I'm not sure how it happened but sometime between hither and tither, I have become a Moose Track ice cream addict.
There, I said it.
I have always been a sweets person, but somehow I reined in my dessert consumption in more recent years where that sort of food meant less and less to me.
Maybe it was because I got sugar out of my system and got a little too smug about being a healthy eater.
"Dessert" no longer meant chocolate cake with thick icing or pie or candy or cookies or doughnuts - it was fruit. That stuff that's good for you.
You know - nature's candy.
I'd eat apples, oranges, strawberries, blueberries, bananas, grapes.
I even learned to love watermelon and honeydew - two fruits that used to make me wince at the very suggestion of ingestion.
Yes, I gave up preparing "single servings" of no-bake cookies in moments of I-need-a-sugar fix.
I could handle it. Even be moderately happy.
It never bothered me that Better Half was an ice cream junkie.
I'd buy him his ice cream - chocolate peanut butter cup.
I'd watch him eat his ice cream - two to three cones a night, an admission among friends, family and acquaintances that still elevates him to a kind of "oh, my!" celebrity status. Three cones!! Wow!!
But I never had great interest in ice cream.
Sure, I'd buy some rainbow sherbet for myself now and again, but after a few bites, I'd lose interest, and it ultimately fell victim to freezer burn and that would be the end of that.
But then it happened.
Somehow I tried Moose Tracks ice cream - the Mayfield brand I can only find at Riesbeck's (shameful plug here) - and now I can't get through a day without it.
It's as if my tastebuds reawakened after a Rip Van Winkle slumber to realize ice cream is good. Very good. Especially Moose Tracks, which, by the way, is vanilla ice cream with peanut butter cups swirled with moose tracks fudge.
Oh, that's good eatin', Clark.
A scoop salute to the creator of it.
The ice cream has a very short shelf life in the Kiaski household.
Let's just say there no's danger of the expiration date not being honored.
Better Half and I have to go on his and her ice cream runs together now, alarmed when the inventory of our ice cream brand and flavor is low.
Better Half has no shame in eating three cones openly.
Me? I still feel as if I should shut the door and draw the drapes.
Sometimes it's cones, but more often than not, I just eat Moose Tracks straight from the carton. My carton.
I grab a spoon and have at it.
Ice cream, ice cream, we all scream for ice cream.
But some of us are hot on the trail of moose tracks.
(Kiaski, a resident of Steubenville, is a staff columnist and features writer for the Herald-Star and The Weirton Daily Times and community editor for the Herald-Star. She can be contacted at firstname.lastname@example.org.)