… drink stupid amounts of Belgian beer.
We visited Brussels on a cold grey weekend with a good-sized squad of friends, old and new. The LynnRoss (as they are known colloquially — making the spawn currently gestating in Lynn’s belly Roslyn (or so I fervently hope)), Ari and Andy, Iris and Simon (pronounced in the French manner, accent on the latter syllable). I didn’t realize until we’d departed, but apparently the original plan was for this to be a getaway weekend for Iris and Simon, but Ari, who is Iris’s roommate, decided to tag along. Not wanting to be the third wheel, he invited some friends, who invited other friends, and we ended up with a merry party of eight, nearly impossible to seat without reservations.