A few summit photos - Wacky Wednesday edition

[Jennifer_Weser]

I hope you enjoy the pic's from Bash to a "Say Anything" moment to the casino floor. It feels like a life time ago and I can't wait till next year! Cheers - Jenn

[Alexandr S]

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[waarr mamderrr]

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[Mery]

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[Lucky Penny]

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[Ян Лившиц]

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[Ян Лившиц]

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[Rowen]

You know that feeling when you're cleaning out a closet, and you find an old jacket you haven't worn in years? You stick your hands in the pockets, hoping for a forgotten twenty, but usually, you just come up with some lint and a crumpled receipt. Well, my life felt like that closet for a long time. I'm a freelance graphic designer, which is a fancy way of saying I have a lot of feast-or-famine months and my sleep schedule is a suggestion, not a rule. I was in a "famine" phase, staring at a looming tax bill and a car that was making a new, concerning sound.

The one bright spot was my Uncle Carl. He wasn't a blood relative, just a dear old friend of my dad's who never had kids of his own. He was a character—a world traveler, a collector of weird trinkets, and a man who loved a good story. He passed away last fall, and it hit me hard. He’d always told me, "Life's a grand adventure, kid. Don't get stuck in the mud." A few weeks after the funeral, a package arrived for me. It was from his lawyer. Inside, there was a note in his messy scrawl: "For when you need a little adventure. Don't spend it all in one place." Taped to the note was a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill.

A hundred bucks. It wasn't life-changing, but it felt significant. It was his last gift. I couldn't just use it for groceries or put it toward the electric bill. That felt… disrespectful. He’d given me this money for an adventure. But what kind of adventure can you have for a hundred dollars? A really nice dinner? A day trip somewhere? It didn't feel like enough.

I was mulling this over, staring at my computer screen, avoiding the tax software I had open. An ad popped up for an online casino. I usually close them instantly, but this time, I paused. Uncle Carl loved poker. He used to host these low-stakes games in his garage, full of terrible jokes and cheap beer. It was his version of a night out. A crazy idea popped into my head. What if I used his hundred dollars to play? It felt like the most "Uncle Carl" thing I could do. It was a risk. An adventure. I did a quick search for a reputable site and landed on one called sky247. The sky247 login was straightforward, and I deposited the entire hundred. My heart was pounding. This was it. I was either going to honor his memory or blow his last gift in the dumbest way possible.

I went straight to the live dealer section, looking for a poker game. I found a Texas Hold'em table. The dealer's name was Elena. She had a warm smile. I bought in for the hundred. The other players had names like "AceHunter" and "LuckyLisa." I felt like a complete imposter. The first few hands, I folded immediately, my palms sweating. I was playing with Uncle Carl's money. The pressure was immense.

Then, I got a decent hand. A pair of kings. My pulse quickened. I raised. A few players folded, but AceHunter and LuckyLisa stayed in. The flop came: a nine, a four, and a two. Nothing that seemed to help anyone. The betting went around. I raised again, trying to look strong. AceHunter folded. LuckyLisa called. The turn card was another king. Three of a kind. I had to fight to keep my face neutral. I checked, trying to play it cool. LuckyLisa bet a small amount. I raised her. She called. The river card was a seven. The board was a complete mess. I went all-in. It was a bold, probably stupid move. It was my entire stack—Uncle Carl's entire stack.

LuckyLisa thought for a long time. The chat was silent. I could feel my heartbeat in my throat. Finally, she folded. She’d been bluffing with a pair of nines. I won the pot. My hundred dollars became almost three hundred. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

I played for another hour, up and down, but mostly up. I was being careful, but also feeling a strange confidence. It was like Uncle Carl was there, nudging me. "See? Adventure." I decided to walk away when my stack hit five hundred dollars. I cashed out. I’d quintupled his money.

The tax bill got paid. The car got a tune-up. But that's not the point. The point is, I took his gift of a hundred-dollar adventure and turned it into a story. I still think about him every time I see that old jacket of mine. I never did find a twenty in the pocket, but I found something better—a memory of a crazy, nerve-wracking, and ultimately joyful night where I felt connected to him through a simple game of cards. It wasn't about the money. It was about taking a chance, just like he always did. And sometimes, that's the greatest inheritance of all.