Fear No Onion

I thought it only fair to come out of the closet right away. Or, perhaps I should say...the pantry?

I cannot stand chopping onions. I cry like I've just seen Gone With the Wind (again) at the slightest hint of onion fumes. I, a grown woman, married and mother of two, still ask my mother to chop onions for me whenever possible.

Well, that is, I did until last Christmas. My older brother and sister-in-law are, quite possibly, two of the best gift-givers I've ever met. I imagine they have some sacred notebook where they record every minute hint or remark one makes throughout the year. I can see them perusing their notes before the launch of their holiday shopping season each year.

Or, perhaps they have a secret vault, tucked neatly behind a false wall in a linen closet, where they store their collection of gifts throughout the year. As soon as a friend of family member makes an innocent, off-hand remark that sparks a gift-inspiration, they purchase the gift, wrap it perfectly, and carefully preserve its trimmings in bubble wrap before stowing it neatly away for the remainder of the year. Perhaps they have super cool video watches (like Diego?) on which they can relay critical clues to one another as they play Sneaky Shopper.

Regardless, their stealth in gift giving far exceeds my own. How do I know this? As I quickly unwrapped my portion of our holiday package this past year, I never expected what appeared before my eyes...A lovely, pink pair of Onion Goggles.

I am not alone.

This plight of excessive sensitivity to onion vapors is not mine alone to shoulder.

How on Earth they knew this, I did not recall. (Super sneaky shopper skills, I presume.) What I did know, was that my plight was nearing an end.

From then on, I knew I would fear no onion. I could boldly dawn my pastel eye gear and prepare a meal without tears and pain. (Yes, it really does HURT me, OK?)

I love them. And I love my Onion Goggles.