dog years: Sushi and Champagne in the Afternoon Saturday was as full a day I've ever had. I ate sushi and drank champagne. That was a first. I finally looked nice enough to deserve the company of my wife at a semi-formal function. That too, was a first. Three pictures were taken of me kissing someone. Two of those someone's were Rich and Nate. Not a first.
I had a beautiful woman on my arm and I was surrounded by incredibly intelligent, witty friends (and one pirate, who was at safe distance for most of the evening) during a elegant celebration of Nate and Traci's union. Rich was sick, but 'on' the entire night, Craig was worn out from a week of work in South Carolina, but subtly hilarious, Lisa is pregnant and radiant, and Tim's hair was absolutely stunning. I mean movie star quality. I mentioned it to everyone, to which Rich replied, "yes, it is wonderful, isn't it?" But I don't think they saw it quite the way I did. I'm short and from my perspective, well, suffice it to say, he looked famous. So when those who were silently suffering from life's tight clamp retired for the evening, my wife April and I asked Tim out on a date. We met my mountain friends Shawn and Golden at the Bickett Street Gallery for their friends opening. It was nice, they were nice, we went to coffee afterwards, that was nice, too. Then April opted for the house. Tim and I sought out Nate and Traci and the wedding party. Things didn't come together. Tim and I were wearing suits (Tim was wearing his suit, my suit was wearing me) and we wanted to be seen drinking out of short glasses in a dark place. It felt writerly. We listened to a couple of great stories from some creative fellows. Pregnant wife stranded in Raleigh story. Daughter in Florida story. State mandated magazine sales story. We didn't have any cash. We ate at Char-Grill. Sitting at the picnic table, in suits. Then Tim drove me home. The next morning, while we were getting ready for church, April asked me how my date went last night. I laughed and told her it went fine. Just fine.
