ok, I know. Enough with the ice cream.

Nope. Sorry I’m not sorry. Not listening.

Maybe its the fact that my (and everyone else’s) fondest memories are of ice cream. Grandma’s Sugar Plums was my go-to spot every other friday with my dad. I remember walking there the day that place closed. Standing outside and staring at the empty ice cream case — like big teeth with cavities. I remember thinking “what am I supposed to do now?” That ice cream maker and I were destined to be soul mates.

Ice cream is also my creative outlet away from “art.” I like to make up my own recipes, make a mess, and execute ideas in other places than my desk sometimes. When I run out of paper or fabric or yarn, the grocery store is just right around the corner.

I’ll try not to bore you too frequently with all of this ice cream business. It’s summer. give me a break.

Sherbet is totally meant to be served in clear glasses. WHY would you EVER hide that beautiful color in a bowl?

I’m in love with the display — big ol’ slice of papaya… on the papaya ice cream. Cause that’s what’s in it. duh.

My Bacon Maple ice cream would be DELIGHTFUL in that waffle. mmhmm.

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