"They Say I'm Different"

 fig. a:  this year's peas

OK, we've all got our dark secrets, our skeletons in the closet, right? Well, I hate to be the one to "out" Michelle, but I've got two words for you, dear reader: fresh peas. She'll tell you all about it later today, I'm sure, but it all has to do with some childhood memories of hers, or something. In any case, Michelle has been known to eat fresh peas by the proverbial bushelful, but this year, with access to wholesale produce through Les Chèvres, she actually acquired something close to a bushelful (check out the size of the crate in the background of the photo above!). Maybe it's a good thing that her birthday is in March, because if it was in June, at the height of the fresh peas season around here, I'm sure that'd be all she'd ask for, and things might get out of hand. Anyway, I'm not complaining at all, I just hope that they last long enough that we actually get to cook some this time around. I'm thinking some kind of a pasta dish with fresh peas...

aj

Believe it or not, the peas are almost gone. I have had the crate for 2 days, eaten an insane amount of them raw, eaten them for dinner, passed on a bagful to my mom, shelled a few for the freezer, and finally, this morning, I felt the first pangs of a stomach ache. With these pangs comes peace, for I can now assure myself that I took full advantage of the too short pea season, that I lived life to the fullest, that I have won.

m