Such a Late Night

Such a late night
gonna drive you home
a quiet ride
there's blood on the road
and blood on your face
I'm gonna cry, cry
Why didn't you brake?
Did you even try?
--Nina Nastasia, Late Night



I can't help but love Nina Nastasia's song writing. It's so simple and direct and visual, and genius. But then when you add in her voice, it's as euphoric as drinking a fine wine, or chocolate milk. Ahh, music.

So I promised Andrew I would write a blog about the date we had the other night. It involves Harry Potter, a raccoon, and fajitas. Take a guess which one we had for dinner!

Since Andrew got his job as a line cook at Olive Garden six months ago, we've barely had one night off together a week. Somewhere along the line, they managed to allow both of us Monday's off. Only seeing your partner one day a week makes you realize, over time, how important it is to be on your best behavior as far as patience and thankfulness go. You know, virtues and whatnot. So this past Monday we planned a special dinner and movie. Well Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows was really only special to me, but Andrew played along. He was happy to take me to a movie where I had lots and lots of nerdgasms, because he thinks my nerdiness is cute and wants me to have his nerd babies. Ahem. Anyway, we planned to have home made fajitas after the movie, so beforehand, we marinated the steak, cut up the garlic, red bell pepper, avocado and onion a girl could hope for, and let it sit while we boarded the Hogwarts Express to the land of badass magical duels. Andrew also had the idea to take me to a campsite just a mile east of where we live, to show me the pretty spot along the path he'd found the other night.

Well when I hear the word "path", I don't think of climbing. And when I hear the word path, and it is regarding something I'm going to be following after midnight with only a flashlight the size of pen to provide light, I will admit I especially dislike the idea of climbing. And yet, after we'd packed our ziplocks and satchel with as much fajita goodness, guacamole, and sour cream as they'd carry, we set off onto the mountain path, only to stop at a specific side, perfect, according to Andrew, for climbing. Mind you, I am in some beat up old chucks that are far more like socks than shoes, and of course, a skirt. He bounded up the rocks like a spider monkey, barely bothering to shine any light on where he was going, to prove how easy it was. Yeah, easy for him. He can sleep in trees. But he took my hand and shined the light at every solid foothold, and I begrudgingly followed along, clutching my skirt up to my thighs so as not to step on it and de-skirt myself, and latching onto every poor little tree along the way. A few minutes and several dozen cuss words later, we arrived at a flat stretch of stone and perched. The view was amazing. From where we sat, we faced a small clearing in the treetops, with the bright moon hanging perfectly in the center. We were completely bathed in the silence and moonlight. I was also still pretty traumatized and pissed from climbing rocks in the dark in those terrible old shoes, so I wasn't quite able to appreciate it all immediately. But once I had a few of those delicious fajitas, I mellowed out.

And then there was a rustling. Oh yes, a rustling. Quiet, though it was, it got our attention. Andrew grabbed the light and aimed it right into two beady raccoon eyes, just feet away from our picnic. Now let me give you a prime and authentic example of the difference between Andrew and I. I gasped, and exclaimed "Oh shit!" at the sight of the creature's shiny evil eyes. This is mostly because about a year ago, a raccoon tried to eat my foot, and I have not been able to warm back up to the species since, because they are hungry, desperate little devils that find me delicious. Andrew, on the other hand, has never been turned into a raccoon treat, but knowing that I have, he lunged right into defense mode. He stomped towards it, thrust his arms in the air and yelled "RAAAAWWRRR!!!!!" The raccoon ran straight down the mountainside in terror. And to make sure he knew he wasn't welcome, Andrew watched it with the light and tossed rocks at it for about five minutes straight until it was out of sight. It was glorious.

Nothing especially interesting happened after that, except the climb back down, and the only interesting thing about it was that my pinkie toe poked out of a hole in my shoe. All in all, I'd say it was a pretty good date night. Even as scared and frustrated as I was during the dark climb, I was happy to have Andrew's hand to hold the whole way up. It felt symbolic of all we've been through during our time together, with my being terrified of trusting life, fearing a lot of pain and broken limbs, only to find myself safe and surrounded by beauty with the one who loves me. Yes, it was a very good night, and I must say once again, this is a very good life.

Abtoo Deetoo