A boring Saturday.

Not too long ago, on a chilly Saturday afternoon, Patrick and I decided to go to Maclay Gardens. I have lived and worked in Tallahassee for over a decade and hadn't been in all the time I've been here, not since a school field trip ages ago. Patrick had never been.

We paid our $6, parked, and entered the grounds. Though it was gray, it was lovely. There's something really beautiful in the starkness of winter landscapes. (That's all relative, of course. There was still plenty of green, and a few flowers, even.) As we walked around a shallow pond, we could hear wedding music, "Here Comes the Bride." Nearby, a couple was getting married by the reflecting pool. We walked around and could see the chairs set up, the attendees in the crowd, and the bride and groom in front of them all.

That was lovely and all (really, it was), but we wanted to go see the reflecting pool. It was, after all, our 11 month and 1 day anniversary. Like their wedding was so important. But, oh, fine, we stayed away from the reflecting pool so they could have their moment.

Minutes later, we could hear the quiet strands of "God Bless the Broken Road," so we knew the bride and groom were standing awkwardly, staring at each other, waiting for the song to end. Or maybe they were dumping colored sand in a jar. Or lighting candles. Another several minutes later we heard the wedding march. We stood up on some benches and tried to peek over the trees and bushes to see if we could spy the wedding kiss. Alas, no such luck.

We finished our stroll through the gardens and then headed across town to pick up our friends' mail while they were out of town. And what happened then? Why, it was a post-Christmas miracle! I made it all the way down Capital Circle to the Parkway here in town without stopping at a single red light. Not a-one for several miles! I know I'm not the only person who feels that surge, that rush--like somehow you've beaten the system and God is smiling on you and the angels are singing for you and rainbows, not exhaust, are coming out of your car's tailpipe--when you make a trip with no red light stops. I may have had to squeak under a few yellow lights, but they were legitimate squeaks. Slamming on breaks to stop would have been more dangerous--promise.

After grabbing the mail, we headed home, but on the way stopped in to a liquor store to grab some "California Champagne" (aka--ten buck bubbly wine) for the upcoming New Year's Eve. We wandered around the store, pretended to know what we were looking for, and then settled on two bottles totaling less than $25. (We're fancy.) Getting in the car after grabbing our fancy bubbles, Patrick read a sign from a business strip across the street. "Coming soon, 'Hot Yoga'."

"People sure do love hot yoga," I said. "I've never even tried cold yoga. Or room temperature yoga."

"Temperate yoga. Lukewarm yoga. Damp yoga," Patrick countered. We went back and forth trying to think of varying temperatures or environments that yoga might be performed in as we made our way back home. Fortunately, we live very close to the liquor store so we didn't have to keep that game up for too long.

It wasn't necessarily the most exciting afternoon, but it was surely delightful. I'm not sure how delightful it has been for you reading about it, but with a blog title beginning with the word "Boring," you take your chances.

Have yourself a delightful day, now, ya hear?