When I was a kid growing up in Phoenix we would play out in the yard in the summer each day, before it got so hot you could fry eggs on the sidewalk.

The highlight of the day came when the faint sound of the ice cream truck making its rounds could be heard.  We’d run in the house, get a quarter, and speed back outside to await the treat truck rounding the corner.

Strange music blaring from the speaker, the truck would stop just as soon as we hurled our bodies in front of it.  Yes, in front of it, waving arms wildly to get the elderly gent’s attention.

The truck came every day during summer vacation.  And we expected it would.  Regularly.  Like the sunrise.

On those very rare occasions when it didn’t show up (we never knew if we just missed it or if it was somehow detained by evil forces) we were crushed.  Disappointed, we’d drop our cowboy and indian toys and sit on the swing sad.  At least for a few minutes till that bored us and we’d return to terrorizing our neighbors.  But I digress.

My point is that when you’re expecting something and it doesn’t show up, it’s troubling.  And sometimes disappointing.

So, Kevin, where the heck is the November Carnival?  November 1 has come and gone and November 2 is half over…  So where is it?  Or has the truck broken down and the Carnival isn’t coming to town?