homemade pickles
I secretly (or maybe not so secretly) really enjoy pickles. There is something about the crunchiness and the saltiness that really pleases my palate. As a kid I would always get a kids hamburger meal at McDonalds with “just pickles.” My brother Nathan doesn’t like pickles. Cooper doesn’t like pickles. My mom likes pickles…maybe that is where I get it. Yes, I thoroughly enjoy them. If you ever get a sandwich and don’t want the pickle on the side…I will eat it! Thus, I take this moment to salute the pickle.
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Last night was a bit lame (and I feel like a doofus). Two of the remaining gals from an office in Palo Alto had planned drinks after their last day at work…not a lot of people were on the evite list so I knew it wasn’t going to be a big deal, but because I had talked to one of the girls about meeting up to get drinks, I assumed that they were still planning on doing something and I felt like I should say my goodbyes. After confirming with one of the gals a few hours before we were to meet, Cooper and I made the trek which was far enough away that it wasn’t too bad, but time consuming enough that it ate up a good portion of the night (all while Cooper really needed to be working on some albums). We got there about 20 minutes late, but that wasn’t a big deal because the rest of the party had not yet arrived. We ordered some delectable beer and decided to wait a little while longer. We waited, and waited. Our stomachs began to talk louder than my little voice can carry. Finally after about an hour we decided to get a table and eat dinner. To make a long story semi short…they never showed. Not a single soul who was invited showed. Wahh wahhhh wahhhhhhhh. Cooper and I ended up having a really good time together (thank goodness he was there with me!), but I did feel a little foolish. I felt like I did when I was in elementary school and my friend had a costume birthday party…everyone else was dressed in elaborate costumes, but I forgot and was wearing just my silly little white sweat pants and white sweat shirt (probably with jelly shoes tied with florescent colored shoestrings). Yup, it was a lame night.
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In the words of my one and only favorite niece, Amelia: “Hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi, hi.”
Amelia’s lunch hour 10.20.2006