“Honey, it’s such a beautiful day, why don’t we meet for lunch?” I tapped the text on my cell, then glanced out the window, inhaled the warm fresh breeze that drifted in through the opened window, and smiled at the azure sky just as my phone pinged. That was fast, I thought.
“Sure, where do you want to go?”
“Anywhere convenient for you,” I said as I did a little happy dance. “What do you feel like having?”
“Hm, I feel like Lazy Dog.”
“Lazy Dog? You always feel like Lazy Dog,” I chuckled. “That works for me, but do you have time to go down to Cupertino and back?”
“I can make it work. I had one realtor meeting this morning and nothing else the rest of today. There’s always paperwork to do, but I can do that anytime.”
“Let’s do it then. Pick you up in 10,” I tapped the message on my cell as I headed to the kitchen to fill the water bottle. I snapped my fingers. I backtracked to the drawer where I kept the sunscreen. Cupertino is a 40-minute drive south into Summer. It’s almost always Spring, where we live in South San Francisco, temperature-wise. Although we should wear sunscreen anyway, we definitely need to pack sunscreen if we’re heading into the hot sun for an afternoon.
I saw my husband standing on the front step of his office building as I approached. He stepped down onto the sidewalk when he saw my Veloster U-turn to his side of the street. He waved his hand with his signature enthusiastic finger dance accompanied by his exuberant smile that I have loved since the first time I saw him. Thirty-four years of marriage and he still greets me the same way as he did the day we met at a mutual friend’s BBQ.
“You made it in record time,” he said, climbing into the passenger seat. He leaned over and pecked me on my lips before securing his seatbelt. “Good idea on your part,” he said as I pulled out, heading towards the freeway.
“I’m glad you think so. It’s such a gorgeous day. I just wanted to get out and enjoy it with you.”
“My thoughts exactly,” he smiled at me as he picked up the tube of sunscreen, squeezed some out onto his fingers and rubbed it over his face and arms. “If you hadn’t texted me, I might have grabbed lunch on my way to check out the house I’m sitting on this Sunday.”
“You have an open house this Sunday?”
“Yes. I picked it up this morning.”
“That’s great! I’ll bake cookies.”
“I was hoping you would say that. I’m craving your Snickerdoodles,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Mm, I can taste it already—the spicy cinnamon sugar, the crunchy outside with the flaky, soft middle. I have to say you make the best Snickerdoodles I have ever had,” he said, smacking his lips together.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” I giggled. “With that reception, I would bake cookies every day, Mister.”
“I wouldn’t complain,” he said. “Sometime before Sunday, I want to take a walkthrough of the house.”
“Why don’t we swing by after lunch?”
“Are you sure that’s okay with you?” he asked.
“I’m sure,” I nodded. “It doesn’t matter what we do as long as we spend the afternoon together.”
As I accelerated onto the freeway, we filled each other in on our morning, which was pretty routine, but the way he told me made it sound like Tom Sawyer teaching his friend about whitewashing the fence. He loved everything he did, and me being the writer, I enjoyed hearing his stories.
We were ahead of the lunch crowd. The hostess seated us at a booth by the window. He ordered a pitcher of iced tea and the Waldorf Chicken Salad Sandwich with French Fries, and I ordered the same thing with a salad instead of fries.
After lunch, we took a leisure walk around the neighborhood near the restaurant bantering about whatever came to mind. We giggled. We teased and, at times, learned something new about each other. Dating your honey never gets old.
On a gorgeous day like today, this was one of the venues we’d choose. It wasn’t adventurous. It wasn’t extravagant. It wasn’t expensive. It was just a simple afternoon hanging out with my honey doing something as mundane as enjoying a meal together, but it’s these little moments that we cherish for a lifetime.