I spent part of December at home in Ohio, where my mother likes to remind guests, when they look at the family Christmas tree, that I had a rich, full head of hair when I was in kindergarten.

Then I tell people, “Oh, you should have seen me in first grade, though! It was like a ghost town up there!”

I missed the last two Christmases in Ohio due to a calamity I do not recall, so it was nice to get back. I had alerted my brother that as we went to our favorite restaurants, I would probably constantly and loudly make the joke, “Man, feels like I haven’t been here in years!”

Then I came home to Texas last week and took a nap. Then I picked up my mail from the neighbors. They handed me a box I was not expecting.

In the morning, I do interviews about some topic with affiliates. One of those affiliates is in Madison, Wisconsin.

So they, as some sort of unusually on-the-nose Wisconsin Christmas gift, sent me a box of cheese.

One of those cheeses is Gouda, which came in handy on New Year’s Eve. I was at an affair with some associates and found myself in front of a cheese plate.

In a situation like that, I would normally look for the most familiar cheese, an individually wrapped slice of American, for example.

This time, though, I spotted a light-ish cheese with a brown-ish rind [Attention cheese industry: Am I using the right word? Rind?]. I said, “Oh, what is that, Gouda?” and sounded like a guy who really knows his cheese.

“Let’s Gouda this thing up!” I explained, then looked at the camera because this party was taking place in a sitcom and took a bite. “Thanks, Big Radio!”

Earlier in December, a public relations contact called and said he wanted to develop some sort of “fantasy ice cream.”

He’s done this for Christmas before.

You see, he would ask what type of ice cream and what type of fix-ins would mix well together. Now that I think of it, and this really happened, he corrected me and explained the candy inside ice cream is a “mix-in,” not a “fix-in.” He was right to do it.

This is a lot of responsibility. I couldn’t just blurt something out over the phone! I needed, I explained to a guy who was trying to give me free ice cream, some time to think.

I would start striding hurriedly around the room.

“Okay, I’m just spitballin’ here, just spitballin’… what if we got some Oreos and some Kit-Kats, those are always the types of Halloween candy I hold back from kids at the door, just spitballin’ here, what if we got some Oreos and Kit-Kats and, listen to me, put them in coffee ice cream!?”

At this point, picture me leaning back in a chair with an accomplished grin on my face.

Look at that label, too. This is a guy who can offer a Christmas gift AND razz you simultaneously.

When he handed off the ice cream, I told him I’d share, but here’s the thing: the Scaia Sundae would slowly disappear on its own over a couple of days, so let’s none of us tell my friends or co-workers. This will just be our little secret, okay, internet?

The next time you’re at Milwaukee Joe’s, however, ask for a bucket of Scaia Sundae [If someone actually does that, take a picture. I’d like to see the look of puzzlement on Milwaukee Joe’s face]. A great topping is a dollop of insulin-laced whipped cream.