It sometimes surprises me what sort of things make me think of Ian while he is away.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVqsps86pf_rq1ix6KEh1rm_OZeZhbqkBOPT5QAqTpvLA759NqJMzW924d6ceU-sO21EMCsGHoj_tohPlKsgnv0dCw-9xZbfmps5cG31GC_N1oJwM_YaCaNjFEjfUcgXCJzRZE6dWrmcSQ/s400/mush.jpg)
A plate of button mushrooms, served on pasta with delicious vodka sauce and a slice of italian bread. Whatever was it that made me think of him?
He wasn't here to remind me that mushrooms grow on poop.
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