Saturday wasn’t special, as it began.

Our dogs have no respect for weekends, holidays, or lazy days. They begin campaigning in their not-so-subtle ways about 5 a.m. Whoever wakes first and pets them to keep their whining at a minimum is the hero. Today, that was me.

So I rolled out of bed, let them out (they don’t even go pee, they expectantly sit by their food bowls), turned on the coffee maker, and then fed them so I could steam milk and make espresso and deliver the mix in a tall, insulated mug, to my ever-loving. He does it for me during the week, and I’m happy to do likewise for him when he can sleep in.

So as he slept I delivered his coffee and checked my email at 5:30 a.m. The dogs hung out with me downstairs, and after 7 he rolled out of bed.

Breakfast he made. We stripped the bed and I got a load of wash started. We put away our clean clothes, then walked the dogs about 2+ miles. Then we ran errands and shopped. Got home, he made almond butter and banana sandwiches on whole wheat bread, then I made potato salad while he prepped cherries and strawberries for the dehydrator.

Then he took a nap while I cleaned the kitchen. I watched American Pharaoh win the Belmont stakes to become the first Triple Crown winner in 37 years. The hairs on my arms stood up as I watched him practically float over the turf. What a race! What a ride! It was amazing and inspiring to watch.

The mister made an Italian pasta arrabbiata dish featuring carnitos (you who know us know how he likes to make up stuff. This was delish. Well done!) and then retired to the patio with some Vinho Verde and a cigar. We watched the sunset and the decorated clouds, discussed the day and our accomplishments, and what’s to come tomorrow.

Patio time in Vacaville is like no other. The sun sets, the heat and wind are no longer a factor, the temps cool to nearly sweatshirt-necessary, the smoke keeps the few mosquitoes at bay, the birds sing and then stop, and the quietude is huge. It’s peaceful, and we talk about whatever we want. The dogs lay under our chaise lounges, ready for a long sleep, at at 5 a.m. Sunday we start over.

I love this patio. I love NorCal. I love that Sunday starts with a hearty breakfast, a long bike ride with our friends, and another opportunity to relax and reflect on what we did in prior days, what we plan to do, and the time to do nothing at all.

And those dried strawberries. Nom.