13 December 2004

Olives - and Pickles!!

I didn't used to like olives. No big deal, just didn't like them. Not on pizza, not in salads, nor drinks. I had a "no olives, no thank you" policy. But times change and tastes change. What changed my taste for olives was a production of Blithe Spirit I did. In the first scene, the Bradmans have been invited to dinner at the Condomines' house and we're sitting there swilling Martinis and making small talk. (I was playing Violet Bradman.) Our Martinis were Martini glasses filled with water with an olive dropped in (of course, because very, very few theater companies are silly enough to let actors drink real booze on stage).

Anyway, I figured that Violet was the sort of woman who would stick her fingers in her drink, pull out the olive, eat it, and then lick her fingers, and so For the Sake of My Art, I did. And by the time the show opened, not only could I nibble at that olive without making a face, I actually grew to really like them. And just like watching Ghostbusters makes me crave Twinkies (ick), doing Blithe Spirit made crave a real Martini. You know, Gin and Vermouth rather than tepid water with a hint of olive juice. Anyway, David and I went out to dinner with friends not long after BS closed, I ordered a Martini, and the rest is history. I'm not much of a drinker, but I do enjoy a well-made Martini, preferably with two or three olives.

Which brings us to the present. When meetings are held at my office we usually order a deli tray from Sniders Market. Their deli trays include really good kosher dill slices and both black olives and large green olives stuffed with pimento. (No Martinis, of course, it is the office.) Once the meeting people have gone back into the conference room, the leftovers are open to the staff, so without having to sit through the meeting, I got to cruise the olives and pickles. Yeah, I made a sammich, too, but my real goal was those little green beauties. So I just had eight of 'em. Life is good.

And speaking of the leftovers, whoever is sitting at the front desk when they become public property sends out an e-mail saying so. Our engineers are well paid, but they still respond to free food announcements like college freshmen. I counted once after I hit the send button and it was only fifteen seconds before someone got to the leftovers. Someone who doesn't even work on the same floor I do. (Name withheld to protect me from the sort of retribution that engineers dream up.)

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