(Turn up your volume.)
I'm stalking sweetness by sound. The neighborhood ice-cream truck plays Calypso-styled music, which would normally annoy me, but which works as a surprisingly nice complement to the evening birdsong. I stand in my driveway, waiting to see if it will make its way to my street. The few times it drove by last year I was too shy to run out to it since I had no kids in tow. This summer I'm determined to get a photo and a treat. After all, what good is being an adult with your own money if you can't buy ice cream with it?