"San Diego doesn't have weather," David said, not for the first time.
"I know, but wouldn't it be nice...I mean, why should we wait to relax until we have no other options? When we return home, after we catch up of course, I want to do this ."
"It won't happen," sighed David. "There's always work to be done, you always manage to pack the calendar tight."
"Well, I'm sick of waiting until I can't take any more and am forced, in a desperate attempt to maintain my sanity, to high-tail it out of town for some R and R. I think...no, I know that we should schedule some 'snow days.'"
"And how do you plan to do that?" David picked his letter tiles and handed me the bag.
"We'll turn off our phone, we won't answer the door, and we'll turn the air conditioner on so it gets really, really cold. We can put sheets on the windows to filter the light so it looks like the sky is gray instead of sunny and blue. Then we'll make some cocoa, light some candles, and snuggle all day to keep each other warm. If we're feeling creative, I'll break out the construction paper, Elmer's glue, and Crayola crayons and we can make pictures for our friends!" David thought I was kidding; I could tell by the way he was smiling at me.
"You think I'm kidding, don't you," I said, the excitement draining from my tone.
"No, I don't think you're kidding. I think you're crazy. But that's why I love you."
"So we can have snow days?"
"I won't accept that. 'We'll see' is always a 'no.' I'll just pretend you said 'yes,' and plan accordingly. I drew an 'F,' you get to go first." David turned his attention to his letters and I held my warm mug with both hands and breathed in the rich aroma of chocolate. I closed my eyes and listened to the rhythm of the rain, and, with an anticipatory smile, I tried to remember in which drawers and cabinets at home I had stashed away my art supplies.