Health - If You Got it You Got Everything

I, for years, had an obsessive hate/hate relationship with Brussel sprouts, but, this month, I decided that I liked them.

Why did I hate them so much? Well, it could be a long story, but it is not. When I was five years old, I came walking home from kindergarten and some boy offered my friend and I a twinkie from his grandfather's store. We followed him, of course, and were rewarded with a twinkie treat.

That light, sponge cake that contains a dollop of whipped cream inside.

I still find them yummy, but some of my friends get the dry heaves just thinking about putting one in their mouth.

I used to feel the same way about Twinkies, but... there is a small, complex story of why I hated Brussel sprouts for what felt like a million years.

The boy with the Twinkie-generous grandfather, gave me that Twinkie and I went home to lunch or supper with my parents and my mother, being the unforgiving person that she was, made the mistake of giving me a plateful of Brussel sprouts when I had just eaten a full twinkie.

Well. It was more like 5 Brussel sprouts, but it seemed like a million. I didn't eat them and she set a timer. I was warned. If I didn't eat the Brussel sprouts before the timer went off, I'd be in trouble.

As I recall, I stared at those Brussel sprouts for a long time. Long after the bell went off.

They were awful. Even worse when you were full of whipped cream and sponge cake. Those little balls of cabbage imitation.

[I used to feel the dry heaves coming on when I'd think about the story]

You know. My hubbie bought some Brussel sprouts the other day, cut them in half and put butter in the pan. He put those Brussel sprouts in the pan and cooked them in the butter until the bottom of the sprout was tan. Then, he added some water and closed the cover on the pan. Then, in a bit, he added some soy sauce, some spicy schewan sauce and some vinegar sauce.

Those Brussel sprouts tasted amazing. I just wish that my mother would see me now. I eat Brussel sprouts with a passion. She'd be so proud of me.

I was inundated by so called health foods when I was growing up.

My mother was obsessed with eating right. Eating at a certain time. Eating good stuff. As I recall, we ate things like boiled cabbage, chow mien casserole and other vegetable filled creations that were supposed to keep us all so healthy we'd never have to see a doctor again.

My sister followed in my mother's footsteps. She was also crazy about health foods.

I don't have pleasant memories of eating grape nuts cereal. Kretchmer's Wheat germ. One of the aunts had joined a health foods opportunity and had supplied us with enough vitamins to get us into the fortieth century.

We had some powdered drink mixes, some citrus fruit flavored, some carob powder. At any rate, I wasn't sold on health food. There were the little green pills that tasted like that liquid stuff you give to babies with the eye dropper. I think it was vitamin E or something. It was awful.

For as health conscious as my mother and my sister were, they died young. My mom was 61 and my sister, a mere 51.

You would have thought that they would have lived into their nineties.