Grand opening of casa Erin and other tales of self-employment

It's like this.

I've discovered that while I cherish the endless travel my virtuality affords me and doubt I'll ever be able to give up this sweet absolute autonomy, I'm not exactly cut out to work alone all day in front of a laptop.

As luck would have it, my old company recently moved into an office dos pasos from my front door. And in a stroke of luck I didn't appreciate at first, a decent pincho tour is a challenge in my barrio. I have a weekly lunch date with two discriminating friends from that old company. Since the move, our weekly lunches have decidedly not been cutting it.

And so, today marked the grand opening of Casa Erin. I supplied a tasty Ribera, a fresh baked loaf of rustic bread, a fabulous salad and the grill. One of my lunch companions donated homemade morcillas - picante and dulce - and chorizo, all from her family's matanza back in the pueblo. Buika sang, and we feasted. We finished up two hours later with strawberries that inspired me to continue my song of spring, although my friends insisted that while they were exquisite, I mean exquisite, strawberries from Andalucia don't prove it's spring in Castilla Leon.

We toasted to living well.

That's all. Just one of those afternoons when I stop and remind myself:
I like my life in Salamanca.

C'mon, wherever you live, you could make room for two hours of good company and a bottle of wine this week, couldn't you?

Salamanca is a moveable feast.