shop is right beside the restaurant. But they've locked the door to the ice cream shop. Just come on back through the restaurant!"
 "Uh. What?" Gabe sounds confused. I hear him ask Jenn, "Is there another part to this place?"
To me he says, "We're AT the ice cream shop! We're ordering our ice cream."
"Uh. What?!" I say.
"Yeah," he says. "And they're sweeping up the floor. They've closed!"

Ah, Reader Dear. Backing up affords a much better view! You've no doubt spotted the comical error: We had raced to two different ice cream shops!

So then, with their ice cream melting, Gabe and Jenn drive all the way to Oregon Dairy Store to join us.   And meanwhile The Yard Man and I take tiny bites (well, at least I do, Reader Dear!) as we sit in the dark at the outdoor picnic table on this lovely last night of spring and watch as the parking lot empties.  In spite of my nibbling, I'm finished with my ice cream, and most every car is gone from the parking lot when Gabe and Jenn arrive with their dishes of soupy ice cream.  We all have a very good laugh.
  "We very nearly got four servings of ice cream!" I tell them. "We were going to get four different kinds and let you choose. They were scooping up the second one when you called!"
"Oh!" said Jenn. "We thought of that plan, too--to get four! I thought I would choose just some basic kind."

And there you have it, Reader Dear, the small comedy of errors!
"Eight dishes of ice cream!....Oh, I wish it would have happened," I sighed. "What a good story THAT would have been!"

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