Are you my Pistachio ice cream?

This summer, I babysat a few kids.

Every time I drove to their house or to my home, I passed by “Baci Gelato.”

There was a clear voice in my head that said I should check it out, but somehow I kept putting it off until the second half of August.

Once I got in and saw that they had pistachio, that was the beginning of the end for me. (I gained 3 pounds in two weeks.)

Not only did they have pistachio, but the had the BEST pistachio gelato/ice cream/anything that I’d ever tasted. My drive home started to include a stop to get pistachio and another flavor. There was hazelnut, there was hazelnut-chocolate, mocha chip, cookies and cream, panna cotta, bla bla bla… and they were good, they were great even. But pistachio was always at the bottom of the cup, and I was always so happy to see it peek through.

Pistachio was always my favorite. Pistachio was always waiting for me underneath it all. Pistachio was what I chose every time, regardless of the other options.

And now I have to ask myself whether I have ever felt that way about a person. Have my relationships been the result of choosing my “favorite flavor” or being afraid to try the other flavors?

{This half-baked post is brought to you by getting pralines & cream and french pastry cheesecake ice cream at a different locale.}

 

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In other news,

I had a really hard day today because I spent the whole day and half of last night worried about something that didn’t even end up happening, even though I had every reason to think it would. Work was difficult and my mind was somewhere else and not helping the situation.

Then I went to teach my weekly yoga class and it ended up showing me how ridiculous my thoughts had been, how sick I was making myself. It also had a heart warming moment because one of the people in my class (now a certified yoga teacher) told me that my class was the first class she ever went to and it was the reason she got turned on to yoga. It’s an extraordinary honor to hear those words from another person. It’s so gratifying to know that my efforts accomplished something. I planted a seed in someone.

This morning, my niece was looking through a notebook in which I wrote a silly story for her about a year ago. She then asked, “Can we write another?” Of course we can, of course we did. But really, she wrote it. I gave some ideas and she put her words down.

So that’s my day in reverse. Watching two seeds planted over a year ago become something strong and beautiful. And ice cream. What a blessing.

 

 

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