I'm no good at push-ups. I got a question asked of me on Facebook, one time, by a friend of mine. It was, "Can you do 100 push-ups?"

I said, "Sure. Eventually."

NOW, if we're talking about the wonderful orange sherbet treat on a stick, no I won't do  100 of them, but I'll "do" one or two far more enthusiastically.

I was a weird kid and quite capable of driving my mother crazy if the mood struck me. In the interest of eating "healthier" desserts, back in the day, she'd bring home sherbet from the grocery store, instead of ice cream. And it was always orange.

And I found that to be so boring. "Why can't it Just. Be. Ice Cream?"

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But here's the thing, when Dad would take me to Goodman's Barber Shop, my reward for sitting still and behaving--aside from NOT having Dad yell at me--was an Orange Push-Up. Sherbet on a stick. And I LOVED it.

I have to wonder what I thought. I mean it was the exact same treat I was turning my nose up at on the home front, but at the barbershop? It was ambrosia. And when Dad might casually bring it up, I'd get the "Mom look." And I get it. Why can I eat orange sherbet after a haircut but not after dinner?

Hey, I should have been grateful. Here was my mother WANTING me to eat dessert and I was being a snob.

I don't see them in the stores anymore, and when I went to find them online to see if they could be ordered, I got a specific Target site from a store in Chicago.

So, yes, they can be ordered--and, presumably, they'd come to the house packed in dry ice--but if I want to DRIVE to get one, that's a six-hour haul.

I guess it'll have to stay a memory.

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