I just said good-bye to very dear friends of mine. One of them used to be my lover, actually. Almost twenty years ago. She was my first real love. Luckily, we managed to keep our friendship, and then grow it. It doesn't hurt that she and my wife are really good friends.

And now she has found someone to share her life with. A truly wonderful, intelligent person. She chose to spend her birthday with us, and then they decided to stay the weekend.

Yesterday, we had originally planned to have two more of our dearer friends over, since I have for the longest time envisioned that the four of them would enjoy each others company. But over the course of the day, more and more of our friends called us, and subsequently accepted an invitation to join us.

In the end, there were twelve of us that sat down for dinner. In our little dining room. I made carbonara. For sixteen. Still, every single scrap of it was eaten. My wife made a large bowl of salad. That disappeared as well. An apple crisp and a gallon of ice cream went the same way. As did numerous bottles of Valpolicella. I don't think that you can pay me a higher compliment than enjoying my food. I mean really enjoying my food. That moment when somebody pulls at your sleave, looks you deep in the eye and says quietly in this child-like honest manner: "Thank you!" That just makes me all warm and fuzzy inside. And I am a sucker for feeling warm and fuzzy inside.

It really feels good, having butterflies in your stomach.