I’m usually a fairly capable cook: I can do wonders with a cut of meat, zap most veggies into something you actually want to eat, turn pasta into all kinds of awesomeness, and let’s face it, my rice and beans are fuckin’ awesome. But tonight, I was humbled, brought to my proverbial knees, by nothing more or less than this:

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So, went out with my no-good friends, Beautiful Monster, Penguin Regina, Lord Absu, Dr. Ceejenstein, and others, to one of our regular hangouts, a little-known tapas restaurant called La Guitarra. We’ve been regulars there for a few years now, though I fear that’s about to change for me.

I’m having no second thoughts: I’ve wanted to leave the island for a long, long time, and this really does seem to be the time to finally set out and do it. But there’s no shame in admitting that there’s a few little things I’ll miss, and foremost among those are my friends, and the nights spent in warm camraderie around a few pitchers of amazing sangria, sharing food and laughs. And I sit, and I wonder if I’ll find a place like that over there, a place where the owner greets you by name when you walk in the door, where they have your table waiting, and there’s your friends, and your first glass of sangria is on the house. I hope I do.. and I hope I can invite my friends, both the ones I have now, and the ones I’m yet to make, over for a few drinks, and a few laughs.