Zen Pickle

I’ve never shown such devotion to a relative of the vegetable family before. But then after writing a business plan for New Venture Initiation last night, my brain is operating at about the same brainwave capacity of rutabega.

No matter what time of the day it is, it just may be a pretty good time to push back from your desk/TV/XBox, and grab yourself a snack. Do it. You know you want to.

The outside world is constantly putting pressure on the people of today’s society to do the complete opposite of what YAB has encouraged above. Snacks are the work of the devil, they say. Diets can lead you to a happy life where photographs of you are always displayed side-by-side so onlookers can see how skinny you’ve become! (Note: results may vary.) People like Chuck Norris and Brooke Burke have crazy contraptions to help you out even if you do decide to heed YAB’s advice! We live in a health-conscious world, and snacks are not for those who conform!

But wait, there’s hope!

If you need a snack that’s delicious, nutritious, and non-fictitious, then we wish you’d consider the almighty pickle.

Yes, the pickle.

First, let’s get the “Health is Great!” side out of the way. According to the back of a jar of Mt. Olive whole dill pickles, the approximate number of calories in each Vlassical Snackable is, GASP, zero. Not a single calorie, no matter the girth of the super-sized gherkin. Mr. Norris, if you are reading, please note this fact for the record. YAB is not promoting gluttony. We’re doing are part to slim America.

The topic came to mind when I saw a co-worker washing out a large empty jar that formerly held pickles in the office kitchen yesterday. It was a modest size, some 20 ounces or so. Probably held individual spears that she ate with her sandwich at lunch. I got all nostalgic to the days when I enjoyed such a snack with such regularity. Why no more, you may ask?

Wegman’s doesn’t carry them.

Well, not exactly. They carry pickles, sure. However, they fail to package them in the best possible container – the 128 oz. massive jar of dill pickles. There’s no other way to fly. When I lived in the Random Run, Spud and I used to keep these massive vases as trophies. (Last time I checked, there’s about 12 to gawk at up on top of the cabinets.) Needless to say, that’s a lot of pickles. (Grand total calories = Still Zero.)

How does such a snack carry such great taste AND sensibility??

The year was 2000. The apartment was Governor’s Square. And the weapon of choice was a pickle. For some reason, on our way out the door, Spud ran back to his room to retrieve something. For some other reason, the pickles were left out on the countertop, inches from where I was standing. (Don’t worry folks, pickles are OH-KAY at room temp, too.) Call it spontaneity; I can’t quite explain why I pulled one spear out and winged a wicked knucklecurve of a vegetable at Spud when he exited his room and into the dimmed hallway.

And I certainly can’t explain without even looking, he caught it and fired back.

And now, your pickle of ZEN.