*Note* I don't think my grammar (*cough* proofreading) could have been any more offensive in this post. For once, I wasn't too lazy to fix it. Old post or not!
The Targo has been really busy these past few weeks. I mean, he's been home, so I've gotten to see him. However, he's working like a madman on his dissertation. Which is good. Very good. I, on the other hand, have not been busy. Rather, I've succumbed to a grand case of the lazies. You'll find me on the papasan, cuddled up with one or two black and white cats.
Other than dinner, we haven't had much time to talk. I've been going to bed while The Targo works. I get up and leave for work while he's eating breakfast. Two ships in the night.
The other night, around nine o'clock, The Targo came up for air. "Let's go to Dunkin' Donuts." Now, normal young(ish) couples would probably head to the wine bar across the street or a cute pub or something. But we? We are square.
During the spring and summer of 2006, The Targo and I spent at least one night a week at Dunkin' Donuts. Besides consuming a hideous amount of calories, we'd talk for hours. In between sips and bites, we planned our wedding there.
When we were there the other night, we were both nostalgic. I feel so fortunate that The Targo was my partner in that process. I didn't do any of the planning on my own. We were a team and it turned out to be the wedding of both of our dreams.
'Tis funny, isn't it, when a stupid little thing like a cup of decaf French vanilla coffee can really warm and soothe your spirit?