I got a message from our head meeting planner, letting me know that the electronic registration for the September conference will be active soon, and requesting that I begin soliciting responses from my group as soon as possible.
While we fixed dinner together last night (I started the grilling, since The Husband was busy keeping the yard from becoming a jungle, but he took over because the grill is his domain), I approached the subject of his attendance.
"So, what have you decided about coming to Florida for my conference in September?" I asked. "I know you would have to miss the football game on that Sunday, so what's the final verdict?"
"I think I'll have to miss the football game regardless," he answered. "My parents would have been watching the kids if I go out of town, but they will be going to the game."
We reviewed the logistical points about the trip itself, the timing and the impact on his work and whether he would have anyone to golf with while I was in meetings. It's doable, but not ideal, and finally he put the ball in my court.
"It comes down to your decision," he conceded. "If you want me to go, I'll go. If you really don't care, I may as well stay home."
The truth is, I don't care. I'd rather save our travelling for a time when neither of us is working in excess of 12 hours a day. But, based on fifteen years with a man, you figure out what is and is not appropriate to say.
"It's not that have any objection to you going," I replied. "It's just that I would hardly have a chance to spend any time with you while you are there. When we go on a trip together, it's nice to actually be together, not just staying in the same hotel."
And apparently, that was just the right thing to say.