And loved my cellophane-wrapped subjects all the same.

So, I'll say it up front. When I began to ruminate about this week's topic, I started having a mental block about what I was going to write about. If you think I'm about to say it's because I don't eat things that I shouldn't...

EHHHH. That, by the way, was the noise that plays on Jeopardy when a contestant answers incorrectly.

The truth is that if you've known me for at least the past few years, you'll know that I'm a bit of an ex-junk food junkie. And by a bit, I mean that I was the Queen. However, I borrowed some Communist principles and loved my cellophane-wrapped subjects all the same. So it's hard to say whether I had a more feverish affair with M&Ms, cookies, or...well. I -can- say it wasn't grapes, though I agree that they are amazing.

In my now reformed state, I still indulge once in a while. Usually on roadtrips — it's just the nature of the beast. Okay, or when I have a Starburst blackout and do a slow-motion Matrix dive over Alex to make it to the jar in time.

But mostly, I try (key word there) to only indulge in decadent bursts of sugar and butter when it's tied to an experience, like sharing drinks, dinner, and dessert with friends, or trying out some locally famous mini cupcakes.

I'd like to end by stating that there is, I think, one particular thing that I would describe as my Kryptonite. When it is in my general vicinity, no man, woman, child, or wombat is safe unless I'm focusing ever fiber in my being on acting naturally. Even writing about it, I'm starting to twitch nervously.

Peanut butter cup ice cream.

YUM.