"Let's just move here and work in a snowball shop..."

A friend and I were sitting around last night (or this morning, depending on how you look at it) discussing how time was flying by. I can't really say that this experience has gone by fast, because it feels like we've been here forever, but at the same time, it seems to suddenly be ending. So, we'd been having a day of premature nostalgia, over snowballs.

Pause for an explanation of the glory that is a snowball: imagine childhood, dipped in sunshine and sprinkled with deliciousness, and you've got an idea. More specifically though, they're something like a snowcone, but with smoother ice, and Ms. Norma, the owner of Queen of the Ball, will stuff hers with ice cream. She's ridiculous flavors, like wedding cake and Georgia peach, and the shop's decor only adds to the charm. I'm sad we never got around to trying one of these before today, but I'm sure my waistline thanks me. I'll have to go back and visit Ms. Norma again though.

Queen of the Ball Snowball Stand

I've digressed completely off topic. Originally I was going to write about how much I'm going to miss this place, and Candace and my plans to move here and skip the whole college degree thing. But, there are dozens of reasons that won't work, and premature nostalgia is a bit sappier than I'm into at the moment. So, for now, I'll just focus on finding another day to get a snowball...