My husband and I went out for dinner this week. We wore masks until seated and were delighted to find that our chosen restaurant, Cuba Cuba, had set up tables on its front lawn. We got there early enough to have lots of personal space in the great outdoors.

You’d think I’d go with the restaurant’s signature mojito, being it’s a Cuban drink and we were in a Cuban restaurant. But I can make mojitos at home (mint! I have mint!). Instead, we allowed some geographical mixing-it-up and toasted each other with Brazilian caipirinhas. (Sure, I could make those at home, too, but cachaça is harder to find than rum.)

When I was younger, I looked at older couples and wondered how could anyone be in in love with an old person? I mean, wrinkles and sags and bifocals and gray hairs and less hair where you want it and more where you don’t. All that general decrepitude? Not appealing, my 30-something self declared.
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