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My Easter basket always contained a can of ripe olives.

Sure, I was a big fan of the chocolate bunny (hollow or solid), the peeps, malted-milk-ball robin eggs the and jelly beans.  I loved the egg hunt around the house for real, brightly dyed, hard-boiled eggs.  We would usually find almost all of them, which only became problematic a few days later.  But the ripe olives were my favorite Easter treat.  At the big Easter family dinner, there might be black olives in the relish tray along with the carrot and celery sticks;  however I could really only eat five of those in good conscience (one stuck on the end of each finger), since they were for all the guests.  But that was OK — I had a can of my own to eat later.  I think I ate the olives and peeps in separate sittings.

Santa never got the tip about how much I liked olives.  He could have saved the elves a lot of toy-building (and skipped the pink turtleneck) by just leaving me a case of pitted mediums under the tree.  Holiday hindsight = 20/20.

Wishing you a basketful of whatever makes you happy!  I’ll offer tulips for a start.

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