These last few evenings, my husband and I have been indulging in some quality jigsaw time. We’ve got an old wooden jigsaw puzzle of Europe printed in 1966, given to us by my mother in law. It looks and smells beautiful! And it’s in amazing condition.
It’s huge too. Too big for both our dinner and coffee tables. We had to do the puzzle on the floor, on a large bit of wood, so we could move it away when the kids woke up in the morning.
Now, this is the first time we’ve pieced a jigsaw puzzle together (Bob the Builder puzzles don’t count). And to let you in on a little secret… when I was single, I used to *dream* about being married and doing inane coupley things together – like jigsaw puzzles. You know. After you’ve seen all the latest movie releases, already tried every new restaurant in the city, gone for walks at the same ol places, talked about every book and tv program there is. How else do couples spend time together at the end of a weeknight to unwind?!?
We lay on the floor, propped up on our elbows, matching pieces, listening to music, chatting, laughing, drinking red wine. It was so much fun.
My husband is a bit of a history buff, so he knew all these really random places and all the stories and wars and important dates connected to the cities. He’d pick up a piece, hold it up, read the tiny faded text out loud, “Constantinople” and then go, “Oh that goes here.” And put the piece exactly in its place.
And I’m like, “Ok. I’m looking for a green piece with a small section of blue at the top, with an unusually large bottom left leg and a small right leg that looks like a shark’s tale. Oh there is it.” And put it exactly in its place.