As we left home to drive to Washington, DC for a few days away, we stopped at Starbucks for drinks to sustain us until we stopped for an early dinner, as we approached the nation’s capital.
Discussing what we were each going to get – people who have been together for a long time talk about such things because, quite frankly, what else is there to say after so many years? – I suggested, “You should get a PSL.”
“What’s a PSL?,” he asked.
“A pumpkin spice latte,” I explained. “Everyone knows what that is this time of year,” I teased, fairly certain everyone does NOT know this. He loves pumpkin everything but he has never had it in latte form.
Entering the drive-through line, we ordered our drinks, with my husband requesting an iced pumpkin spice latte instead of a PSL.
Arriving at the window to pick up our beverages, Mister Rain couldn’t help himself. Accepting the first cup from the Starbucks associate, he politely challenged, “If I had ordered a PSL, would you know what that is?”
“I would,” the young woman confirmed, my husband’s head whipping around to look at me, as I laughed.
Waiting to pull out of the parking lot, he took his first sip. “It tastes like pumpkin pie,” he reported.
Every time he took a drink, I questioned how his PSL was. His response every time was a chuckle and a shake of his head.
Hopefully my pumpkin and I still have a latte to learn from each other. After all, we have to keep things spicy.
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