The revenge of José

Since some of you have an emotional investment in José Jalapeño, I thought it would be considerate of me to finish his story. You'll thank me later, perhaps.

(You can read about him here. Also click here, to see his adorable baby pictures.)

José had been looking terribly delicious lately. My oldest boy wanted the honor of picking him. Really, I wanted to pick him, but you know how it goes when you're a mom.


He did a great job.

With José in hand, we realized just how small he was.

No problem, my youngest boy wanted to wield the kitchen shear too. I can't blame him. This was a ton of fun (keep in mind that we don't have a television).

With two hands on the weapon, a three-year-old boy's assault on the jalapeño plant began.

He aimed for the largest one,


and missed.

The tiniest one was set free instead and went bouncing across the room.

The child was determined. It appeared that he didn't even notice his first victim and pressed on towards his goal. It took a few minutes, but he finally returned victorious to the kitchen.

They smelled as amazing as they looked (the jalapeños, not my boys).


I chopped them up, thinking I would need to remember that my hands would be like fire to any mucous membrane for the rest of the day. Specifically, I wondered how I would safely change the baby's diaper.

But there it was, ready for the broiler.


Don't look at my ugly plate, I have much more handsome ones but they can't go in the oven. Well, actually they could, but it might be exciting in a bad sort of way.

Into the broiler it went.

And then? I don't even want to say it, but you know it's true.

I touched my eye.

My left eye. The one I need to make an appointment for because I think my tear duct is blocked. For real.

I didn't realize it for a few microseconds, of course. I grabbed my eye and quite honestly don't remember what I said, but my husband stood there staring at me like I was an alien. I quickly turned the broiler off because gosh darn it I am not going to ruin these chips! And went racing for the bathroom sink and ran lots of cold water into my poor eye that cannot wet itself.

It was like strolling down memory lane, except in a very painful way. Don't worry, you're coming with.

The last time I had ice-cold water running over my eyes, it was in my previous life in the exciting world of biotech.

I had isopropyl alcohol that contained human brain DNA splash all over my face. It was in my eyes, up my nose and in my mouth. It's true, people, I swear. The doctor at the walk-in-clinic told me I won his strange and unusual case for the day, hands down. And believe me, his day was nowhere near over.

Those of you who don't know me in real life, I truly am a walking disaster-waiting-to-happen. I don't want to believe in the theory of parallel universes. I can only imagine the kind of destruction I may have caused by now, although the theory fascinates me to no end.

After José had his way with me, I was pleasantly surprised to find that my eye didn't hurt. It was just nice and warm, in a numb kind of way.

I went back and got the broiler going.


You know what, honestly? Totally worth all the drama.

Amazing.

I grew a jalapeño (a bunch of them actually), in my house, during our frozen winter, and I ate it. I did share with my husband which might even be a bigger miracle.

Truly, I am a rebel if there ever was one.


But after what I went through to do it, I really turned the event into an indulgence. Now that was pure perfection.