Brussels Sprout Adventure

You’re probably wondering what I mean by Brussels Sprout Adventure. Or maybe you’re wondering whether that’s spelled correctly, Brussels seems weird, doesn’t it? I promise this isn’t a post about “Veggie Tales” (other than this sentence, that is), although who doesn’t love a little “Dancing Cucumber” from time to time?

I didn’t used to eat Brussels sprouts. I don’t know if my granny tried to feed them to me as a child and I disliked them then, too, but as an adult, I’d never even tried them until about two years ago. I was out at dinner in North Hollywood with friends and someone mentioned the Brussels sprout appetizer was delicious. So, I decided to try it. Hint: It had bacon. It really was delicious.

Lately, I’ve been eating Brussels sprouts about once a week. I usually buy a ready-to-cook dish. I’ve even had a couple of Brussels sprout salads.

I hate tomatoes. Salsa, yum. Ketchup, okay. Pico de gallo, no problem. Tomato slices on a sandwich, yuck. Tomato by itself, blech. But I try eating tomato slices on a sandwich at least once a year to see if my opinion has changed or if I meet a tomato that suits my palate. I still don’t like tomatoes, but I know I’ll give them another shot again soon.

See, I’m not a very adventurous person, but I’m trying to open my heart and my life to choosing more adventure. I’m working to live a better story. I’m choosing to engage more with life. Each time I try something new (or again), even something I had a strongly held opinion against, it’s a little adventure. The more I say yes to life, the less I wait for details, the more my cry is “further up, further in,” the less my cry is “I’d rather stay home,” I believe more amazing, meaningful adventures are ahead. So, I’m starting a habit of adventure with little things. Odd, miniature-cabbage-looking vegetables seem like an okay place to start.

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