Green Balls of Fire

A long time ago, after just moving to a new city to find a job and get out of the north for a bit, I ended up living with my sister and her husband for a few months.

Ok, ok, so a few months turned into three years, I’ll admit it. But they were the BEST THREE YEARS OF THEIR LIVES, right? Right? I eventually got the hint that it was time to move on when they presented me with a ‘bathroom in a box’ for Christmas. At first I was like, “what the hell am I supposed to do with a bathmat? I use yours! Oh…wait…”

Anyhow, one of the perks of living there was that I had dinner made for every night. EVERY NIGHT. And I’m not talking macaroni and cheese…I’m talking like home-grown garlic-stuffed whatever’s with a side of salad pulled fresh from the garden.

Tangent: so, all my siblings have talent. My one sister got my gramma’s ability to cook. And by cook, I mean without recipes. I mean, they are having goose for Christmas dinner. GOOSE. Who does that?

My brother, other than being the tallest teddy bear I know, has this crazy knack for nachos. You know why? He layers. LAYERS! And the nachos are just muy bien. My other sister got a very green thumb and could probably grow turkeys if she really wanted to. My talent is eating, so I guess you could say I’m very, very lucky.

ANYHOW, so, I’m eating all my sister’s homegrown food and home-growing myself. When I say I eat – I mean it. It’s all good, right? I mean, how could you complain?

Except they love brussels sprouts. Love, love, love brussels sprouts.

This is where I gag.

I don’t know what it is about those small greenish balls of vermin, but there is just something about them that is SO not appealing. But, who am I not to eat them? I mean, I live in their house, they drive me around, they do my laundry, they make me dinner…so I choke them down. Three times a week, I choke those fuckers down.

And then one day my brother-in-law catches me.

Him: “What are you doing?”

Me (trying not to puke): “Mmmm..these are delicious..”

Him: "RedKap, do you not like brussels sprouts?”

Me: “Uhm…no.”

Him: “EAT THEM ANYWAYS, YOU IDIOT!”

OK, so that last bit didn’t really happen. He was all “oh my goodness! You don’t have to eat them!” And I was all “but you make me dinner and let me live here and I didn’t want to say anything!”

To make a long story even longer, they got the brussels sprouts, I got something else. Oh shut up…I am not spoiled.

Anyways, as you know I moved into my mother’s about a month ago. We’ve eaten brussels sprouts five times since I’ve moved in.

I’m not saying a word.