It's official: I'm addicted

They call them "Drumsticks".

I don't know why. You can't play a drum with them. They don't really look like a drumstick on a chicken. Perhaps that was the first clue.

They should be known as "Devil's Food".

In the last 48 hours that I've been home from vacation, I've had to face a difficult fact: I am hopelessly addicted to Drumsticks.

It began as a summer treat. Something cold on a hot summer's night. Just a little something to munch on for dessert while sitting out on the deck after supper.

Besides, it's good for you, right? What could be more pure than vanilla ice cream covered with a thin coating of chocolate and chopped nuts? Why, eating ice cream in the summer is as American as Apple pie, Chevrolet and Motherhood.

In fact, I do believe it's a civil right, guaranteed part of the constitution's promise to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.

Suddenly, I started noticing things. Little things.

Sometimes, when I'd come home from a day at the beach, exhausted from playing in the waves and on information overload from reading a book, I didn't have the energy to fix supper just for myself.

So, I'd have a Drumstick for supper. Two or three hours later, I found myself hungry. Was it meat or chicken, fish or another healthy salad I craved?

No. . . . I wanted another Drumstick.

And so, without giving it a moment's consideration, I helped myself to another.

Sometimes, I'd wake up in the morning and, midway through my first cup of coffee, I'd find myself gazing into the freezer, considering having one for breakfast.

I'd close the freezer door quickly, and keep myself busy, trying to distract myself. Then, suddenly, it was 11 AM and I realized that I hadn't had breakfast. Well, whatever was to be done? I mean, a girl's gotta eat, right?

What's wrong with a drumstick for brunch, I'd ask myself? Almost all the food groups were there: dairy (ice cream), carbs (the cone), protein (the ice cream AND the nuts). If I grabbed an apple later, I had almost had a perfect breakfast meal!

I didn't realize anything was really wrong until last night. I had had a good but exhausting first day back to work. I came home and started to prepare supper. That's when I realized it:

WE DIDN'T HAVE ANY DRUMSTICKS IN THE FREEZER!!!!!!!!

Panic began to set in. My palms started to get sweaty. I could feel my pulse increasing. I think I was even short of breath.

I HAD to go to the store and get some. For later.

I did make it through supper, but before long, it started again. The freezer started to call to me. I made a decision to hold off until 8:30 PM. That was when I usually had dessert at the beach. I could hold off until then.

Ms. Conroy called. Said she'd be home at 8 PM. "Oh good," I said, "that's just about 30 minutes before I have my drumstick for dessert. Want one?"

She laughed and said, in a casual, off-handed, joking kind of way "Boy, you really are addicted to those things."

I could feel my face flush with shame, but in that moment, I knew she was right. This is not joke.

I am addicted to Drumsticks.

I don't know what to do. Are there 12 step programs for such addictions?

"Hi, I'm Elizabeth, and I'm addicted to Drumsticks."

Yeah, right. That would go over real well. If my bishop finds out, I could be written up on Title IV charges: Conduct unbecoming a clergy person. Breaking boundaries on meal times and menus.

I have to get some help. Quickly. There are three more Drumsticks downstairs in the freezer right now. I don't know how I'm going to make it through preparing this evening's meal.

How can I possibly be in the same kitchen knowing full well that there are two Drumsticks in the freezer?

Ms. Conroy says that I have to come to terms with the fact that summer is officially over, and that as soon as I do that, I'll be able to let go of the Drumsticks. When I can do that, she says, I'll extinguish the source of my craving.

Maybe she's right. The bright sunshine with temperatures in the mid 80's continue to give the illusion that it's still summer. And, according to the calendar, it still is. Labor Day is just the official end of the "summer vacation season."

If anyone knows how to shake this kind of addiction, please write and let me know how to do it.

This Drumstick-addiction thing is a real monkey on my back.

I just hope Ms. Conroy is right and it will all be over as soon as summer comes to an official end.

I might just become a danger to myself or others.

I suspect there's at least 10 pounds of body weight which someone has lost this summer that is somewhere, out there in the cosmos, which is looking to take up residence on my hips and already ample backside.

Wait! Never mind. I think I just found some motivation!