Chances are if you were to drive by any place that looks like this, it would be a good idea to stop.
And if the nachos have faces, you should also plan to have dinner.
True love. Myself and that guy in the background of course. I don't know that cup looking guy. Cool hair though.
I want her job. It could either make me hate dipped ice cream cones, or make me enjoy every minute of becoming an ice cream stuffed balloon. Case in point: that cone in my hand is a size Small. And still its the size of Roman. Seriously. No camera perspective tricks here. My ice cream could eat Roman. Which is why I attacked it of course. I was protecting my cubs.
This is Jack. In most instances that's all you need to know. But I'll go ahead and also tell you that he's my father-in-law. Jack grew up a stone's throw from the Dairy Dip (well only if you have a really good arm, I just wanted to say that cause it sounds so Nashville, and I like to particularly sound Nashvillish when I talk about or to Jack). He worked at the Dairy Dip when he was 13. It hasn't changed much. Also. Don't tell him what to order. Getting the extra large Strawberry Dip is a right reserved for former employees I think.
Malts and Floats. Serious. Business. This is not fun stuff.
Who is that Man? And why did we buy him ice cream?
Roman will be offering a workshop on how to eat ice cream in 90+ degrees. I could not do that because I made a bigger mess than Roman.
Lots of love from Sweet Nashville.
Wish you were here.
If you are, venture over to Charlotte Avenue and make a big mess of yourself.
xo, Anna & family