Broken Glass

I had a dream.
Not the kind that delivers meaningful and powerful words of wisdom, inspiration, and hope.
But, I am searching for its message, nonetheless.

I don't remember the details, but I do remember that I broke not one,
   NOT two, but THREE glass vessels.
I say "vessels" because their uses cannot be narrowed down.

A bowl, a glass, a vase?

A candle place?  

They did not break completely.
There were no broken pieces on the floor.
Cracked and damaged - yes.
But, not completely undone.

Still, the jagged, fractured lines caught me off guard.
Once strong and seemingly unbreakable pieces,
   suddenly fragile and frail; exposed.

Oysters, and Mussels, and Peppers . . . OH my.

I used to love Oysters. 

AND, Mussels. 

And, PEPPERS of every kind.

I remember being younger, wondering . . .
          why do old(er) people always carry a stash of Tums?

“Need a Tums?” one would ask, as if offering up a treat.

“Sure!” one would say.  

“Pass one my way,” would say another.

Recently, I went to the beach with my 
partner/love interest/boyfriend.

[Sidebar:  My next story should be “what to call your mate when you’re over forty”.]

We treated ourselves to some oysters. 

Mmmmmm, with just a dash of horseradish.  

And, of course, a nice cold beer to wash them down.  

Not long after, however, I had this uncomfortable feeling in my stomach. 

Uncomfortable in a knotted up, twisted up, menstrual cramps (except, not), sort of way.

We stopped at a gas (station) for some Zantec. 

Fortunately, that seemed to relieve the discomfort.

I haven’t had oysters, since.

On a separate beach trip, with my girlfriend . . . 

[a girlfriend is a girlfriend, at any age]

we ordered some mussels (not to be confused with muscles).

And, of course, a nice cold beer to wash them down.  

They were delicious. 

But, similar to the experience with the oysters,
   my stomach started to turn before I was even able to finish my meal.

This time, I went home and took a Tagamet. 

I haven’t had mussels, since. 

Maybe I’m developing an allergy to shellfish, I thought. 

But, then there were the peppers. 

I was not convinced the first time (and probably in denial),   

but it was after the experience with my favorite Greek salad,

   loaded with Kalamata olives, pickled turnips, diced cucumbers,

GREEN AND BANANA PEPPERS;
topped with juicy, grilled chicken,
   and sprinkled with feta cheese . . .
             [Sigh]
that I knew.    

   

So, good-bye, peppers.  

Farewell, oysters, and mussels, too.     

How I will miss you.

I guess I AM getting old(er).

Tums, anyone???