Now that we have the time and the money, we are too exhausted for date nights and travel. Life is so cruel that way.
We have been busy all summer and this fall. However the exhaustion did not stop us from going to Denver last night for dinner and a concert.
Deciding on a place to eat and drink is always a struggle in Brad's head. So after Brad argues with himself on the final destination, we head for a burger and a beer. Selfie pictures are a necessity for our outings and you would think Brad would just resign himself to comply. The picture with Brad's eyes closed was the first picture ... if only he would play along. So it was determined a shot and a beer were needed to bring out that Donny Osmond smile.
Every time we go out, Brad insists on parking far and walking even though he knows I prefer curb service. He parks and tells me we are 3 blocks west of the restaurant and 3 blocks east of the Paramount and I believe him. After 32 years I should know better. He fibs about the location and distance in an effort to get me to exercise. Naturally I counted the blocks and sure enough I had to walk 6 and not 3 blocks to the Paramount with 2 very steep hills. I make Brad tow rope me up without the rope. He got his panties in a twist and said that is the difference between us he likes to walk and I do not. I told him I can live with that difference.
America (Band) did not disappoint. We unsurprisingly were on the younger side and surprisingly the vocals of Gerry and Dewey were spot on. Because these men are old and exhausted, they started promptly at 7pm and ran thru their set list in order to get us in bed at a normal hour. Gerry and Dewey were throwing picks out like people throwing candy from a parade float. Their encore was their iconic song Horse with No Name and when they finished singing, they threw their final guitar pick. That pick hit me squarely in the middle of my forehead. Brad was disappointed I did not catch the pick meanwhile I was thankful the pick did not put out my eyeball. Both Brad and the guy behind me were using their phones to try and locate the pick to no avail.
Brad and I drove back home in exhaustion and I went upstairs to put on my jammies since it was an hour past my bedtime. As I took of my top, low and behold there was the pick tucked into my bosom with the rounded side peeking out for someone to take. I yelled to Brad that the pick was in my boobs. He ran upstairs saying, "Do not take the pick out because I want to see", Once he saw the pick safely tucked in, he start laughing and said, "Thank god for your big boobs!".
The morale of the story, Gerry Beckley knows where a pick belongs and how to get it there.