Lunch Break

Thirty-four years of marriage is a miracle, says our son. ‘They should put you in a museum.’ He should know. He’s been around for most of it.

Everything has its point and counterpoint, though. Today I reveled in the counterpoint. I took a lunch break from Stanley.

He took a break from me, too. For thirty-four years, I have lived with a man who has requested to be placed in a closet filled to the brim with M&M’s during his last moments on earth. That wouldn’t even be in my top one thousand. It might even be toward the very bottom, or on that list of things I would never do ever. Ever.

So, there are moments in our lives when Stanley must go to the all-you-can-eat Pizza buffet and I must not. On those exquisite days, I grill me up a  sharp-cheddar cheese sandwich on sourdough, garnish with organic local fruit from the farmer’s market and sit outside to enjoy.

When Stanley came home, I asked him which Pizza he liked best. He made some mumble-y pleasure noises and said that he had eaten too many types to choose just one. I was feeling pretty good, too.

Happy day to you.


10 thoughts on “Lunch Break

  1. Hmmm. I spent a good deal of time on Colombian buses with Marsha and Stanley when they were still pretty new on this journey. They took in stride things like entertaining dinner guests who missed the last bus home from the pueblito outside Bogota and ended up staying the night. Stanley demonstrated some particulars of bus etiquette (pickpockets) that I still marvel at… Yes, Victor, they DO belong in a museum, but for all the right reasons. Must go out and begin stocking up on M&Ms.


  2. Terry & I have been married 37 years and in December will have known each other 39 years. We rarely eat lunch together. Terry eats at 12 noon straight up; I eat whenever I feel like it. Dinner time, though, we sit down together. Always have, always will.


  3. Twelve noon, on the clock, “When are going to eat.” I didn’t know any better then and fixed lunch for two. Soup and sandwich, soup and sandwich. Some times leftover’s but not much. Going out to lunch was “Burger King.” On the road it was “Burger King.” I now crave for “Burger King.”
    Good night to all.


  4. On those days where the good wife deems fit to let my daughter and I go to the store unattended, we usually slip over to the imported cheese case to procure the perfect wedge of imported brie cheese. Then it’s off to the bakery for the warmest, softest loaf of sourdough french bread. As we enjoy slices of bread smothered with buttery brie cheese, we nod to one another that life doesn’t get much better than this. Then we agree that unlike cheese, french bread doesn’t get better with age, so we resolve to finsh the entire loaf in one setting for the “greater good”.

    I’ll dine with you anytime. It sounds lovely. Yumm!


  5. We are in favor of sharing meals, on our days off from work. Fortunately, one of us is flexible about eating what is served (or cooking what the other would enjoy). Also, where we live there are few eating out options within 30 min. Then again, there are all those veggies that we just picked (trying our first ears of corn for the season just ten paces from the door).


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