Make-Out Night

Doesn't anybody make-out anymore?

Shooting on Small, Beautifully Moving Parts temporarily shut down the other day for a philosophical discussion about making-out. How many reunion kisses are acceptable after five years of dating?

So...here's the storyline. Leon is worried about his girlfriend of five years, Sarah. She's pregnant and driving all over the Southwest on a search for her off-the-grid mother. He surprises her after a few weeks and lays it on pretty thick.  Kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss, kiss. Who could blame him? I mean...look at her, she's gorgeous. I could barely keep my hands off of her.

And, personally, while I saw nothing wrong with watching two beautiful people goin' at it standing between

a saguaro and a minivan, Directors extraordinaire Annie and Lisa decided that four or five was too many. Nobody kisses that much after five years. Nobody makes-out anymore. So the new limit was two, maybe three. Hear that, Leon? Back off. Get real. Nobody makes-out anymore. 

Except me. 

When Shawn and I hit the big twenty-five year mark last year, we wondered, "What should we do? How should we celebrate?" Jewelry? Big trip? Fancy dinner out? Nah, let's get back to basics. More quality together time. How about a weekly make-out night in addition to the rest of the down 'n dirty? Some candles and linen spray? A little regular snuggling, some cuddling, some "hey, honey, how was your day" with a bit of predetermined time set aside in order to really hear the answer beats a gondola ride in Venice, doesn't it? No hanky panky, just turn off the TV an hour earlier for some pillow talk, a little reminder why you got together in the first place. Remember?

So, go ahead, surprise me. I'm surrounded by saguaros. Pucker up. Lay it on me. Two, maybe three, is not enough. XXOXOXO