Just Write {3}

Mr. C. joined me for lunch today. We went to The Bistro, a little restaurant that is run by the Culinary Arts & Hospitality programs here at Yukon College where I work. The menu this week is East Indian, and loving curry the way we do, we couldn’t pass it up. I love this little bistro. The walls are rich golden yellow, like the mane of a lion, and beautifully display the work of local artists, so that everywhere you look you are surrounded by beauty. The furniture is dark, the chairs are cushioned, the waiters are attentive and dressed impeccably in black and white. There are only two things on the menu, and the menu changes every 2 weeks. It’s open by reservation on Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. The culinary arts students run the kitchen, and the hospitality students run the dining room. I love supporting the students in this endeavor. And honestly, you can’t get better downtown. You just can’t. They also make the best coffee. I think I drank a whole pot. I’m fighting a cold, and the caffeine has now got me quite alert and upright in my chair. I hope it will see me through the rest of the afternoon, because all I want to do when I get home is put on my jammies and curl up into the corner of the couch with the TV and my knitting.

I love going out for lunch with Mr. C. It doesn’t matter that we’ve been married for over 32 years. It doesn’t matter that we go to sleep and wake up together. All that intimacy of living together doesn’t change the fact that when we are away from the house and out of our routine we have the best conversations ever. The best. We talk about all kinds of things. Today we talked about some of the things we look forward to doing after retirement: researching & making recipes for all manner of ethnic foods; spending afternoons on the boat and exploring the hiking & mountain biking trails in the Shuswap area. I talked about what I will miss when I leave my job at Yukon College (the institution is doing great things, with more great things coming and I’m sorry I won’t be a part of it) and he talked about how busy his summer is looking to be at the flight school. I talked about suddenly wanting/needing to do one more dance performance before we move. We talked non-stop for an entire hour between bites – enjoying the good food, good coffee, good service and each other’s good company. This always happens when we go out on a date. After 32 years we still love spending time together. After 32 years we still haven’t run out of things to talk about. And the best part? I know that we never will.

This is my 3rd installment of Just Write, an exercise in free writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments. I am linking up with The Extraordinary Ordinary. (Please see the details here.)

Just Write {2}

When I step out of the car, the wind takes my breath away. I fumble with my hood, but the closure is too tight, so I yank my right mitten off with my teeth and unzip my coat a bit. Holy Freaking gawd, it’s cold. I can’t get the hood up with one hand, so get back into the car. A blast of snowy wind rocks the car as, with two hands finally free, I manage to pull my hood up and re-zip my coat. Leaving my things behind for a minute, I step out of the car again and immediately turn my back to the wind. I take two side-steps to the back door, get the extension cord out and move quickly to plug the car in. This part isn’t too bad as my back is to the wind and I’ve left the engine running so the headlights shine onto the electrical outlet mounted on the post that I’ve parked in front of. At least I can see what I’m doing. 

The college parking lot is full this morning – it always is when the temperature drops into “cold spell” ranges – and I have had to park at the very back of the lot. I suppose that’s good…extra steps and all that, but this morning I could do without them. Finally, clutching my insulated coffee cup to my chest with one hand and gripping my purse with the other, I begin the trek to the building.

The world is a cozy muffled place inside my hood. The snow strikes the fabric over my right ear with a deceptively soft patter that reminds me a bit of rain on an umbrella, but by the time I get to the building, my shins are stinging and burning with cold. It’s an odd sensation to have a warm torso and warm feet but be nearly frostbitten in  a single area the width of my hand, just below the knees.  I need a much longer coat. Or maybe after 27 years in the Yukon I should buy some snow pants.

I am taking my coat off when my coworker comes stomping in, face red with cold and hair disheveled. “Bloody god-forsaken country,” she mumbles not so quietly. We laugh. And really, it’s only -28o c. Hardly cold at all.

 

Linking up today with the free-writing exercise over at the Extraordinary Ordinary .