Nope, still no.

Have you ever done something you wish that you didn't do?

No.  Of course YOU haven't.  So let me tell you about a time when I did.

Just so you can sympathize.  Even though you don't really know what that would be like.  So just humor me.

Okay, here we go.

So, I love food.  And wait - I mean food.  Real food.  Not quasi-food-like-substances.  Food that Michael Pollan considers food.  Food that Joel Salatin would be proud of.  Do you get me?  If no - what I'm saying is - food that God made, not food that some crazy dude made up in a lab (high fructose corn syrup, partially hydrogenated oils, TBHQ, rBST, BHT, maltodextrin, canola oil, GMO corn/soy/sugar beets/rats, whatever.).

Due to my food-loving nature, I have a mini-garden (I pretend it's a farm in my imagination) where I decided to plant the usual variety of things.  One of these things is sweet peppers.  Cool.  Fairly benign, you say.  I reply, "FOR YOU, MAYBE!!!"

You see, I like sweet peppers.  But the feeling is not mutual.  Those sweet peppers became my enemy out of the blue a little over half of a decade ago and they've never looked back.  They're like this petty vengeful teenage girl who flirts with your boyfriend just for spite.  (Proper responses to that qualm shall not be discussed here, but I can assure you that they may or may not involve an exorbitant amount of creativity.)  They're like a sick, evil little thing that pretends it's all nicey-nicey and then BAM!  Well, it's not too polite to discuss the rest.  

So I did a dumb thing.  I had this lovely sweet and sour chicken recipe, oh, isn't it LOVELY, it has some green onions and some sweet peppers, oh yes, I think I'll make it, it's so lovely, let me go out to the garden and pick some lovely ingredients for my lovely dinner.  Yes, I failed.  You see, I thought the thought you should never think.  I thought, "THIS TIME IT WILL BE DIFFERENT."

This time, the peppers won't do that to me!  No!  I grew them with my own two sweaty, dirty hands!  These are ORGANIC!  These have been lovingly been taken care of!  These little monsters are nice!  These aren't made in some factory, full of sweaty, angry, spitting people!  These are nice ones, grown in the sunshine of my very own (ratty?) backyard.  This time it will be different!!

THIS TIME WAS NOT DIFFERENT.

THIS TIME WAS EXACTLY THE SAME.

It had been nary an hour - AN HOUR - and my stomach began to speak to me.  It said, "Excuse me, person?  Yes, you up there?  Hi.  Can you just tell me something?  Would you please tell me if you may have eaten some bites of a sweet pepper?"

Then it began to shout, "Hello!  Yeah, you up there!  Yo!  Sucka!  What the what did you feed me!?"  

Five or so-ish hours later, my stomach was no longer my own.  It had turned into an exorcist, fiercefully trying to rid itself of some invisible (okay, more like green and sweet peppery-shaped) demon.  At this betrayal, I began asking the dumbest question everrrr, "Why!??"  (p.s. Yes, there are dumb questions.  Just ask ANY teacher.)  Then the other part of my brain started answering, "You know why!   Are you even kidding me right now?"

"B..b..but, but, but I...I thought..."

"No.  No ya didn't.  That's yer problem right there.  You DIDN'T think."

"But..but...I grew it and I thought it was going to be different!  Waaaaah!"

And then the back talkin' smart part of me did that one rendition of the Geico commercial where the army commander guy pretends to be a psychiatrist and throws a Kleenex box at the sniveling idiot who is laying on the couch saying why the color yellow makes him sad.

Sigh.  Well.

Yes.  We see here the definition of insanity: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.  Ahem.

Maybe next time if I drink kombucha first...?  Nah, never mind...

Anyway - peace, love and kombucha,

Ms. Daisy