In the early days of our relationship, the young Mr Smith worked long hours, frequently pulling overnight shifts. I lost count of how many dates involved him falling asleep at the restaurant table or beside me in a concert seat. It was both funny and annoying, the latter when we had wasted money on tickets to events he missed because he was unconscious while attending them.
Tonight wasn't quite that bad, but it definitely had a familiar ring to it. He went up to hike from Brainerd to Blue lakes in the Indian Peaks wilderness area. He has made regular trips back to this site since he was very young. I used to go with him, but I limit my mountain hikes these days. He had to park far away from the trailhead, adding miles to his total hike. By the time he returned home, he was slightly dehydrated and moving slowly.
I had discussed with him earlier this week about going out to dinner tonight. It's our anniversary, and we don't actively celebrate it other than going to a restaurant somewhere. I decided to harken back to those early days myself, with a glass of white zinfandel, a varietal I don't believe I have consumed in this century. He honored the past by being totally zoned out, and a relative lightweight over a single beer.
We were going to go to a distillery after dinner, where I planned to try to talk his friend the owner into being my guest to Rotary. Instead, with full tummies and mellowed out from a single drink each, we went over and cuddled the kids while they watched music videos on YouTube. You know, I'm not mad with how this evening turned out. This is more my speed anyway.
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