Frissons

{ Soho ceiling | NYC }

Today was one of those suprisingly comforting wintry gray days in the city—when the weather is a bit dreary but there's a certain electricity in the air that makes you feel all warm and cheery inside. The huge red and white-tented holiday fair I passed in Union Square before a worksession for a side project I'm dabbling in may have contributed to the cheer, but regardless, one of my favorite kinds of days, weather wise.

After I finished up I met R for an impromptu, late afternoon drink at Pipa, a low-key, yet sexy and shadowy winebar attached to ABC Home. There's something to be said for spontaneity. Especially with your spouse.

We hadn't planned to meet up, but I finished early and he was nearby and voilà, a chance glass of Pinot Noir with my husband. I arrived a few minutes before him and set myself up at a farmhouse table under a ceiling full of chandeliers with my book, phone, and a glass of wine tantalizingly nearby. I was completely absorbed and didn't realize R arrived until he was right next to me: tall, dark and handsome and for a moment I forgot he was all mine. 

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We get so caught up in our day-to-day foolishness: work and bills and laundry and dishes and Facebook/Twitter/Instagram/Google Reader and family obligations and visa/citizenship paperwork and finishing the damn newspaper before the weekend is over that we aren't nearly as good as we should be at making time for each other. 

We never really "dated" because our courtship spanned 4 years and this big thing called the Atlantic. Whenever we were together we were completely together because we reunited on vacation somewhere new (or with at least one of us taking vacation to visit the other), so making time to meet up for a drink or dinner or a weekend away in the course of our normal life before marriage only happened for a few days every 3 - 4 months. 

At home we're always tempted away by our phones or chores after a long day at work that the idea of grabbing the other for a kiss or focusing completely on what the other is saying without our eyes wandering to a flashing light doesn't happen nearly as much as it should, but when we're out and ourselves (and not the dish-washer or clothes-folder or floor-sweeper or dinner-maker) we get to be flirtatious and charming and completely engrossed in the other.  

We either need to get better at being ourselves at home or steal more moments away because those moments? They are thoroughly thrilling.