I love pickles. Love them.

I noticed in my fridge yesterday that I have five open jars of pickles. All Vlasic. Two jars of regular dills. One of baby dills. One of ovals. Another of pickle relish.

I don’t know why I need two jars of regular dills. Maybe I’ll combine them tomorrow.

Yes, tomorrow. It’s a holiday. So I’m going to use part of the day to clean my kitchen. I need to get organized. Now we only have trash pick-up once-a-week. I need to get the habit of tracking what needs to go and not rely on pick-up being again in three or four days if I missed something.

Um, yeah. Back to pickles. They are my most common snack. Always have been. They used to tease me as a kid that they’d get me a gallon of ’em for Christmas.

But they have to be DILL pickles. Not sweet or sour. Not spicy or bread & butter. Last week I learned of a new destination for my bucket list. A pickle emporium. Oh, yes. My version of culinary heaven.

I think I’ll go get some baby dills right now to tide me over.

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