I’m Never Eating Ice Cream Again

I’ll get to the title shortly…don’t you worry. But first things first.

Another short weekend almost in the books. At least as far as my quick visit home goes.


I’m currently bundled up in the St Louis airport waiting for my 1105 flight back home to Denver. Comfy…and acknowledging that if I keep traveling like I have been that I will likely become a peanut butter pretzel washed down by a warm Starbucks. And I’m ok with that.

Last night
I had 48 hours to make the most of this weekend, and I would say I was pretty successful.

I snuggled my family as much as I could.


Whether or not they liked it…furballs included.



Enjoyed a nice dinner in town with my adorable parents. (In case your wondering my arm is around the imaginary Zach. He was texting us all dinner).





And wrapped up the evening with a movie and ice cream. Unfortunately for my stomach I ate my entire serving plus half of my parents. That did nothing for my sleeping last night or my run this morning.


I am never eating ice cream again. At least not until my short term memory forgets the pain of this morning. Maybe like next week….