When the hell did I get this old?

Still feeling somewhat subdued following the whole Greg Louganis on the front drive incident, I was fortunate enough to be treated to lunch by some friends who, despite my indolence and inability to think of anyone other than myself, still think of me occasionally and occasionally fondly.

It was time for another Sanguiccio lunch and, as ever, Genio the Maestro didn't disappoint. He hauled his wine from the depths of the snow bank, made sure my roast beef sandwich was liberally slathered with homemade horseradish sauce (which I am sure caused several of my chest hairs to fall out), and generally made us feel like we were at home. This is what I want from a restaurant/sandwich place - and Sanguiccio gives me that every time. 

During our reminiscences we caught up on about three months' worth of illness, work gossip, travel, sport, politics, the niceties of Italian, future plans, aspirations, frustrations and machinations. It was, all in all, the perfect way to spend a two-hour lunch - and the perfect people with whom to spend it.