Ode To The Olive

I've been feeling a little blue the last couple of days, so I thought I might reminisce on a happy memory. Maybe that will lift my spirits.

When I was little, I was my dad's little shadow--if he sat down to watch the news, I was right there with him. If he was working on a project, I would hold the tools. If he had a snack of sardines and buttermilk, so did I. Sardines or olives. I ate anything that he ate.

Yeah, gross. I don't know when that particular behavior of mine stopped. Probably around the time I realized I had taste buds, and that my taste buds liked sugar more than salt. But a short time ago, I had some sort of antipasto salad with olives. And guess what I learned? I love olives.

So now when I visit, not only will I drink all his coffee, I'll be eating all his olives. Love you, Dad.