I almost stopped for a Krispy Kreme donut on the way back from Daddy & Son. I did stop, actually. I walked up to the counter and looked at the donuts. I smelled the donuts. Then I turned around and walked out. I was drawn into the store by the neon sign that was flashing “Hot Now”. I was transported back to the days when Aunt Gladys and I would sit in her pink Studebaker outside the Krispy Kreme on Military Circle waiting for the “Hot Now” sign to come on. Today as I stood at the counter I knew what I knew then: One would be too many and a dozen wouldn’t be enough. I took one more deep inhalation of hot donuts, turned around and walked back onto Connecticut Avenue. It was a lovely day for a walk – a better day for strolling. I had strolled up Connecticut. My destination was a shirt shop. John is going up to New Jersey tomorrow to attend the 30th anniversary of a non-profit he worked for before he moved to DC twenty-five years ago. Since they haven’t seen him since he made the transition from longhaired social worker to lawyer badly in need of a haircut, I wanted him to have a new shirt to wear. I dropped his favorite summer suit off at the cleaner’s yesterday. Last week I made his Amtrak reservations and got him a hotel room in New Brunswick. You might wonder why he doesn't do these things himself. It’s just that over the past couple of decades we have fallen into a comfortable habit. He takes care of the important things like the war in Iraq and global warming and I take care of everything else. I bought a much too expensive shirt and tie from an Italian gentleman. He told me he was from Sicily. “Only visit Sicily in April or September” he cautioned as he helped me pick out a tie to go with the orange, pink and yellow striped shirt. We agreed the orange tie was best. When he offered to gift-wrap my purchase, I let him because I was enjoying our conversation and the ambiance of the little shop. The sweet sound of an Italian tenor emanated from speakers in the four corners of the shop's bright yellow ceiling. I love doing little kindnesses for my husband. I know how fortunate we are to share a happy marriage. You might think it’s a lot of work. On the contrary. It is quite the opposite. I don’t think it would work as well if I labored at it. I’m quite pleased that John has agreed to come with me to Taos in July. I registered for the Taos Summer Writing Conference months ago, intending to go alone. I booked my flight. Rented a car and reserved a room. Then a few weeks ago it occurred to me how nice it would be to introduce him to New Mexico and let him explore while I’m busy with my conference. John just called to give me a status on his campaign to secure an off-leash dog area in Luria Park – the recreational area at the end of our street. “They have them in New York and Arlington” he complained. “Why is it so hard to get Fairfax County to understand?” I made my “I know honey” sounds and asked him how his cold was and whether he’d gone to his yoga class at lunch. I didn’t tell him about my stroll to Daddy & Son.