Scandalous
Oh, fine: there wasn't anything overly improper or titillating about our date tonight. But then again, it wasn't exactly holding hands in church.
After a harried couple of weeks, I decided that Trey and I could use another just-us night, so I called for a babysitter earlier this week. And then never quite got around to actually planning anything.
So the sitter arrived and tried mightily to engage the kiddos while Trey and I played a rousing game of date-night Pong. That's when we lob the questions "What do you want to do?" and "I don't know; what do you want to do?" back and forth at each other until someone finally sacrifices a point and offers up an option. Said option may be rejected outright, at which point the game resumes. Sometimes, I am so sorry to say, there is pouting.
Well, bickering while the clock ticks not only gets date night off on the wrong foot entirely, it also means that the babysitter is actually being paid to watch us watch the kids. That seemed silly, so we kissed our brood good-night and headed out the door. Trey steered the car toward... well, somewhere.
"Somewhere" turned out to be an old stand-by, West Village. We grabbed a movie menu at the resident theatre, then settled into a booth at the wine-centric Cru. After some grown-up conversation with grown-up beverages, Pong became a distant memory.
The movie selections this evening offered us two basic genre choices: war or infidelity. A tough call. Over my seafood linguine and his sea bass, we flipped a coin and landed on Notes on a Scandal.
Consulting the clock, we decided that we had just enough time before the movie to share some chocolate fondue. Good thing we did: there was nothing sweet about this film. Tense and taut and tragic, yes. Compelling and a little bit creepy. (Dame Judi Dench in the nude? Shudder.) Racy and darkly comic in parts. Marvelously acted by absolutely everyone.
Lots to think about and talk about as we stood in line at the valet stand. And totally surreal, we agreed, to then get in the car and hear John Legend croon "P.D.A. (We Just Don't Care)."
So we switched tracks to "Save Room." And date night was saved. Scandal averted.
After a harried couple of weeks, I decided that Trey and I could use another just-us night, so I called for a babysitter earlier this week. And then never quite got around to actually planning anything.
So the sitter arrived and tried mightily to engage the kiddos while Trey and I played a rousing game of date-night Pong. That's when we lob the questions "What do you want to do?" and "I don't know; what do you want to do?" back and forth at each other until someone finally sacrifices a point and offers up an option. Said option may be rejected outright, at which point the game resumes. Sometimes, I am so sorry to say, there is pouting.
Well, bickering while the clock ticks not only gets date night off on the wrong foot entirely, it also means that the babysitter is actually being paid to watch us watch the kids. That seemed silly, so we kissed our brood good-night and headed out the door. Trey steered the car toward... well, somewhere.
"Somewhere" turned out to be an old stand-by, West Village. We grabbed a movie menu at the resident theatre, then settled into a booth at the wine-centric Cru. After some grown-up conversation with grown-up beverages, Pong became a distant memory.
The movie selections this evening offered us two basic genre choices: war or infidelity. A tough call. Over my seafood linguine and his sea bass, we flipped a coin and landed on Notes on a Scandal.
Consulting the clock, we decided that we had just enough time before the movie to share some chocolate fondue. Good thing we did: there was nothing sweet about this film. Tense and taut and tragic, yes. Compelling and a little bit creepy. (Dame Judi Dench in the nude? Shudder.) Racy and darkly comic in parts. Marvelously acted by absolutely everyone.
Lots to think about and talk about as we stood in line at the valet stand. And totally surreal, we agreed, to then get in the car and hear John Legend croon "P.D.A. (We Just Don't Care)."
So we switched tracks to "Save Room." And date night was saved. Scandal averted.
posted by mrsf5 at 12:57 AM
2 Comments:
My grandfather invented that software with Ralph Bauer at Sanders. True. I'm not sure why he doesn't get credit or his name is not on the patent, but my mom and her siblings were the first kids in American to test the prototype in the 1960s. He did a bunch of other government inventions during the Cold War through Sanders.
Pong is a big legacy in our family. :)
Date night? Such a simple concept, but sometimes so hard for us (husbands and wives) to understand that you need, need, need time together to remember why you have these children that take up your every minute. I'm glad you had an evening out. Really glad that you are enjoying the fantasy inducing (for me) song stylings of John Legend. I swain.
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