It's time to come clean. I have a problem. Those who know me best have known this for a long time but dare not say it aloud. I pray Mia never finds out. I am addicted to cheese. It started out innocently enough, peeling back a few slices of American after school. But then I got a whiff of the hard stuff. During the dot com explosion, it was easy. Lots of art openings, cocktail parties, trips overseas ... I know my friends feel sorry for me, perhaps talk behind my back. It's a calcium deficiency, I say. But it's an addict's excuse. When it's not around, I don't even think about it, but this morning at the Farmer's Market, I was blindsided. Caviar cream cheese!! Heavens to betsy. I snuck two samples and bought a frozen tub. Frozen because I can't be trusted. Frozen because it must go in the freezer until Thanksgiving when I can share it with my family, Wisconsin cheese eaters themselves. Frozen because if it weren't, it wouldn't have made it this far.
