I'm so glad summer is here. It seems I spent much of the winter stuffed into maternity pants and trying to squeeze my hot-potato feet into increasingly snug shoes. Summer is a welcome sight. It's the one season where you're allowed to eat as much ice cream as you want and no one judges you for it. Well, no one judges you unless you're walking out of the creamery with a quadruple dip covered in marshmallow sauce and peanut butter cups. Then we're all giving you the stink eye.
But for me, this is the summer of Malt Shoppe Crunch. It's chocolate ice cream with chunks of malted milk balls shot all the way through and the creamery just down the street has it in stock every weekend when Justin and I head down for a scoop. Or two. But not four. That's just silly.
I might try to make my own in the near future (to save myself the trip, of course) but for now, you can find me on the picnic table outside. I'll be the girl with the camera and the sugar cone.