“Don’t be a pickle face,” my Mom used to advise me. In other words, stop looking like a sour puss. You know, get that grumpy look off your face. Cheer up, better days ahead and all that.
Alice Roosevelt Longworth, daughter of President Teddy Roosevelt apparently was speaking of Calvin Coolidge when she quipped, “He looks as though he’s been weaned on a pickle.” And she must have thought he looked downright sour.
Due to the massive sauna-like conditions that a good portion of our country is ensconced in right now, I imagine there are a lot of pickle faces out there, mine included. I do not deal with heat very well and with temperatures hovering near 100 degrees, adding in 95% humidity, I’ve been feeling and looking quite disagreeable. So just call me pickle face, I don’t care.
Despite the over-heated oven outside, cucumber plants in hubby’s garden are prolifically producing. So all of a sudden, I’m surrounded by pickles. Seriously, they’ve infiltrated a shelf in the refrigerator and they’re threatening to take over. So it’s time to take the cucumber by the…ok, just take the cucumber….slice, mix up some brine, add spices and dill, and cram them into canning jars. Hubby and I found a quick and easy recipe for refrigerator pickles that we’re going to try this weekend.
In the meantime, I’m attempting to wipe that pickled look off my face, really I am. Yes, the heat and humidity make me cranky, but I’m so very thankful for central air conditioning and iced tea. Since pickling is considered a process by which food is preserved, I guess my cool house and glass full of ice cubes actually do pickle me because they sure are preserving my body and my sanity!
Without them, I truly would be in a pickle, a sticky (no pun intended!) situation so to speak. Lately, I’ve complained to hubby (and anyone else that would listen) that I’m caught in a predicament – just like the baseball term that’s used for a rundown between bases – between a rock and a hard place. So adding to my grumpiness over the heat wave is my crankiness over my dilemma.
And before I turn really sour, I need to just get over it! Get my lethargic self up and shake it off. Maybe I need to go play a game of pickleball, something I vaguely remembering my kids playing in PE classes in their elementary school in the Pacific Northwest.
Nah, playing pickleball there you only got wet from the misty rain when you ventured outdoors, not from drippy humidity and sweat. Ah, the Pacific Northwest….thoughts of cool summers and rain…..low humidity if any…..and pickled asparagus (something I cannot find in stores here).
Today, Chapter 7, Page 22, in my Opportunity book, while I marinate in humidity, soak in my quandary, and preserve my fond memories of life once lived in a cooler part of the country, I feel better already!