A while back Derek and I did a kind of date exchange. He got to pick the activities for one date, and a couple weeks later I got to choose.
We're a pretty religious dinner-and-a-movie couple, so this kind of thing constitutes us showing our daring and adventurous side. Although in our defense, a meal away from the kids is just about the most awesome thing ever at this point. Neither of us has to cut up anyone's food. We get to sit down and stay seated throughout the entire meal. We're not constantly interrupted by arguments like "I bet I could eat that whole pan of enchiladas." "No, you couldn't." "Yes, I could." "No, you couldn't." "YES I COULD." "WELL YOU'RE ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS WRONG." "I DON'T EVEN CARE BECAUSE I CAN'T HEAR YOU BECAUSE I PUT REALLY REALLY FLUFFY BIRDS IN MY EARS SO THAT I NEVER HAVE TO HEAR YOU SO THERE."
Just in case you're curious, that was our lunchtime conversation today.
So, yes. A meal that's overlaid with intelligent adult conversation and that contains drinks only spilled by me is simply delightful right now.
For our date exchange, however, we went a little outside the norm for date night (don't kid yourself, though, we still went out to eat. You did read that paragraph up there, right?). Derek chose golf. Derek loves to golf, and goes either by himself or with the boys whenever he can, but the last time he and I went together was in the sweltering humidity of Florida while I was in my first nauseous trimester of pregnancy with Adelaide. It was miserable, although I did see an alligator on the course. At least I think it was an alligator; I can never remember what the difference is between crocs and gators. Anyone have a useful acronym or something that would help me out? Wait... do we even have crocs in North America, or are those just kind of an Australia-thing? And how painfully obvious is it that the sum total of my croc-knowledge comes from the movie Crocodile Dundee?
Our first golf outing there in Florida was so successful we didn't repeat it for eight years.
Raise your hand if you think you know how this is going to turn out.
Well, you're wrong! (At least, I'm guessing you're wrong. This whole blogging thing is great for some things, but it's kind of a one-way street. I guess you could leave a comment and let me know how you thought it was going to turn out. Or not.)
We actually ended up having a great time. Derek quite literally played the best round of his life, and I enjoyed myself way more than I thought would be possible- and that's paying attention to the game; I only read three pages of the book I brought! (I should probably explain that I didn't golf, I just rode along while Derek did, although if you know me at all this little aside is completely unnecessary.)
As for my half of the exchange, I chose to go see Matthew Bourne's Sleeping Beauty at the Des Moines Civic Center. One of my favorite parts actually happened a few days before the performance itself; I mentioned something in passing to Derek about the date, and it turned out Derek thought Sleeping Beauty was a musical; he had no idea we were going to the ballet. The mixture of chagrin and resignation on his face was priceless.
The ballet itself was beautiful if a little unusual. I'd read up on Bourne a bit before we went and knew that his interpretation of this ballet was a bit gothic, but I really started to worry when we got there and the playbill described it as "a mix between Twilight and Downton Abbey." Um, what? It ended up being much better than that terrible description, although I definitely felt for the parents who brought their little girls all dressed up in Disney's Sleeping Beauty costumes, because with its fairy/vampire corps and unorthodox ending, this was no Disney production.
That's right, I said fairy/vampires. I don't even really know how to describe it, but the lead vampire... fairy... guy...well, he was fantastic (let's see, it looks like his character is Count Lilac, because of course I still have the playbill), as was the young lady playing Princess Aurora, and the choreography was fresh and really lovely. I enjoyed myself immensely, and Derek didn't fall asleep. I'm actually not giving him enough credit: Derek is an excellent sport about attending the ballet every so often and listens attentively as I critique all the minutiae of the production afterward.
Golf and ballet- they go together like ham and chocolate, peanut butter and pesto, Richard Simmons and Colin Powell. (I don't even know what I'm talking about anymore. I was trying to think of opposites and things that just don't go together, and Richard Simmons popped into my head. I would apologize, but I'm being overcome by the urge to do Sweatin, With the Oldies. Don't hate, that stuff is fun.)
Clearly we belong together.