Ice Ice Baby

I love ice.

It's one of my favorite substances in the world. Right up there with water, mist and steam. It has been my great and glorious pleasure to live in a house, this past year-and-a-half, with an automatic ice maker.
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Free ice. On demand. Imagine that.

I still hoard the stuff, though. When the ice bucket's full I dump it right into a bag, so that bucket can fill up again, with more of the fresh delicious stuff.

My obsession with ice stems from all our years on the road. Ice was treasure. Ice was gold. Ice kept our groceries fresh, our happy hour drinks refreshing, and our milk for morning coffee unsullied.

That's what I love about ice. It's got so many uses. It's such a giving, friendly, undemanding friend.

I also love the sound of ice, getting poured into a cooler.
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This summer, just as predicted, I spent a lot of time at various and sundry beaches, always with a trusty Oscar in hand, full of beer and wine and snacks -- you've got to prepare for at least two sessions (lunch and happy hour) at the beach, you know.

The bucket of love (which arrived within a bigger bucket of love) has been a spectacular new addition to the proceedings.

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We've had some awesome coolers full of that awesome one-two punch -- ice-and-beers -- over the years:.

A few days after our epic Poconos vacation my sister Julie texted me, "I miss your cooler of love." The cooler in the Poconos was indeed full of love: cans of Yuengling and cans of Becks? And cans of seltzer, underneath? In one cooler of love? Be still, my beating heart. .

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We spent most of the winter of 2003 in Mexico's Baja Peninsula, and always had a cooler of love going there:
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Tecate in Baja California Norte . . .

. . . and, after crossing Guerrero Negro into Baja California Sur, Pacifico. And ne'er the twain shall meet.
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Baja is arid and desert-like, but has the best and cheapest water -- and ice -- in the world, because every tiny little town has a desalination machine. Mistah once made the mile-walk home from town to Campo Gecko with a couple of bags of ice. Dripping onto his sandals. Which made me weep.

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And speaking of arid and desert-like, Nogales Arizona has the same climate as Baja. It does not, however, have the same beauty. It did, however, for days and days -- for nine days -- provide us with free ice. The best kind.
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But my favorite use of ice?

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One that makes me and, clearly, the angels, sing?.

Now we're talking.