Cups and Cups and Cups of Joy and Laughter

Tens of types of frozen yogurt. Big paper cups. Rows of toppings, sauces, and fruit. And one very happy me.

I had cake batter and chocolate, swirled on top of one another. The big bowl made it difficult to judge how much I was getting. And then I found the fruit. There were kiwis, blackberries, strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, and oranges. I dumped them all on top, plus some mochi berries for good measure. And I placed the whole cup down on the scale next to Clara’s. Then I sat, squished in on short stools and a L-shaped sofa with Tal, Cecelia, Audrey, Clara, and other theatre friends. We bumped into Micah and his friend and sat with them until they left. More people we knew kept arriving and the whole placed seemed like a microcosm of joy. There were retro pictures and posters on the wall, some classic movie playing on a big TV above my head, good rock music that was not-too-soft, but not-too-loud either, and so many people moving in and out, walking down the assembly-line, making their own perfect yogurt sundaes.

And when Clara, Cecelia, and I were walking back through the parking lot to climb into Jeff-the Volvo and head home, Cecelia said, “Cups just makes everyone so incredibly happy!” And she’s right. Frozen yogurt just does. It made me happy when we were driving home. It made me happy when Cecelia and I were watching Gilmore Girls. And it made me happy when Cecelia and I were going through hilarious old home-videos. Then, Clara came over and we had dinner, and I filled up on merriment all over again. There’s just something about the sense of community and bliss that one gets when they’re sitting around eating good food and talking with people they love.

We talked, baked brownies, watched John Oliver’s stand-up piece (There is still 3/4 of a pan sitting on top of the stove, all warm and enticing.), “Terrifying Times,” and talked and laughed and smiled even more.

It’s times like this afternoon that I’m reminded that it’s worth it to be alive. So incredibly worth it. Now, if I could just come to terms with the fact that I don’t weigh too much and know one, that my doctors, nutritionist, and therapist aren’t going to let me gain any weight outside of my healthy range and two, that I can obviously trust my metabolism because I have never in my life gotten anywhere close to being even a pound too much, I’ll be a pretty content gal. (How’s that for a run-on sentence? I think it wins this week’s award.)

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