The girls are doing very well. We took them to Sam's Club with us this evening to shop and restock our cupboards. My gas gauge revealed the need to stop at the gas pumps before we left Sam's, so Paul got out to pump the gas. The girls and I sat in the warmth of the car while Paul stood there in the miserable cold doing a little dance to keep warm.
Watching Paul fill the gas tank reminded me of the year we were married. Paul pumped gas at a filling station near our apartment to make enough money to pay for his train ticket into Philadelphia, where he was finishing his education. Back in "those days", people pulled up to the gas pump and the gas station attendant filled the car for you, washed the bugs off the windshield, and even checked the oil. Here in Virginia I've since learned to pump my own gas, but it sure was nice tonight to have Paul jump out of the car to do that for me. When he got back into the car I told him that pumping gas for me was as good as getting a love note from him. It was dark, but I'm pretty sure I made him smile.