If someone were to ask if there were any foodies in the house, I would definitely raise my hand. Most likely, I'd shoot it straight up into the air, wiggling my fingers like an over eager grammar school kid who wants the teacher to call on her. Really, I wouldn't be able to help it - because I'd just be too excited.
One of my jobs as a kid was to go outside before dinner, pick a fresh head of lettuce from the garden and help to make the salad. I hated this job. It was dark. There were slugs. It was dirty. Salad also meant lots of other vegetables were coming my way, like carrots or cucumbers and the worst - beets - all from the garden as well. For all my complaining and eye rolling, I am forever indebted to my mom's green thumb. She was and still is forever outdoors, planting something beautiful or delicious. I know now what a gift this was, but back then, I was just glad if my sister Lisa tagged along to help. (That's her in the background, with the salad tongs.)
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