Date Night

Tonight is my turn for date night--and the pressure is on!!

Last week my husband really pulled out all the stops. For days he planned. I’d walk up to him on the computer and he’d shield the screen and say, “Go away, go away!” Hummm… “Do you know where your Sorrels are? Where our big coats are? Where the crampons are?”

Ok, so now bells were going off in my head and I was getting nervous. Let me explain my husband. He’s kinda nuts—in a great sort of way. He is they type of guy who will “go for a run” and come back an hour, two hours later—having just polished off eleven thousand miles. He and a friend climbed the Grand Tetons—I went fishing. He and our son spent two weeks “bagging fourteeners” in Colorado—my daughter and I stayed at home, ate junk food and had a Gilmore Girl marathon.

And now he was talking about crampons??? But he was soooo excited. Well, thankfully he decided crampons weren’t necessary. Neither were the snowshoes. And I was “going to love it.”

So off we headed, dressed like snowmen, with multiple layers, a blanket, flashlight, and thermos full of hot chocolate plus. Oh, did I mention it was night? We went to the summit of Mt. Rose Highway—just shy of 9,000 feet, parked in the very empty parking lot, and headed off into the sunset—no wait, there was no sun. We headed off in the dark.

Now, I was trying to be a good wife. He had put so much into our date night. He was soooo excited. So I tromped behind him as we started over the giant snowdrift onto the snow path…that went in the general direction of the regular path (which we had been on in the summer). Then it went off in a random direction. Still, I followed—up over the ridge; along the ridge past random lumps of topography and onward! There was a crescent moon, so we could see in a weird kind of wintery-shadowy way.

Meanwhile I am quietly freaking out. We’re going to get lost. We’re going to die. There are wild animals watching. What was he thinking???? Does he even know me??? We’ve been married thirty years, how could he possibly think this could bless me. Quietly, silently, freaking out.

Finally, we stopped. We reached our destination—a view of Lake Tahoe, the stars, Carson City in the distance. Okay, it was really pretty, and the night really wasn’t that cold. I was toasty in my multiple layers. He laid the blanket on the snow and we sat down to enjoy the view and the yummy hot chocolate. (Although I didn’t have much because I didn’t want my senses impaired and stumble blindly into the wilderness, never to be found.)

We eventually made it back to the car—no wrong turns, no mishaps. But I kind of…well…okay, true confessions. I lost it. I started with “What the hell were you thinking?” and went from there. My tirade lasted a minute or so, then we got in the car and both started laughing. On the way down the hill he said, “I love it when you get feisty!”

Can you see why I love him so much?

Well, the rest of the night we laughed about our adventure, went out to a great restaurant, and, you know, had a great night.

Now, I ask you? How am I going to top that?

Maybe we’ll go bowling…