- These pickles are a lovely shade of green.
- Their flavour is bright and tart, a surprisingly satisfying experience when I am peckish but shouldn't be eating potato chips.
- I am eating these pickles right now while I write this list, and they don't make my keyboard greasy or sticky.
- I almost never become suspicious of pickles. Sour cream, old jam, leaky bottles of mustard: these all raise questions for me, make me wonder about their integrity. Pickles feel safe and clean held in a seeming stasis in their brine.
- Their name, pickles, is also a description of how they are made. It is what they are. Pickles have integrity up the yin yang.
- Say "polski ogórki". Pohl-skee oh-gohr-kee. You simply have to love eating something that is that fun to hear and say.
- The pickles bump the glass with a heavy-yet-soft, distant staccato when I sway the jar from side to side through the air.
- These are the same pickles I have eaten for decades. I ate them as a child, and I bought them as cheap snacks in my early twenties when I sometimes had only a dollar a day left over for entertainment. When I eat them now, they are one of the few threads of my life that knit back coherently through all the rest.
- I am a secret pickle juice drinker. The prospect seems impossible until you tip the jar just enough for the juice to rush to the back of your throat. It is brilliant and almost medicinal, an antidote, a therapeutic revelation.
When I was about ten and my brother was about four, we were supposed to go stay on my cousins' farm for a week during the summer. I was thrilled to go, because the farm meant freedom to a city kid who always had to respect the boundaries of lawns and fences and busy streets and other people's parents. Out there, we could dig and run and climb and hide out and not see an adult for hours on end. It felt savage and powerful to even imagine it.Read More
- I have rediscovered the pleasure of good tea in the mid-afternoon. I almost prefer it to a good nap.
- This beautiful stretch of heat and sun that almost feels like mid-summer in September and has just a touch of coolness around the edges should be how the weather is always.
- There is this crow sitting in a tree near my window, and I've actually learned to recognize his voice over the last few months. I feel like he needs a name.
- I have lost my fear of butter, thanks to Kate, and my life is now literally richer for it.
- I gave myself a fresh haircut, and I feel so much brighter. It's incredible what chopping an inch off can achieve.
Wage a battle against embitterment and take part in Grace in Small Things.