Dear future hubster

Dear future hubster, I think you're the only future hubster who wouldn't be patronizing with his silly little wife when she explains that she took a 30 minute detour when driving home from work, and on purpose. On a day that Mika would hate because it rains and rains and rains and rains. You would know that your silly little wife doesn't like driving in the rain, especially not when it's also dark. You would know that she must have been facing her fears, pushing her limits. You, dear future hubster, would be proud of her.

Dear future hubster, we're regulars in a bar where Barry White is being played. We meet in that bar after having ditched Museum Night before it could have gotten crazy, and we leave named bar while the regular buses still run. I'm in search of the adjective that describes what we are becoming.

Dear future hubster, you need to experience end of the night and break of the dawn on the meseta. You need to see what starry skies really mean, far from all city lights, in the middle of undisturbed nothing; you need to feel the deep and tangible silence. Keep walking west; as the sun rises behind you, the morning golden hour will see you arriving to Hontanas - I will be waiting for you there, where café con leche is hot, pigs are stinky and life is good.

Dear future hubster, I've you are ever exposed to the hard choice of Nadal or Federer in my presence, here's a proposed media line, for your consideration: " Out of the two I would still choose Djokovic, but honestly, I would exchange all three for Marat Safin any given day ".

Dear future hubster, I just realized I don't fully agree with Love Actually's Prime Minister Hugh Grant. His famous and borderline tacky yet touching speech about the airport arrival halls needs amendments. It warms the heart to watch people arrive and families reunite, old friends come home; there is something powerful to the intense moment of seeing someone again, all the more if that someone dedicated time to come greet you at the airport. But it all becomes very unnerving if you're not only there to watch others' moments, but to pick up somebody yourself. All those people waiting, not really in line, too many of them in too little place, dogs, strollers, extended families, flowers, stereotypical wannabe-machos in tight t-shirts over their growing beer belly, hotel employees with their signs held up, everybody a little pushy and very excited, blocking your view and the exit corridor, checking the time every two minutes, re-checking estimated arrival every minute... ...