You know, just getting a little fed up with the microaggression lately.
Is a long night, a good friend, a long talk and a bottle of wine to worry less, have more faith and feel all around better.
Rochester hasn’t done completely wrong by me.
Most of my evening was spent in the kitchen. And I don’t even mind.
Butter chicken for yesterday’s naan. Broccoli for no reason at all. It’s just that good.
Tomorrow for breakfast? Choco-Banana overnight oats topped with buttered pecans (that I did not burn to a crisp this time. Win.).
Yeah. I don’t mind.
Involving a locked roof-access door and a rusty fire escape ladder.
Hi. Call me Indy.
I’m pretty sure it says “Yes, you’re correct”.
and nothing really exciting or life changing is happening to me.
Except this: I went back to Spain, as evidenced below, and it’s left me with the burning conviction that I will go back to Spain before year’s end.
I just have to. I mean, this has to be the reason nothing else is panning out, right? Please, just send me back to Spain.
a kilometros de ti en el sofá..
Una vez llegada, vino el momento para irme. Que pena despedirme ya. @lidmgar Felicidades mi cordobesa favorita! Hasta la próxima (que ojalá será muy pronta).