I am an open book. If you ask me a question than I give you an answer. Sometimes, okay a lot of times, I probably give you information that you didn’t even ask for!
I remember when I was younger I was with my Mom and someone complimented me on my shirt.
”Thanks!” I said. “I got it at the Gap for $3.99!”
“Sarah,” my Mom said, “They didn’t ask how much it cost or where you got it. They just said they liked it!”
Until then I never really thought about how much information I was giving out unintentionally. Now this random person knew I liked both the Gap AND good bargain!
I realize I talk about things I like. Did you know I like Drag Queens? Did you know I run ridiculous amounts of miles with the Team to End AIDS? How about yogurt? Did you know I used to make my own yogurt?
There is one thing I didn’t realize how much I talked about. What is it you ask? You may already know because
A. I’ve talk to you about this topic.
B. It’s the title of this blog post.
I love pickles. I have been known to drink a jar of pickle juice by choice. (Heads up, you will smell like pickles for days!) I love sour pickles, cornishon, dill pickles. I love garlic pickles, pickled tomatoes, and, my favorite, pickled garlic from Zabars. I’ll even take some garlic stuffed green olives!
How do I know I talk about it? I get sent some amazing pickle recipes, posts about pickles, and pickle restaurants from people and I don’t know how they know my love for pickles. I don’t remember telling them about it. Which, in turn, tells me that I talk about my love of pickled vegetables more than I realize.
And in case you were wondering I think a pickle bouquet would be way more desirable than a flower one. Just don’t add sweet pickles to it, they are just gross.