I Remember the First Time a Colleague Told Me She Loves Going to a Topless Bar and I Blushed. I Didn't Know What Tapas Was. I Stand Corrected

When I was first hired at Fairfield University, a wonderful, saintly colleague bragged to me about how she loved eating at a topless bar and I sort of blushed. It took me a while to get comfortable with people before I said to someone, "I can't believe (so and so) ate at topless bars." 

I then heard of a thing called Tapas. "Oh, I never heard of that."

Well, last night, I too ate at a topless bar with colleagues who just endured the long application process we completed over the last intense few weeks. Tapas. Delicious shrimp, potatoes, and other small dishes served in small increments that are perfect bite-size euphoria. I suppose some feel the same with tassels and pole-dancing, but food has always been a better enticement for me. Tapas is good and I'm sold. I just want to cook such delicious foods myself. 

Perhaps they should open up Tapas beaches. That might be cool. 

Okay, Sunday. Lee's winds weren't that horrific and the lawn is mowed. Another piece of writing towards publication was worked on, and I feel comfortable heading into other projects today, including the grocery store where I can get Diet Coke. I need my afternoon bubbles even if it is bad for me. I have gone all week without my afternoon fix, but I'm going back to it because I can. 

Ai Ai Ai. What a week! It's hard to even wrap my head around it, but I'm on the other side and I'm a better man for it. 

May good food find a way to your plates, too.