Paul: Entertaining
I didn't grow up in a house that entertained guests often, but notable exceptions were the barbecues we occasionally hosted for graduate students in the department where my father was a professor. I absolutely loved these days. Like a lot of awkward, dorky kids, I enjoyed talking to adults, but I also liked just listening in on adult conversations. I have universally happy memories of such occasions, and they're weirdly sensorily vivid—smoky charcoal barbecue grills, hot New Mexico sun, oldies on a boombox, my dad talking about cars or woodworking or whatever with a colleague or student.
I adore and respect my parents, moreso now as an adult myself, but reliably good vibes were not otherwise a constant feature of our home, so maybe that's why the cookout days made such an impression on me, and why I therefore have come to realize I very much enjoy entertaining.
I was about to write "this is a drearily grownup thing to realize about oneself" but—is it? Kids know it's fun to have friends over to play. I do think it's really that simple.
There are all kinds of things to say about the possible decline of "entertaining" as a thing adults do, but in this specific moment I'm bored with all of them. The only thing that really matters is that I love hosting people in my home. I love the airy catching-up that's only possible in person; I love cooking or helping to cook or being the converation while my wife cooks. I love being interrupted by the necessity to wrangle our son. I love that when everything goes just right you can practically feel people starting to care more about each other in real time.
It's good to do and I want to do more of it.