Get Me To The Church On Time

It was a night full of memories.  Hubby and I had just been to a big church wedding, which was absolutely nothing like our own wedding many decades ago, but still, it was a joyous event, and joyous events make the SJG a tad nostalgic.  I prefer a joyous event over a crappy sad one, but maybe that's just me.  The late afternoon nuptials didn't include a nosh-o-rama, so the SJG and hubby high-tailed it out of the church and headed south toward a little town called Encino.  We can no longer remember names of restaurants, so it was challenging.  "Let's go to that fish place," hubby said. "Which one?"  "Del... something."  "I love that place."  "Where is it?"  "Somewhere on Ventura." So we drove a while, in our usual carefree style.  "Stop!" I yelled.  "You just passed it."  It's true, I'm a gifted navigator, just like my daddy, who guided airplanes in WWII. 

We hadn't been to Delmonico's in decades.  "Why haven't we been here in 20 years?" I asked hubby, before the alcohol kicked in.  "I have no idea," he said.  Hubby isn't big on the details.  Why would he remember such a thing, unless we had an incident at the fish restaurant and were told never to return.  That, he would've remembered.  Of course, there had been an incident at Delmonico's, one involving me.  "See that big table in the corner?" I said, pointing rudely at a large group of diners.  "We sat there with our friends.  Some are still married."  Hubby nodded.  The evening was coming back to him.  "I was wearing this pretty turtleneck sweater... it was sea foam... and I loved it so much.  I'd just bought it at the temple Hanukkah bazaar."  Hubby stared me.  "How do you even remember that?"  "I'm a little stuck in the past.  Plus, I spilled red wine all over it."  (The afore-mentioned incident.)  The SJG is a spiller.  Have I ever afore-mentioned that?  Well, I am.  I spill sometimes.  "I was so upset that I'd ruined my pretty sea-foam sweater, but somehow I got it out."  "You Shouted it out," he said.  "Or I used a little Woolite.  Woolite is a miracle worker."  "Tell me about it." When you've been married as long as we have, these are the things you talk about.  Stain removal options. 

Later on, a young couple arrived with two young troublemakers and sat across from us.  They hadn't even put their napkins on their laps when the the older son, a spunky three-year-old, took off running.  It was adorable.  Hubby and I smiled at each other.  We have so many wonderful memories of chasing our sons through restaurants, markets, stores, malls, amusement parks, airports, stadiums.  Oh, the list goes on and on.  Our eldest son, till he reached puberty, preferred to dine under the table in restaurants.  That was a fun, prolonged stage.

When we got up to leave Delmonico's, we went over to talk to the young couple, who seemed a little stressed, parentally.  "We have two sons," hubby said.  "They're 20 and 24 now," I chimed in, to reassure the young couple that our boys had survived toddlerhood, more or less in tact, and so had we.  "Does it get any easier?" the husband asked.  "No," I said.  "It doesn't."  Perhaps not the hoped-for answer.  The poor guy started to weep, uncontrollably.  I looked at the wife.  "Get them busy with sports as early as possible.  You have to run them like dogs.  Do anything to get the energy out of their systems."  She smiled at me, gratefully.  The husband wiped his tears on the tablecloth.  "Thanks."

In the car, I said, "It's fun to help others."  Hubby agreed.  "They have no idea what they're in for."  Although, we may have given them a slight preview.