"One cannot think well, love well, sleep well, if one has not dined well."

I sat on the little stone wall on the beach tonight and just watched the ocean. There was an almost-full moon and a lot of roving clouds, and honest-to-God, the moon shines down on the sea like a spotlight. It doesn't disperse at all. It's so creepy and awe-inspiring. I was wishing I had my camera but even if I did I would have never been able to capture the essence of what I was looking at. The sea was restless tonight; it's been threatening to rain all day. The tide was coming in angles and about 12' from my Chucks. Perhaps I'm romanticizing the ocean... but I just don't think I could ever get used to living next to it. It's like you're on the edge of the world! I know it sounds cheesy, but I was sitting there thinking about when the first ones of our kind took to the ocean, just to see what they could find... they must have honestly spent months not knowing if they would ever see land again. It's just so big and amazing and scary and wonderful. Watching the tide is intoxicating for me.

I went back to the Greek place tonight, aforementioned as my favorite restaurant in America. Mmmmm. I took The Stand, and sat at the bar, and has some seriously amazing food, as always. I chatted with the Greek bartenders a little. I love that place. I swear everyone that works there is related. I asked one of them about what kind of peppers they use in their tyrokafteri (because as you all know, I loathe peppers, but this stuff is addictive) and she told me that her husband grew them in their backyard! Awesome! I think I eventually got from her that they might be habaneros.

I really love to people-watch, but eating alone at a crowded, popular restaurant on a Friday night takes its own special prize. I sat at the end of the bar, next to a man who possibly spent every day of his last 70 years on the Florida beach. He was tan, weathered, and freckled, with pure white hair and crinkly eyes, and a ball cap. He had lamb with mint jelly and red wine (left the green beans on his plate, natch). When he left he made a point to lean over my book and ask me to have a wonderful weekend. After he left I was probably the only single person party in the place. Families, groups of friends, couples, many of them Greek and all of them boisterous were crammed in that little restaurant like sardines, and having a marvelous time. The line was never less than 20 people long while I was there. The waiters and bartenders seemed to know everyone. I swear I was the only tourist in the whole restaurant. I would have loved to have been sharing my food with a friend (since 82.3% of enjoying something is sharing it) but I got such a unique perspective getting to only observe and not comment. I had a lovely time. I got a baklava to go and let someone have my chair.