katydidwhat: We all scream for ice cream

Last night a group of friends and I piled into a car and headed out of the city to a lovely place called Richardson's. If you don't live in Eastern Mass, you might not have heard of it (not sure if they have any satellite locations) but Richardson's is a complex with mini golf, a driving range, batting cages, and the crowning glory, an ice cream shop. Really, it's more than a shop. They have their own cows and make their own ice cream and milk. And it's supremely delicious.

After a rousing game of mini golf in which I came in a respectable third (. . .out of four. and, ok, the guys might have all gone ahead and kicked the girls butts. . .) it was time for ice cream!

There were a mind boggling amount of options but, I decided on a chocolate peanut butter ice cream with jimmies, while my friend Hannah sprung for Purple Cow (black raspberry base, white and chocolate chunks). Oreo and cookie dough ice cream were hits as well. I'm sure you're all drooling by now imagining these delicious homemade treats, but the real story here is the size of these bad boys.

Our friend Heidi warned us of the behemoth size of the cups/cones but for some reason we all decided to throw caution to the wind and get smalls. "What's the big deal with a small?" you ask. Well, at Richardson's a small is very nearly a pint of ice cream. Even the kiddie size which we all should have gotten was probably about a large at any other ice cream place! Still, despite the size, I ate every last glorious bit of that chocolate peanut buttery goodness. And then immediately felt sick, and still do. Apparently too much of a good thing isn't a good thing. It just leads to a stomach ache and a sugar headache 12+ hours post consumption.

Nevertheless, it was a fabulous trip and a nice midweek break from the city. Oh, and I even tried my hand at the driving range. I was pretty subpar, but I can now totally understand why people go to the driving range. I can see how addicting it would be to thwack golf ball after golf ball into the night air, trying to make each stroke steadier, each arch of the ball smoother, and each hit farther reaching. It seems so soothing! Not to mention you get to reward yourself with homemade ice cream afterwards!