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Wow, it’s been almost two months since I’ve posted something on here. I swear I don’t eat only ice cream and peanut butter cups, as this blog may lead you to believe. (Can you imagine?) Stick around til the end of this post, I have a little announcement to make…
My friend Celia recently asked me to make some ice cream for a birthday party — her boyfriend’s family was in town from California, and knowing my ice cream making obsession, she decided to ask me for a couple batches rather than pick up whatever this or that ice cream was
Friends. Let me tell you about this yummy little lunch I made myself and my roommate today. But first, I need to talk about something. As I write this, I can feel myself sinking and slouching farther and farther down the couch. My brain, my body, my energy…totally checked out.
When I was little, my dad and I had this ritual where we’d go to Haley’s Ice Cream and each get a cup of our favorite. Mine was always peanut butter cup, and his was rum raisin. We’d scurry back into his navy blue Ford Escort with no AC and