It all started with a midnight brownie…
Yesterday, there was a bowl of stone fruits sitting on the counter. Rich red plums, vibrant orange nectarines, and sunkissed peaches. It was quite a beautiful sight.
But today, the bowl no longer contains nectarines or peaches. We ate the nectarines in their natural, juicy glory, and I baked the peaches to enhance their natural, juicy glory.
Poor little plums . . .
Seriously.
What’s a girl to do when:
-College applications are looming in her mind.
-Her room is a mess.
-Her room needs to be cleaned.
-She wants to watch the remaining 13 episode of Criminal Minds that are saved on TiVo.
-But she can’t do that, because she need to finish those applications.
- . . . And clean her room.
-Can there be more than 24 hours in a day?
So again, I ask: What’s a girl to do?
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Yesterday, I talked about ice cream. Strawberry ice cream.
I teased you about it. Showed you pictures. Made you salivate.
And that was mean of me. Just plain mean.
You probably went to bed last night thinking about that baby pink strawberry ice cream.
You probably laid in bed last night and dreamt about that baby pink strawberry ice cream.
You probably woke up this morning and wanted to hurt me, because of all of the above.
Well, I’m sorry. Really. Truly.
Believe me? Please?
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I was 6 years old when my family and I took a week-long trip to Lake Placid for our annual summer vacation. I remember seeing and doing a lot of cool things over the course of that week - figure skating on olympic ice, watching ski-jumpers practicing their dare-devilish stunts, wandering around the charming little town and discovering the many shops it had to offer.
And who could forget getting stuck in traffic – caused by, of all things, an Iron Man competition?
But one of the most memorable parts of the entire trip – for me, anyway, was our stop at an unassuming restaurant on the drive there.
To be honest, I don’t remember much about this place. Don’t know the name, the address. Don’t even know what I ate for lunch (though my guess would be a hamburger or a hotdog . . . for what it’s worth).
What I do remember, however, was what I got for dessert – a strawberry ice cream cone.
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