Nothing Tastes Worse Than Split Pea Soup


When I was about seven years old, my mom made split pea soup for dinner.  I would not eat it. I wouldn't even taste it. I sat at that dinner table for hours, not being allowed to leave until I at least sampled it.  When I finally fell asleep with my forehead flat on the table, my dad carried me off to bed. I suspect I had nightmares all night about that soup, because to this day, I  have hard feelings toward,  no stomach for, and certainly no taste for, this loathsome soup. 

And although I still have never tasted it,  I'm okay with that. 
Because I don't think anything good comes when you split peas up.

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