Salty and Sweet

This morning brought yet another stumbling block in my path toward professional advancement. I'm hoping, in time, that I can summon the patience and work to make this stumbling block into a stepping stone. Much of this anxiety immediately left me when upon my return home this evening I saw no less than ten children jumping on the trampoline in our backyard. Spring and frolic are an overdue thing in Minnesota.

Still, I chose to self-medicate tonight with some buttered popcorn. While popping the popcorn I thought of my good friend Cash. His favorite treat is popcorn. This thought reminded me of the moment when I knew he and I were going to be good friends.

It all started when Cash and his able and wonderful wife Marisa had invited my family and I to dinner. After dinner they asked us if we wanted some ice cream. Of course we said yes because ice cream is our favorite treat. Out came a very small scoop of ice cream in an even smaller clear glass bowl. You know, the kind of bowl in which you place chopped onions or parsley in preparation for cooking. Now, you have to understand that in the family I grew up in when you have ice cream it means you can easily down a half gallon between two or three people. So the shock of seeing ice cream in this small a quantity was not soon to leave me. Anyway, the second time they invited us over for dinner we retired to their living room. Again, Cash asked if we wanted some ice cream. I said, "That depends. Are you actually going to give us ice cream, or are you only going to tease us with a palate cleanser?" This brought about a good laugh and Cash's confession that he doesn't really like ice cream . . . which lead me to discover that he does like popcorn. And when I say he likes popcorn, I mean he likes it with a lot of butter . . . and not that stuff with water in it, either! Butter . . . the greasier the better.

Anyway, tonight after I had my buttered popcorn - some of which I spilled on to my favorite french cuff shirt . . . may the grease remedy work . . . I chased it down with a bowl of ice cream. I know, decadent, eh? I'll have to swim an extra few laps tomorrow. But I told that story to inquire about how it is that friendships develop. I mean, I understand that chance and good fortune seem to play some role, but perhaps, had I not mocked Cash's gift of ice cream or had he not reacted so positively than we might not be the friends we are. But, then again, I suppose that's only one possibility among the pluriverse.