I Ate It.

And it was good. I ain't even gonna lie.

A girlfriend of mine was over for lunch and I chopped her up some yellow and green peppers from the garden for her salad. She found out I didn't eat peppers. When she deduced that I had never actually tasted a pepper before (apparently the lingering contamination of what you pick off of pizza doesn't count), she made it her mission to get me to eat them, but acquiesced to allow me to drown the raw slices in ranch dressing.

I can't believe it, but I was actually afraid. It's a strange feeling to be so afraid of a food that's benign. It's not like I was going to chomp down on a hissing cockroach. This was only a pepper. A stinky, fowl smelling, down right ugly pepper, but still only a pepper. I promise you I must have looked like the boy eating new food when he scrunches his nose, takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and surreptitiously bites off a smaller piece than would constitute the actual ingestion of the item.

The yellow pepper was actually good! It didn't quite make me want to sass my granny, but it was better than a sharp stick in the eye. The green pepper, however, tasted like tushy. Tushy and lighter fluid. Never again. I'd rather bury myself in sand and have a kid stand over me wiggling multiple loose teeth than get near another one of those again.

I'm proud. I ate new food that I grew in my own garden. Maybe I should add my own spot on the sidebar underneath the boy's and the girl's since they've remained pretty much stagnant in their eating patterns here recently.

The morning comes early. Sweet gardening dreams.