#78 - Ryan (2/3)
Being so out of my element, I was extra nervous about approaching people I didn’t know. I got really lucky with Gale and Harry, who couldn’t have been friendlier. (I didn’t tell them I was really high.) It’s always amazing to see how quickly strangers are able to shrink the world by identifying a shared interest or experience. This time Boston University was the bridge: Gale had graduated from BU’s nurse practitioner program in the ‘70s, and Colin was halfway to a master’s from the business school. The four of us got to chatting as I’m sure most of the visitors to the garden do about Chihuly’s glass creations, which are very hard not to like––sober, stoned or otherwise. Harry, Gale’s husband, mentioned the ornate Chihuly glasswork on the ceiling of the Bellagio, and as he told us more about their most recent trip to Vegas, I began inadvertently carrying his words over to a separate table in my mind where they were being shaped into a story about two magnanimous senior citizen globetrotters who meet two pleasant boys from Boston on a sunny Denver afternoon––Denver likes to boast about its 300 days of sunlight per year––and decide to fund their adventures around the world. I soon lost all track of the conversation, but I think I gave a respectable enough smile-and-nod performance to avoid appearing rude. After we said our goodbyes we faced a pressing question: How do you follow up an enhanced stroll through a botanic garden where you just made friends with cool travelers forty years your senior? Answer: You go to a taco/tequila fest with an amateur wrestling show in the middle of a parking lot. Needless to say the day got weirder and better and weirder and better––hanging from a tree with a friend from high school was one of the highlights––except for when we bumped into several large groups of homeless people...TBC.
Волшебный сегодня вечер был🖤.
Здесь перевели часы на час вперед( правда мы об этом чисто случайно узнали днем позже😊) и теперь темнеет после 8 вечера🤗,а вечерние прогулки мои самые любимые.На закате😍🌅.
The Empty Jar
How do see an empty jar? A clean sparkling clear glass jar.
Do you simply see its emptiness? The nothingness that fills it.
Do you see it as trash to be recycled or, worse, to throw it in the regular trash? Something of no real value now that's it's contents are gone.
My view of the empty jar is deeper. And grew even deeper today.
My taste buds remember how delicious the pickles were that once filled it.
My face recalls the smiling laughter filled conversation I had with another woman in Wegman's about how much we love Bubbies pickles.
My hands feel the fresh ingredients I chopped for soup that filled the jar.
My heart beats with excitement of had given the lovingly made soup to my neighbors.
My ego was filled with delight when they asked for more & I refilled the jar again with more soup.
My soul was ever so humbled when I learned today that he hates mushrooms & she loves them. He ate the first & second batch thinking I cooked it with meat (he knows I don't "do meat"). When he learned it was mushrooms, he said I must have cooked it with love because in 84 years he's never liked a mushroom until my soup.
Now how do you see this empty jar?
@bubbiespickles Your jars are full of wonderful stories.💕