Bell Peppers

I used to love bell peppers. I would get them on my sub, chop them up in a salad, dip them in ranch. However, I have never been able to wrap my head around the idea of "stuffed peppers." Something about that concept just doesn't sit well with me. My stomach is literally lurching just thinking about it. Eww.

My love for peppers ended circa Spring Break 2009. We decided to go to the beach as a whole entire family and spend the whole entire week in one house as a whole entire family. I'm sure you're starting to realize that probably wasn't the best idea. I should pause to let it sink in that whole entire family includes the following: me, Hank, sister 1, sister 2, brother-in-law 1, brother-in-law 2, mom, dad, brother-in-law 2's mom, nephew, niece 1, niece 2, step-niece 1, and step-niece 2. Oh, and the nephew/niece pair? They brought friends. Yeah, let that settle for a moment.

Anyway, this blog is about bell pepper, not about my inability to spend an entire week with my whole entire family + 2. We went to eat at Ultimate California Pizza, which of course made my sweet husband, the pizza lover, extremely happy. We got our usual, a pizza (light on the sauce on my side) with pepperoni, mushrooms, and bell pepper. It was divine. Really, it was.

We left the restaurant to head to play laser tag (something my husband swears he will never participate in again as long as he lives). En route to laser tag, he sneezed a ginormous sneeze. Then he immediately began screaming and took both hands off the steering wheel. Yep, he was driving.

I grabbed the wheel and tried to talk him through the pain while keeping my eyes on the road. His hands were on the side of his face and he was screaming in pain, and, I kid you not, an entire bell pepper strip (think Subway), was coming out of his nose. Once he got it out, his eyes watered for probably 30 minutes or more, and then he was fine.

The moral of the story: bell peppers don't come in my house. They remind me of snot and boogers and all things nostril.