I’ve been eating at Pasquale’s my whole life. It’s always been soooooo good. If you’ve never been, you should (and order the garlic bread and a calzone). Our senior high guys invited their friend Jerome to start coming to youth, but he has to work Wednesday nights slingin’ pizzas. We were more than happy to head there after church and visit a while. Sharky was sweet enough to share a little of his calzone with me and we met the very nice man who owns the restaurant. He’s South African, but sounds like a Brit which is endlessly fascinating to me—everything spoken in that accent sounds like a good story for some reason.