I confess, I grew up moving the peas around my plate so it appeared like they had disappeared--likely by magic. And there were times I fed them under the table to Kinky, my cocker spaniel. Even my father's coaxing with "Eat your peas, they'll make you smell good," had absolutely no affect on my dislike for those little round green things that wouldn't sit nicely on the fork as it moved toward my mouth. There was the Thanksgiving dinner that my Grandpa made me sit through desert until I ate those little stinkers. It was me versus the pea. Oh ick.
But now at the age of 56, frozen peas have found their way back to my heart --or should I say foot--in the form of ice packs. I have two large bags of generic peas in the freezer at the ready --anytime I need a cold pack for an injury--like right this very minute. Tuesday I broke my ankle while taking my daily exercise on the new sidewalk at the corner of Third Street and Daniels Way in front of Ivy Tech. (I've always heard exercise will kill you, but that's a discussion for another day.)
I couldn't wait to get back from the doc to grab those bags of instant pain killer. No muss. No fuss. No drippy bags and towels or having to make numerous hops to the freezer. My pea friends conform nicely to my foot and last for what seems like hours. Best of all, they numb the ouchy.
While one bag's on the foot, the other's in the freezer waiting for its turn. The swap can go on for days, weeks or months and and those little things can reinvent themselves for new injured body parts. These actual bags of peas were originally purchased in 2006 for my friend's nose job and then his oral surgery. Noses. Gums. Ankles. Are these multi tasking peas, or what? No freezer or first aid kit's complete without them.
