Visitors make a home

Ha, I've had visitors.  It's official.  Entertaining guests, I believe, is a prerequisite to calling someplace home.  No one visits you on vacation, right?  But when you can say "Yes, this is where I sleep." or "May I offer you a drink?" it is a defining moment.

Now, you could argue that Richard, a friend from high school turned DC resident, and Megan, one of my district lawyer friends, did not travel all this way specifically to see me.  Make the argument that they had some sort of "wedding" to plan.  And that they were staying with "family" (who could reject the comfort of my couch?).  But I know--and you do too, my dear readers--that their deep longing to see me was what really drew them to Charleston from far off DC.

That's actually twice I've seen them since I've put the District into the rearview mirror.  I think they might be following me.

We had a fantastic evening downtown.  Curious of my last… adventure as reported to you, we went to dinner at Basil, a delicious Thai joint that doubles as the start of my "Dale versus Hulk" escapade.  The food perfect, the wine better:  I had the Pad See-Eu, stir-fry with a sweet soy sauce to which the waitress recommended adding a bit of spice for kick.  Go with mild, that shit gets hot.  Asians take spicy very seriously.  Richard insisted he owed me for something or other and they graciously paid for my dinner.  Quite the lovely gesture.

You guys should feel free to come again ANY TIME.

We spent the rest of the evening out on one of Charleston's many patios.  The skies having cleared up from whatever the weatherman drug with him from DC.  I swear it hasn't rained once since I got here, but as soon as my meteorologist friend comes to town it gets interesting.  How curious.

No one tried to shot put me AND I can now call this place home.  A fine eve.