Wrinkly Bits
A Blog by Gail Cushman
When Cowboy and I started hanging out together, we decided having Friday night dates, without fail, interruptions, or excuses, was a good thing. At 80 + years old, we could be balancing on borrowed time, and next Friday might could be a wash, kaput, nuttin’ at all. We religiously set Friday night apart from any other potential activities and consider it time to ourselves. Now, it’s in our genes. Friday night. Date. Period.
Cody, the Wonder Dog, sits by the door on Friday nights at about 4:00, waiting to go with us, which is surprising because he doesn’t know his name most days, but somehow has learned to tell time. On Fridays. The local restaurant staff says, “It must be Friday,” when they see us coming and bring us our adult beverages before we even ask. The car and its electronic gizmos set the destination for the 307, our local bar and grill, and we don’t have to plug in the address. It nearly self-drives to the 307 Bar & Grill. Kinda like the horse returning to the barn. It seems everybody is in tune with our Friday Night Date. The car also pre-sets our route to church on Sunday mornings. Talk about a nag.
The Friday night dates allow us to toss our everyday clothes in the dirty clothes basket, and put on something spiffy, like clean jeans, unstained Carhartt shirts, and I can change from my white tennis shoes to my gray ones. Cowboy, too, wearing his ironed Levis and a shirt without a Carhartt pocket.
So now, I am thinking are we in a rut? Should we shock everyone and change to a Wednesday afternoon at 2:15 date? Or quit going to restaurants and start eating gas-station food, you know, stale-looking hot dogs, overcooked burritos, or undercooked French fries. We’ve eaten plenty of those on our trips around the country. They don’t fill us up, are loaded with bad things like carbs and unknown additives. I might as well paste them to my thighs and save the middle-man digestion process.
We have done other things than eating on our Friday night dates, like rodeos and concerts, although dining out seems to be the most popular, mostly because A. we have to eat and B. neither of us gets that jacked up about cooking anymore. C. I need a good salad. Some days PB & J would fill the bill, but somehow it reminds me of my childhood, so I’m nixing that idea.
The whole point of our going on a Friday night date is to do something away from the hum-drum of life, television and yard work. Writing. Repairing or upgrading the Far West. Going somewhere that requires us to dress up a bit, enjoy a real conversation, and make only small decisions, like what kind of white salad dressing do you prefer? Blue Cheese or Ranch. Tonight we are going to Jakes. We will share a meal, I’ll have a glass of wine, maybe two, and head home. It’s routine, but we like it. Last week was Edgar Bar, the week before we were on the road, but chose Ransom’s in Montgomery, Texas.
If you are older or younger than 80, ask someone, a spouse or friend, for a Friday night date and keep asking until your tongue doesn’t wag anymore. You won’t regret it.
Stay tuned for my new book…Marrying Montana…all about Friday Night Dates and Other Stuff. Coming sooooon!
