It's very strange that you bring up ice-cream men, because I was thinking yesterday about how one of the jobs topping my "I do not ever want to have this job" list is ice-cream man. I'm not a fan of interacting with children, the food-service industry, driving near children (inherently unpredictable beings with small bodies + my poor depth perception = gore), ice cream in general, and being indoors (or in a truck) during summer.

My relationships with animals are always a little off. I've only enjoyed the company of one dog in my life, a dog which I loved with a passion while I was at the same time very afraid of ALL other dogs. I had pet gerbils with my sister when we were growing up, but the only time I ever held them was when I was putting them in their little rolling balls while I cleaned their tank. Even then I would usually just put the balls inside their tank and nudge the gerbils inside with a single, reluctant finger.

Contrast this to 10+ years older Camille who last month had a mouse in her bedroom for over a week. When other people screamed and cried and slept in other buildings to avoid the thing, I would drift to sleep happily, content that my little mouse friend was enjoying her new home (I took her nocturnal, noisy squeaking and shuffling as little nods of approval to my gracious hospitality). When it came time for her to go (when I finally was able to trap her in a yogurt container and set her free), my heart-strings were downright tugged. I cuddled her, cooed at her, eye-gazed with her, and named her (Ophelia). There was such an attachment to this little mouse friend that had kept me company for so many mornings and late, late evenings that, when it came time for me to take her out of the building, I wanted to cry (please note that I didn't actually cry). Explain that one to me.

I saw this parked on my street today. I'd never seen a van like that before in person. Neat.

Today, walking on Central Park West, I met a man who was sprightly. That's the only word I can think to describe him. As soon as I saw him, I just gasped out loud, "he is sprightly." They made the word for him. He was short (5'2" max), extremely fit/slender with a small waist, had very light grey hair, and was the fastest walker I've ever seen.

I am a fast walker. I have long legs and decent strength in them. Years of practice have allowed me to develop a stride so powerful and long that I can't remember a time where I haven't been able to easily keep up with another person when walking on flat ground. This guy was blowing past me. I was walking as fast as I could short of trotting, but for every 8 feet I covered, he'd cover 10. And I was pushing.
I followed him for about 9 blocks (we were going in the same direction!) and that entire time I was analyzing his stride, trying to find where this man whose legs were so much shorter than mine was getting all of this speed! I couldn't figure it out. I imagined him in many different scenarios. Climbing trees, rock-climbing, doing ballet and yoga, and sprinting, all with ease. I have never been in awe of another person's body like that before. No, not just because he was fast. He had perfect posture and was small but strong and completely in control of his physical self. It was amazing to watch.
I will never have a body like his. Yes, I can get stronger and leaner and more flexible and develop better posture etc. etc. But I will never be a compact little machine like him.
I'd have to chop of parts of my legs to get that small, and that would just make me stumpy, not sprightly (stumpy because of the literal stumps, not simply because the proportions would be off).

-Camille