Ever since I can remember, ice cream has been one of my favorite things to eat. For this girl growing up in a third world, tropical country when airconditioning was still a novel thing, ice cream was a liberator to sweltering days where it doesn’t matter how much fans were turned to you, you still felt like a sticky, sweaty mess. It did help that I had a grandmother who sold it, from Magnolia in its heyday, to Nestle when it took over the national (well provincial) market. I remember being able to finish off a Twin Popsies before even a drop even melted, and a pint of Double Dutch…

  If you have not been under a rock the past few months, you’ve surely heard of the Game of Thrones. This HBO series had a Sean Bean headed f (pun intended) first season of incest, betrayal and the lust for power in a glorious maze of characters. Several months late in reading the books (I read Jessica Zafra thought it slow moving, and I value that woman’s opinion ever so highly) I find myself excited for the hour when I get to curl up to this 800+ page tome, and the next few books after it. Truth be told, I did have the same reaction, the first several chapters…