Innocent Husband and I went on a bike ride.

He had an inelegant small crash and left skin from his elbow on the pavement. He said bad words.

The arthritis in my hands screamed at me, “WE ARE NEVER BIKING AGAIN, CATHY, NEVER.”

My butt and Innocent Husband’s butt both really hurt and I told him that I did not want a “cool-looking” bike anymore but a pretty blue bike with a huge flowered seat and a basket in front so I could bring lemonade, cookies, and my kindle on our future bike rides.

He rolled his eyes at me and I did not run him over when he did that because I am serious about that pretty blue bike and flowered basket.

We had to stop at a bench and “take a load off” because we were tired. He put his arm around me and we felt like two, old, long-married people watching the world ride by. We laughed at that.

When we were sufficiently rested from our adventure we creaked up, bones protesting, and hobbled back over to the bikes to finish our ride.

We had a great time. I told him he looked pretty darn cute.

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