A. has been in California for a week for work. He’s there with a buddy of his — they’re on a project together and had to gather research from the Marines. He’s stuck till tonight — if not longer — since all flights into Washington National were canceled yesterday because D.C. got more than two feet of snow in what people are calling “The Great Blizzard of 2010.”
Anyway, A. and his buddy went on a hike in Joshua Tree last week, and his buddy asked him what A. and I do during the week. A. said: “Well, we go climbing… and sometimes I chase her around my apartment.” A. and I both laughed when he told me this story — it’s not something you readily say to people. His buddy was slightly disturbed because he said it reminded him of his parents, who still flirt like teenagers and grab each other.
But I think it’s wonderful: There is something hilarious and magical and unencumbered in “the chase.” One of the nights it happened, A. and I were playing chess on his round leather ottoman, and he said something snarky and I went to grab him and he jumped up and tried to get away, and before you know it, we were literally running circles around the ottoman and then around the kitchen and I was laughing hysterically like a four-year-old until we both collapsed in a dizzy, happy spell.