One of our favorite things to do anytime of the year, but especially during these warm days and cool nights of summer, is to sit on our patio in the evening and talk, sip something, watch the passing deer, and linger until we're ready to drop into bed. Most times, the topic of conversation is pleasant but unremarkable: current farm happenings, what the kids (far and near) are up to, how the neighbors are faring, religion, politics, etc.
But last weekend, the talk turned to relationships.
In particular, our personal relationships: the one with each other and, even more interestingly, the ones in our respective pasts. Until this moment in time (Friday, July 24th, 2009), we had only cursorily dealt with prior loves (and we've been together for almost 16 years). So, it was pretty momentous.
Heady from our evening of verbal intimacy, the next day we were working on the gables of the barn. Hubby was on the ladder about 20 feet up and I chose that time to ask him a little more about our recent breakthrough convo.
"So, Honey, what did you think about last night?"
"NOT NOW, Honey! I'm on the ladder!"
Oh, gotcha. Sorry!
Here's hoping for another opportunity before 16 more years pass.
dear ms liz,
ReplyDeleteThat moment was GOLDEN.
I am quite glad you did not read into it too much, as you looked up to see a view of the sky and his behind.
Some wives may have interpreted that classic 'ladder' excuse for
"she can not know about the Belgian twins hitchhiking in Kiev"-kind of 'not now'.
But you know better :)
Dear Warren,
ReplyDeleteYes, after all these years, I do know better. I'm still learning about the male of the species, though, all the time! It's quite fascinating, really.
Thanks for your comments! I enjoy them and am glad that you seem to enjoy the blog.
Dear Lady Liz,
ReplyDeleteYou are quite welcome (for my remarks).
I've made it this year's resolution to have an internet vacation; no internet / no blogging for a week or so.
You yourself are not consistent in your blogging- make people wonder if it is worth coming back.
THEN I realized today: this is it! This is how, decades ago, people wrote back or had letters sent to them- that is, DAYS LATER. not "an hour ago" or "a day ago", like in Twitter.
But I actually liked the thought that about four or so days ago someone wrote, and I am only now reading it- AS IF a horse carriage finally arrived; your smudged envelope, from a man's satchel, handed to me.
So, I hope that you blog as rarely as you do; I hope that you read this by next week. And I shall comment as late as I can. You and your husband are my only link to an invisible horse carriage.
'til next time, my Lady of Clarinda.
Warren,
young earl of wrigleyville