Raspberry filling. You’re welcome.

Do you even need to know what I’m referring to in that post title? I submit that you do not. But, just in case you really, really like raspberry (as do I my friend, as do I), I would like to tell you about a magical treat with which I have recently decided to eat in great quantity fallen in love.

Okay, you guys, get ready for it. You know Tim Horton’s raspberry-filled jelly donuts? YES YOU DO. DON’T EVEN TRY TO TELL ME YOU DON’T KNOW THEM, BECAUSE THEY ARE DELICIOUS.

raspberry donut

Imagine that the delicious filling (c’mon, I know the filling’s really the only reason we eat the donut) has been tapped by the horn of a unicorn, sprinkled with pixie dust and fairy wishes (and also swirled with chocolate dreams, of course) and turned, as though by magic, into ice cream. That’s right. I said ice cream.

Yeah. RASPPLE-BERRY DELICIOUSNESS IN MAGICALRISHICAL ICE CREAM WONDERMENT (with a chocolate swirl, but who cares about that when there’s raspberry filling in your ice cream?).

Thank you, Island Farms (I think their dairy products taste better, because their cows are island cows and therefore happier cows. It’s like you can taste the happiness.).

Without further ado, I present to you Rocky Raspberry (though just in the picture, because I’m totally not sharing any of my ice cream. Sorry, but it’s too good and I already have to compete with Adam.):


You should get some of this. And then invite me over to “help” you with it.

Try it. You won’t be disappointed. Though I sort of hope you are, because then maybe you’ll give it to me… I would take it off your hands, because I’m a good friend and that is what friends do: They take it (“it” being ice cream) for the team.

Also, on Sunday night, something happened that’s never happened to me before: A pair of my Havaianas broke. Unwearably. Luckily, I wasn’t out walking in town or anything, because how gross would it be to walk barefoot downtown? (Clearly not so gross, according to a surprisingly high number of readers on my work blog who think it’s just fine to prance about with naked feet, whereas I think it’s decidedly Hepatitis C and lockjaw-inducingly not-fine)

Luckily, I have an unusually vast quantity of these kind of sandals (what? WHAT? HOW ARE YOU EVEN SURPRISED? THEY ARE SHOES, ARE THEY NOT?). But still. Still! That’s a first!

broken sandals

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