Like bears emerging from winter hibernation, our family spent the entire afternoon outside Saturday, happily welcoming the sun back to the northeast.
We busied ourselves with yard work, bringing up our patio furniture from the basement and pulling pine cones out of Allison's mouth.
And like we do every spring, Jerry and I stood back and contemplated what projects we'd tackle this summer. Among them? Planting a vegetable garden, giving our porch another coat of paint and putting down grass seed in the spots Toby attempted to show his dominance while greeting the new, much larger, dog next door.
Not to mention getting a few outdoor toys so Alli won't have to resort to playing with pine cones. Or, even worse, dog poop.
"Well, we can put the sandbox there once Amy brings it over," Jerry said, pointing to the spot on the grass that our bench always goes.
"What?! You're crazy," I said. "The bench goes there. Besides, it'll fit under the tree. That way, if any sand spills out, it won't kill the grass. Plus, it'll always be in the shade."
"It is NOT going to fit under there."
"Yes it will."
"From the base of the tree to the rock line? You're crazy. No way."
"Jerry, I'm good with spacial organization. I envisioned our entire furniture arrangement for every room of this house before we moved in and knew it would fit. ... You're wrong."
Jerry takes betting very seriously. We make casual wagers once in awhile just for bragging rights, but I could tell this was not one of those times. This was serious.
"What did you have in mind?"
"Name your price. Anything," he said with a premature gloating tone.
"Oh, no, you first," I said. "If you already have something in mind, I don't want to undersell myself."
After giving it some thought, he relented. "A trip to Denny's."
"DUUUUUUUDE. No WAY! Ugh."
"How confident are you that you're right?" he chided.
That was enough. I was confident. Very confident.
"Fine. But what's a big enough sacrifice for you to counterbalance a trip to ... (gag) ... Denny's?"
"I won't mention getting an iPod nano until my birthday," he said.
My hand instantly extended to make the bet official. Jerry has been whining about getting a nano for so long that I wish I could afford one simply to shove it up his ass. He somehow manages to talk about it even as he exhales, so not hearing a peep about it until September would be WORTH another wilted salad with bullet-proof croutons.
But, even better than that, I know I'm going to win.
No Denny's for another five years (our agreed upon minimum in between family trips) AND no "nano nano nano" until he actually has one in his hands.
Plus, BRAGGING RIGHTS.
I can't wait until my sister-in-law can find time to bring it over so I can say things like, "BOW TO ME AND MY GENIUS, YOU NON-NANO OWNER WHO WON'T EAT AT DENNY'S AGAIN UNTIL 2014."
Yeah. It's gonna be great.
Nothing like pouring salt in the wound. Or, in this case, sand.