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“How does she do that?” I ask myself as I put all of my (considerable) weight into holding the suitcase closed as I zip, buckle and tie it into submission. She has one roll aboard bag, neatly packed with several outfits (for any weather condition), matching shoes, toiletries, and room left over to bring back some
souvenirs. Meanwhile, I find myself manhandling a suitcase the size of a Volkswagen. How does she do it? She’s a tour guide, and I have a sneaking suspicion she went to Hogwarts.

My wife is at work. While for most people that means that, after rush hour, there will be a fond discussion of the day’s events over dinner. When my wife is at work, sometimes that means that she leaves on her commute Monday morning and returns the following Monday (or… Gulp…the following month). She is a tour director, and she loves her job. My problem is that I love her cooking.

It was a Friday evening, after a hard day of work. I was dwelling on some unresolved issues that I brought home from the office, and wasn’t in a particularly jovial mood. Still, it was Friday after all, our pizza and movie night. The red wine was poured and the medium pizza was plated. I was sitting with my favorite person by my side, with my favorite dog at my feet; the night was bound to get better.

My wife and I love to see movies together. It used to go like this: “This week you choose a movie, next week it will be my turn…” This really worked out wonderfully, in that we both got to see the movies we wanted, and we were also exposed to (and often surprisingly entertained by) the other’s choice. I like my super hero movies, she likes her historical dramas, but there was often a lot of cross over; she loves the Fast and Furious movies/I really liked Sense and Sensibility, and we both have always loved Indiana Jones (except The Temple of Doom).This also translates to television, with shows like the X Files, Agent Carter, House of Cards and Suits being destination TV.