That time of the year will soon be over. I did not put a single cucumber in a jar. Last year I had the best little dill pickles ever. My girls used to hide these pickles under the bed from each other. They were afraid that they would all be gone and they would not get anymore. The one's I had last year were a hit with everyone. There are peppers and tomatoes in jars. There just aren't any new pickles. The great little dill pickles. My little brother loved them. When he tells you he loves them he means it. Oh, except I asked him if I looked fifty a few minutes ago and he lied, I think, because he the said what do you want me to say yeah, you do look 50. Maybe he doesn't like my pickles that much. No, that is not it he did tell me last Thanksgiving my dressing was too runny. He is brutally honest. He does everything better than anyone else. That is just typical male to me. I over look him kinda. More times than not, my feelings are a tad hurt, but he's my brother. Unconditional is how I love him.
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