Senior Dorm

I do not like the term senior applied to me, although I love the discounts only wishing that the issuing person would ask for proof of age. My housemate is a few years away from the title and the discounts, but we are both CALLs, Children Adults, Lived Life.

Thus when we both found ourselves at home unexpectedly on a Friday night, we exchanged a look and said, “McDreamy.”

Out came the shrimp, popcorn and chocolate and the cans of champagne (pronounced the American way SHAM-PAIN. In flutes and from a bottle with grapes from the Champagne region it is SHAM-PAN-YA.

Up to the TV room and the search for the remote that necessitated a phone call to No. 2 son, whom although grown now occupies space under the eaves as a third roommate. In went the DVDs.

We are on the second season of Grey’s Anatomy and we watched Denny die and McDreamy ravish Meredith then tell her he loved her.

Ahhhhhhh.

We both started to talk about the story in Bleu Martin that reported the problems with bugs that Patrick Dempsey had while filming in a kilt in Scotland and laughed that in the French version McDreamy become Mamour.

The evening ended with a Swiss black chocolate that melted slowly in the mouth.

It was so reminiscent of the dorm life of youth without the angst of tests and will-he-call? moments. Another ahhhhhhhh.