Radishes I dug up from the dirt and green olives

Ferdinand had a flow of snacks–a cut up orange, a cut up apple, “Tings”, a glass of milk, a two egg omelet, a carrot, a dish of peanuts and then we pogo sticked it down the piers; he crashed a private party and won a pat and ball and giant bubbles but was found out before he could enter the race to win a fruit basket.
“Why don’t you have a job at the Blood Bank? Then I could have won that thing.”
We came back home for chicken soup made from the bones and bits of meat still clinging to them for Ferd and hot pink radishes that I pulled up from the black dirt of the garden to chew on with a side of picholine for me.
Jonny brought home a bottle of Rose from somewhere in the Loire Valley to celebrate his brand new sky blue 1966 MG arriving in tact if not a bit scratched up, from Alabama. I can’t remember what he ate.

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