marinate my olives

olives are a pervasive force in my life. i love to eat them, especially green ones. they usually are such a perfect size and smooth and round in my mouth and so cool out of the fridge. i like them a little bit underripe, so that they pop a little when i eat them. i have been known to stand at the fridge, door open, and eat green olives by the jarful. i also use olive oil soap and olive oil body butter. even the word olive makes me happy, so soft and round. as an extra bonus, olives make me think of my late grandfather, who brought olives to all of our tables.

my mom made marinated olives this past weekend. the recipe was simple and called for tossing plain green and black olives with flavored and heated olive oil and then marinating them for a few hours in the fridge. post-metamorphosis, the olives glistened, dressed up and cold, in the oil and herbs. it's sometimes surprising that something so ultimate as an olive can be made even better by adding some heat and color, then some cold and time.

this weekend, i am going to marinate my own proverbial olives.

lots of intense, lovely thoughts have come to me this summer but they have been bumping around in my head like olives in a half-empty glass jar. raw, undecorated thoughts of love, change, friendship, growth, spirituality. i've been so busy that i haven't had a chance to process the things that have been happening around me and to me.

so- for the first time in probably years, i have an entire blank weekend ahead of me to marinate these thoughts and figure out how i feel about these subjects and my experiences this summer. i'm going to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling and then i'm going to walk for miles and miles and then i'm going to soak. i will lie still and then i will agitate myself just to lie still again.

i'm quite positive that my thoughts will not end up glistening and gorgeous in a pewter serving dish, but at least they will feel more sorted, prettier, better. and it might even be quiet enough to write some of them down.