Ever walked out of a glass art gallery wondering which crazy-face made up price tags in the thousands?
Ever walked out of a glass art gallery wondering which crazy-face made up price tags in the thousands?
Imagine skipping weekends in your life for a year.
I did.
Okay, it was eleven months. Still, I can’t recommend it.
A psychology professor was giving an oral test. Speaking about manic depression, she asked, “How would you explain a man screaming at the top of his lungs one minute, then sitting in a chair weeping uncontrollably the next?” An athlete in the third row offered, “Umm, maybe he’s a basketball coach?”
I looked up from the dining room table to see Boyfriend shouldering a rifle in my parent’s kitchen.
“Good going,” I thought, right after careening into a seven foot tower of a man.
A young Catalonian couple found out they were expecting twins just a few weeks after purchasing a plot of land to build their first home.
Our ferry arrived in Minorca several hours later than expected.
It was an everything-is-closed Sunday. In an isolated Spanish port-town. During siesta. Shop-fronts were locked up tight. Wifi eluded us. No, we hadn’t written down the contact number for the people delivering our rental car. In the sun-baked silence, not even crickets chirped. We battled post-apocalyptic conditions to discover our car-delivering individuals had given up on us.
What is a Farton, and why on earth would you eat it? Read on!
Want to move to Spain and plant some Zinfandel vines?
Not going to happen.
Going to Spain was a bit of an accident. It all started with an Australian construction heavyweight going unexpectedly bankrupt.
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