#fbf – Behind My Special Jar Of Pickles

So 2 nights ago, I woke up in a panic because I noticed my special jar of pickles was missing from the bookshelf at the foot of my bed. I texted my mother in the middle of the night (I'm living with my parents until my my apartment is available next month) asking where the pickles were. (See conversation below; ignore the first text.)

Yes, I have a special jar of pickles (right). I was horrified they'd disappeared - my heart completely sank, and I had a difficult time sleeping the rest of the night.

Do you ever hoard random objects because they hold a special meaning to you? Maybe you still have pictures of an ex or you wouldn't shower for a week after Vanilla Ice autographed your boobs - or something. Well, this jar of pickles reminds me of an awesome night - so I kept it. Allow me to give you the back story.

Several months ago, singer-songwriter Ryn Weaver played a show here in Northern Colorado; it was the first time I'd ever met her or seen her perform, and she was a total badass. If you don't know her music, check her out - she's a cool chick. Anyway, a couple girlfriends of mine and I were hanging out with her backstage, having deep, meaningful conversations about feminism and life and God remembers what, taking shots of tequila and having a fabulous time. She even let us in on a little secret: drink pineapple juice before drinking liquor to protect your vocal chords.

One of Ryn's guilty pleasures is pickles, so naturally pickles were on her rider. She pulled out the jar of pickles from her cooler and offered us all a pickle. There's really nothing more to that part of the story other than it was so randomly awesome, I decided to keep the jar of pickles that she left behind that night.

If you're wondering where the pickles ended up...they're still alive. I thought my mother had thrown them away, but they were hiding somewhere else in my room.

Here's a selfie I took with her (below). Follow Ryn Weaver on Twitter, Instagram, and Facebook. She'll become your new girl crush.