thumbnail celebration

Stephen and I are consummate celebraters. And particularly, each art show or publication must come with a celebration to honor it. Usually this means food and/or a movie. The night after Stephen's symposium in Tacoma, it was The Leopard, a film so influential he'd spoken about it and shown images in his presentation. When Portland Noir came out, we had dinner at Everett Street Bistro, and Stephen had them make me a blue drink even though they didn't have one on the menu, since a blue drink (and subsequent blue teeth) make an appearance in my story.

Saturday night was a little celebration in honor of the publication of the April 2011 issue of Thumbnail Magazine, and my essay "Mariel at the Tent Flaps." [Which is just out - you can check it out and order print or e-copies here. Just saying.] The unique thing about Thumbnail is that everything in it is small. Flash fiction, tiny essays, short poetry. I told Stephen we should have a tiny celebration. Everything small. He not only indulged my whim, he went a little hog wild at the store while I was still at work.



Tiny pizzas. Tiny spanakopitas. Mushroom pockets that looked like little pasties. Grape tomatoes. Other little hors d'oeuvres. Stephen had mini chicken tacos.

[full disclosure: after we took the pictures, we dumped everything from the small plates into something more manageable.]

Tiny bottle of champagne (why it's blue, i don't know - you could also buy one whose bottle was pink like pepto bismol).

[full disclosure: after the tiny champagne, we opened a full-sized bottle.]



Tiny dessert.

And the movie? Time Bandits. A childhood favorite - one we had on video and watched over and over when I was a kid. It also happens to have a cast of small people.





When we popped the tiny champagne, I told Stephen we had to have a toast.

"A small toast," I said.

I raised my [shamefully regular-sized] glass. "To," I said.

And drank.

Stephen laughed the way you laugh when you're being sweet and indulging your wife's sense of humor.

He raised his glass. He said, "You."