I bought a can of olives the other day, first time in a long time (which is weird, because it is one of my favorite recipes.) I gave them to Julian and showed him the proper way to eat them--on his fingers, naturally. And so i'd go about my kitchen business and he'd stick out his finger when he was ready for an olive, and i'd stick it on, and suddenly I was struck with a thought: Wait a second, why do they fit so easily on his fingers? I thought olives were too small for that. I know that on mine, they always break apart. They used to fit but then one day they didn't. They must have started making them smaller.
That is what i was thinking.
And then i realized that it wasn't the olives, it was me. I had actually aged since i was young, and there was a slight chance my fingers might have grown as well. What the hey?! Yeah. So why did it take a millenium for this to occur to me and why did i not recognize there's a pretty good chance Julian's fingers and my fingers are not the same size. It's like there are things in my life where i recognize and acknowledge that i am older than i used to be and with other things, time is frozen and i expect it to be the same. I'm just still a kid in so many ways, and with the olives, it kind of made me sad. It was kind of a loss of innocence, in a way, and why in the hey don't they make giant olives for adults to stick on their fingers?? Is that too much to ask? I could maybe squeeze a large black pearl on a pinky, but it's just not the same.
And if that's not a celebratory Labor Day post, I don't know what is.