I'm growing up. . .

I am quite strange. I embrace this. I have so many hang-ups that my hang-ups have hang-ups. you know what I mean?? Like I can't stand for anyone to touch my pinky toe. I don't know why. I also cannot let the volume on anything be on the number 13. It's just the way I am. But food. Now that is where my true crazy lies.

We have this friend, Peggy. She started out as Mimi's friend. And over time, she has become family. We always say that she is really my mother because we have the same crazy food issues. And we both know that you can, in fact, not like a food - even if you have never tasted it. (although, with my children, I am a "do as I say, not as I do" kind of gal when it comes to trying new food. I am trying not to make them weird, too). Guacamole is like that. We both are positive that we do not like it. Period. And if either one of us is faced with a food that we are not sure about, we call each other to check before we eat it.

Peggy: Do we like Carrot Souffle?
Me: NO

Me: Do we like Zucchini Bread?
Peggy: Ewww, NO!

Peggy: Do we like lamb?
Me: Absolutely not!
It is a good system. It is nice to have someone out there who understands this level of crazy.

I also do not like seafood. None of it. The smell, the taste, the appearance. Nope. Not for me. Sometimes I fib and tell people I am allergic because I do not want them to do that whole, "You should taste this! You would love it! It is delicious!" thing on me. (And the allergy fib? Our little secret, OK? I don't want you to go blabbing and ruin my little game! )

I also cannot handle the discussion of anything bordering on gross while eating. My family has accepted this, and my whole life, dinner conversations have been adjusted accordingly. I also do not like it when people suggest that a certain food looks like something else. I used to love those little oranges that are sometimes on salad bars, Mandarin Oranges, I think they are called. Until one time I was eating them, and my dear husband dangled one over his mouth and said, "It's just like swallowing little goldfish, huh?" I have not eaten one since. Or my precious children. They call spaghetti noodles "worms." So since, well, they began talking, I always cook ruffles pasta to go with my spaghetti sauce. They call them worms the whole time we are eating, and I cannot handle it. I know. I am supposed to be a grown up, right? Oh, hush and let me eat my ruffles in peace, would you?

And I am totally a power of suggestion sort of person. Once I have been eating something that seems OK and then I find out what it was, I am disgusted. One time, these friends wanted me to taste Venison. And I was all uh, no, that is BAMBI. So I always refused. Then one night, they were all, have some "Cube Steak." And I truly did not like it AT ALL, but my Momma raised me to be polite. So when they asked me, I said it was good. Then they were all "You ate Bambi! You at Bambi!" And I never ate supper with them again! (Another reason that Peggy and I are so tight - my own grandmother played this same trick on her. Peggy doesn't eat "roast" at Mimi's anymore, either.)

And I do not enjoy going to a BBQ place that has pictures of smiling pigs all over the place. Duh. A PIG is not going to be happy and smiling at a rib joint.

The point is, I am very strange and somewhat immature in my food choice and food consumption. I could go on. . And there is no rhyme or reason to my weirdness.

But maybe I am changing - for the better. . .
I enjoy a good Chinese Buffet every now and then. But I would never eat there alone. I need David to tell me what things are OR if he does not know, they he is my official taster. Sometimes things aren't labeled OR are labeled wrong. Well, there was this thing that I tried at a place at Ft. Polk. I thought it was yummy even though I had no clue what was in it. So once I tried it, I always picked that whenever we were at a Chinese Buffet place.

It was cute. It sort of looked like a tasty flower. And it had a creamy cheesy stuffing in it. It was tasty. I sometimes ate 2 or even 3 of those babies. Did I know what they were? No. Did I ever question it? Well, initially I asked David, and he said he did not know. But they were good, so I quit wondering.

Well, Daddy, David, Jessa, Spencer, and I went to a Chinese Buffet. And lo and behold, there were my tasty, fried Chinese flowers!


Photo Courtesy Of: http://www.starportfoods.com/Menu_Concept.htm

Mmmm! But wait, what's this? The label above the container holding my beloved tasty morsels had the words "Crab Rangoon" written on it. WHAT?! CRAB?! That is seafood. But I don't eat seafood. I don't eat crab.

So my first instinct was to skip them. And I did. I went to the other areas. But I kept thinking about them. I even made several drive-bys and stared longingly at them. I got my rice. I stalked the flowers. I found a Spring Roll. I glanced at the flowers. And the more I thought about it, I finally decided that I was going to get them anyway. After all, I do like them. They are tasty. Maybe I can eat crab. Maybe I can overlook my "rules" and "issues" and "hang-ups." So I did. And I did not even call Peggy first. I just enjoyed the delicious edible flowers.

(I can eat them and enjoy them, but I don't have to call them crab, do I?)