I have this darling friend. His name is Tim. His birthday was Sunday, and tonight he and his partner, Cait, threw a delightful dinner party. This reminded me that I have not posted a very great video of Tim from the last dinner party, as well as some not-good photos. And, tonight, as an ode to Tim, some notes I made after the last dinner.





I think my favorite thing about Tim is that he gives real hugs–he squeezes hard the way some boys are afraid to. And he initiates them.

I love his quiet calm. I love that the night we hung out with their hippie friends he’d tell me quiet asides about himself.

And he’s really funny. His Julia Child impersonation. Oh my God. And the food.
Sipping wine.
Chicken that practically melts when you look at it.
Figs with walnuts in some sort of angel-tear sauce.
Ratatouille!?!
Butternut-squash soup.
And, my God, there was bread.
We were giddy.

Music dispute. Sweet, energetic electronica. Mellow singers who can fucking sing.
“Oh God. I can’t listen to this. It was on at Olive Garden every time.” -Caldwell

Cait’s candle spilled. The one from circle for a Flow Time, a I-fucking-love-my-life-right-now Time. We let the wax cool, scraped it up, put it back in. Reassambled candle.

The cat wants to climb in the dishwasher or under the fridge– “Oh my God, there’s so many mice under there.” -Caldwell (fuzzy toy mice)

Brit is goofy from her stitches, which she can’t clean herself, but now everyone else can.

Tuna Pal. Pal?
“A colloquial term for ‘friend’ or ‘dear one,’ usually said with a tilt of the head.” -Tim

Marcia’s lounging on the couch like a Roman, and Liz is in the dentist chair.

Cait was never taught to put things in a place.

Cait and Tim waltz around the kitchen.

“White meat.” -Calvin