On Sunday evening Mr. Ass and JB stopped by. This was unexpected. I often invite folks to come to the country, but it doesn't always end with them, well, actually coming. So I was quite pleased. I hadn't seen JB since Mr. Ass' big Saturnalia gathering my first year in town. I told Mr. Ass I could feed them tacos and that I had mozzarella if they had tomatoes or basil. Which, due to the splendor of his garden, he did. And behold, a nice plate of fresh tomato, basil and mozarella with a drizzle of decent olive oil and Balsamic vinegar. We sat outside and talked the talk and drank prosecco or beer. It was very nice.JB and I recollected our shared time in France for an exchange during high school, which included fond memories of emotionally disturbed children and failed attempts to drink in Paris without getting caught.
Then I heated up taco fixins and insisted on taking photographs that proved that I saw both of them. Proof!