“I can’t pucker my lips”, Benny wails, lips stretching and twitching in his attempt

“Benny!” declares Davy, “If you can’t pucker your lips you’re not going to be able to get a girlfriend!”

For the record I did not teach them that. And Benny will not have any problems getting a girlfriend, despite not being able to make kissing noises to save his life.

Because he eats anything a girl puts before him.

Even green olive soup.

And Benny hates olives.


I first tasted green olive soup on a cold, snow driven night in Minnesota, sitting across from my friend, Charissa.






The window let in the glow of the street lamps and we talked about how life is messy and drank tea. We also had cups filled with green olive soup and I decided to fall in love with it, since it gave me warm fuzzy feelings and tasted delicious.

I used to hate olives.

And then one day I said to myself,

 “Esta, stop this childish nonsense”

That year I forced olives into my mouth whenever I could and told myself they were good.

And finally I started to believe myself. Which is fortunate, since otherwise I would have never ordered green olive soup and would have missed falling in love.

Well today, I took a large test, which is supposed to tell me if I have any chance at passing the national nursing exam after graduation. It was mildly stressful.

Afterword, as a way to celebrate, I decided to make my own Green Olive Soup.

 Lydia helped me.

It turned out just right, creamy and olivey, and I was to tickled.

I served it for supper since the parents were gone. I found out brothers don’t like green olive soup like sisters do. But they all ate it like men, which is to say they finished their bowels with only moderate nose wiggles and gagging. Robert even said it was good.

I feel so artsy and domestic.

 I mean, I just made Green Olive Soup.

Me, the girl whose favorite food is fried potatoes over a camp fire, the more charcoal the better.

 Either I’m becoming city-fied or I’m growing up.