For a man on an eternal diet, even the slightest hint of ice cream equals the sound of a Heavenly choir.  So when my boys reminded me of our annual tradition of angel food cake, strawberries, and ice cream on International Women’s Day, my heart skipped a beat.  You see, my beautiful wife and the only woman in our family loves that dessert and I love my wife.  Plus, I love ice cream.  So win, win, win all the way around.

On the way home, I picked up the goodies for dessert.  Stopping in the frozen food aisle, I was reminded of my diet.  So I picked up gelato, instead of ice cream, just a tad healthier and a little win for the dieting dad.

Preparing to scoop out the gelato to place on the cake and strawberries, I grabbed the metal ice cream scoop.  I served out the portions, we wished Charlene “Happy International Women’s Day” and I stared at the metal ice cream scoop.  There looking back at me, looking back at the man on the never ending diet, was temptation.  A dollop of gelato perched upon the scoop.  Too much to be washed off.  Just enough for my wanting belly.

I brought the scoop to my mouth and I was met with cold.  Not just a normal cold, but extreme cold.  Extreme cold of the painful sort.  The kind that you imagine only when you stick your tongue to a frozen flagpole.  Yes, that kind of extreme and painful cold.  Only this time, it was inside my mouth.  The gelato’s wonderful taste slid across my tongue, even as I peeled the frozen scoop off inside of my upper lip.  It hurt bad.  Real bad, but given the gelato and its sinfully smooth taste, bad never hurt so good.