This is my 500th post. Have I written anything of value in the past year, 7 months and 24 days?

It seems fitting that this one is about a friend that I met through the blog. His name is
Robert. We had dinner last night in Geneva, at the Irish place. My entree was good (and yes, it contained bacon), but the "chips" that accompanied were wonderful. Robert ate some sort of mushroom pasta thing that included morels, called 'Wild Mushroom Triangoli.' We shared a flourless chocolate cake for dessert. If we'd each had our own, I'd have been uncomfortable afterward, but half of it was just right.

We walked around
Geneva Commons after we ate. Talked about canoodling ad nauseam. We laughed. Talked about theoretical constructs that guide our choice in canoodlees. We sat on (surprisingly comfortable) benches. Talked about nippleless Victoria's Secret models who are relatively unattractive, and the sometimes-horrible clothing that they try to sell. As we often do, we deconstructed the complex events that led to our meeting, and reveled in our luck at finding good friends in improbable ways.

It was a great evening. As I drove home (more than four hours after we'd arrived) I thought about how much I look forward to those meetings, and how deflated I feel when they're through. How I wish we lived closer, thought we'd be certain to eat well (and badly) more frequently, were that the case. How I'm lucky, after this last birthday year, to have the friends that I do.

Thank you.

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