I live (temporarily) near an ice cream parlor in Santa Cruz. It’s called Marianne’s, and it’s probably my favorite ice cream parlor anywhere. Fresh. Great flavors. Prompt service. The only problem is, it’s literally right across the street from my house, which means that I’m eating trough-loads of ice cream for every meal. This is bad news for me, especially in light of the article that my friend Sam sent me about porcine authors who never leave their homes and weigh 500 pounds. Tomorrow we’re moving to another location just to get away from the ice cream parlor. I’ll keep you posted.