Every person has their own Achilles Heel, for instance: Superman has Kryptonite, our President has the English language, and mine...well mine is a pickle. I hate pickles with a passion. And it seems the entire restaurant industry purposely tries to ruin my sandwiches by placing pickles on my plate. I cannot stand when pickle juice spills onto my fries or even worse when my perfectly undefendable and innocent bun is subjugated to pickle juice as it runs over and is forced to soak it up (it is a bun's natural hospitality and the pickle juice fully knows it.!)
So what do you think the VOR made today? That's right Pickles, seven pints of them! (she already gave one away)
I have pretty much avoided going inside today. I mowed and trimmed the grass, I even tied my tomato plants, picked blackberries, weeded the melon patch, and even thought of washing the van. Do you think she looked outside the window this morning and thought how can I motivate him to do the yard's bidding? Hmmm...if I made pickles I bet he would do it. I do not call her the Voice of Reason for nothin'.