Damon and I haven’t been married long — just over a year. But we’ve been together for four years.
We’re really hitting that point now where our communication is becoming at least a little bit telepathic. We’re having more of those conversations. “Did you see… ?” “I did! But was the… ?” “Yes!”
A few days ago we were invited to dinner at our neighbors’ apartment. It was a lovely spread. Dinner was a pureed root soup — mostly parsnips and carrots, a bibb lettuce (my favorite) salad with a very light honey mustard dressing, and then a mushroom stroganoff. As you might hve guessed, our host was Russian. We even had a lovely important Russian beer. But before all that we had an appetizer of cod liver pate mixed with caviar on toast points. Now, I enjoy some caviar — it was the big pearly kind rather than the little dotty kind. But the cod liver was just a little… too… much. So there I was in their tiny kitchen with them. I’d just praised the cod liver, right before I decided I couldn’t eat it. What to do?
For one millisecond they both had their backs turned at the same time. All I had to do was lightly elbow Damon and that toast point was out of my hand and just gone. GONE. They turned back around and there he was with a big smile, nodding, innocent. Seriously, that toast point with cod liver pate and caviar was down his gullet in less than one breath’s time.
