Sunday, January 3, 2010
Photo for day 1 actually taken on day 2! Too much fun being had on day 1 to worry about getting the camera out.
Eating black eyed peas on January 1 is supposed to bring good luck for the year. I don't know about that. I've eaten them every January 1 since I met Shawn, even the year of Caelan's terrible birth, the year of my miscarriage/1-year cancer watch, and the year of Will's terrible pregnancy and birth. Regardless, it's fun to have the yearly tradition.
My mom tried the tradition on my sister and me a few times when we were little and I wouldn't go for it. I'd complain that black eyed peas taste like dirt. I don't recall ever actually eating dirt but they tasted what I imagined dirt to taste like. Then I met Shawn.
I don't know if he didn't think black eyed peas taste like dirt or if his mom said, "Eat them anyway. A little dirt won't hurt you." But black eyed peas on January 1 is one of their traditions so, being an agreeable young girl who wanted to impress, I ate them.
This is also how it came to be that I agreed to wade in rivers, up to my chest at some points, which were known to be the habitat of not only the bullfrogs we were looking to grab with our hands, but also water snakes (which bite) and leeches (which bite AND suck your blood.) It's also how I came to eat venison and rabbit and squirrel. And how I found myself more than once on a boat in February frozen to my core fishing for crappie. I've learned it's OK to not be so agreeable. I have sons to fill the role I once did. Although I do wonder, when they are gone, will I become agreeable again? Absolutely. But one thing I won't have to be talked into is eating black eyed peas. Apparently I've acquired a taste for dirt.