His parents flew in from Scottsdale, Arizona on Thursday, as his father’s birfday was Saturday. Party time! We ate ridiculous amounts of local food, enjoyed local truffles, and generally had a local-resident-as-tour-guide time, aside from the fact that outdoor activities were off-limits due to the cold. It was an emotionally complicated visit, but I’m glad for it. Greg and I both came away with a tangled mixture of mourning and resolve. Can resolve be tangled?
Anyway, Deana and I decided to keep his birfday on Monday simple, since it’d be in the evening after work. I threw together a little dinner of spaghetti squash and pan-fried chicken tossed with soft goat cheese and olive oil (as much as one can “toss” melting goat cheese). I served up a Spier chenin blanc with it, and I think everything turned out well.