Friday, July 31, 2015 is the second full moon in a month, ergo, a blue moon. And it seemed like something which deserved a ‘sense of occasion’ to me. The last blue moon was August 31, 2012, the next one isn’t until January 31, 2018. So, ‘once in a blue moon’ indeed should be feted.

OK, so yes, I did go out and buy Blue Moon beer just for this occurrence. I suggested to the man next to me at the beer cooler that he too should buy Blue Moon beer. But when I had to explain to him the phrase “Once in a blue moon”; well if you have to explain the significance of an event, then there might not be any significance. Even the man at the checkout didn’t respond enthusiastically to my idea of putting a sign at the cash register so that they might sell more Blue Moon beer in honor of this auspicious event. I soon realized that my sense of wit and occasion might be slightly amiss to the masses.

So last night, I waited anxiously for the sun to set and for the moon to emerge in all its full glory and possibility, to boldly traverse across our night sky. Once it was dark enough and the moon was just peeking over the tree tops, I said to Richard, “Ready to go out and toast the blue moon?”  “Do I have to right now?” (No response necessary, ‘the look’ was enough to make him move.)

Sitting, we could barely see the moon, so with each toast I had to stand in order to view it and honor it with the proper consideration it was due. We toasted each other, clear summer nights, the blessings of life, and of course, we toasted to blue moons.

Richard is not much of a drinker, but he was pretty well tossing back his beer while I did Weight Watcher points-conscious sips.

“So…” said I with curious introspect, “What is something that you’d like to do more than ‘just once in a blue moon?’”

“I don’t know, I’d have to think about that.”

“Well, I know what I’d like to do more than ‘once in a blue moon,’ I’d like to take more road trips.”

“We just took a road trip” he replied.

“I know, but we don’t take them all that often and I’d like to take more.”

“And we went to Leadville last year, that was a road trip.”

“No, it doesn’t count as a road trip, it was only two nights, so that’s a weekend get-away. Definitely NOT a road trip.”

“It was so a road trip,” he said empathically, “we were on the road and we stayed somewhere.”

“Was not.”

“Was so.” Pause. “Well, then what constitutes a road trip?”

Oh, I am so ready to enlighten you, grasshopper. “For a true road trip, you have to travel more than a few hours and stay away for least three nights. A road trip must be longer than a weekend, including a long weekend.”

He looks at me incredulously, “Who says?”

“Everyone knows that.” I try with specious authority. “Well, OK, I say, so there.” Ending with a tone of finality.

The moon is now in full view and I sigh contently. From the corner of my eye I see him finish his beer.

“Are we done here?” he asks.

“Yes, I believe we are. Thank you for sharing this moment with me.”

“It was my pleasure.”

As I put the bottle stopper on my beer, which is still three-quarters full, I ponder where I would like to go for our next road trip.