
vintageozarks
project cars for sale, old trucks for sale
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When I was a little girl living in way out in the country outside Lawrence, Kansas, I always knew that I could reach into the giant crock jar on our back porch and pull out a big whole pickle at any time. I do not remember my siblings and I so much as rinsing our hands before reaching in the crock for the pickles. I don't remember us even thinking we should rinse our hands. The hardest part of getting a pickle was lifting that heavy crock lid off. Those were the best pickles I have ever eaten in my whole life to date.

