My husband and I are enjoying a weekend alone. Our teenagers have been sent far away to visit grandparents and we are listening to the silence. And loving the fact that our car is safely in the garage instead of out being driven God-knows-where at all hours of the night.
I'm still sticking to my 'I'm-drumming-up-the-courage-to-walk-a-marathon' training schedule and the summer weather in Maine has been quite cooperative. Except for the humidity, of course, but we won't go there.
This morning I asked my husband if he wanted to go walking with me, as today is a short/slow day (3 miles). He hemmed and hawed and said he might. And then I reminded him that he went walking with me last month on my birthday. In fact, when it's my birthday, he'll go to great lengths to do just about any and everything my little heart desires. He would walk through fire for me ON THAT DAY. The rest of the year? Not so much. I mean, he's always very sweet and accommodating, but he's not going to do much that he doesn't want to do.
Unless it's my birthday.
So when I asked him a second time if he'd go with me, I added the little nudge... "Remember my birthday? Let's pretend it's THAT day again."
As he begrudgingly puts on his sneakers, I could remind him that I'm only doing this for his own good. I mean, how else will I get him to exercise unless I use bribery and guilt?
Yeah, I'm sure THAT will get him revved up about walking three miles.
Happy Birthday to me.
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