Thursday, April 21, 2011

Turning to mush....

Daddio is a man's man.

A simple translation could be that he has no time for touchy feely bull crap...(as he so eloquently calls most of my view of the world and those in it)...

While he is a wonderful man, I'd never call him "fuzzy" or "cuddly"....

or "squishy" or "soft".

Nah, Daddio is a man's man.

And if you have any experience at all with men's men you know they don't much like small talk.

Or idol chatter.

I idol chatter a lot.

 Daddio says I must like to hear myself talk.

I am kind of a good conversationalist.

And we three, me, myself and I couldn't agree more.

Late at night I often find myself looking for an ear to bend.

When it's time to hit the sheets Daddio will generously say "I'll give you a fifteen minute head start to get whatever it is that you have to get done before bed".....

That is code talk for... "cage the dog, plug in the cell phones, set up the coffee for automatic morning brewing, grab some medicine, a glass of water, double check to make sure the doors are locked, hit the potty, call any sleeping away from home children to say nighty night...and a few other assorted chores."

I do it all, and most nights Daddio yells from the comfort of our cozy comforter ..."come ooooon already, what the hell takes you so long...? Maybe you need a half hour head start"...

(I'm betting this post will get me a couple of offers of heavy feather down pillows...the better to place over your head my dear...tee-hee).... (I'll send you my address)

When I finally make it to the bedroom, one last thing needs to be done.

Choose some sleeping attire.

Not such an easy decision for a indecisive person.

I've got about six gowns hanging on the back of the door.

Long sleeves, short sleeves, no sleeves at all...

Knee length, ankle length... and one that is thigh high.

Flannel, silk, stinky old cotton.

Too many actually.

"Eneey, meeney, miney moe..."

"I lit a match and it went out..."

Finally I pluck one from the peg, slip it on, climb under the covers and "post up" next to Daddio.

By this time I'm wide awake and ready to chat.

Daddio sighs loudly and says things like "shut the hell up and go to sleep" or "tell yourself good night"....(stifle E-dit)

Suddenly.... things don't feel very right.

I am tooooooooo..something,

"Ohhhhhhhhhh my God" I whine "this nightgown is soooo weird,

some nights it's too hot,

some nights it's comfortable,

it's never the same and I never know which way it's going to feel,

I hate that,

I like things to be predictable,

this nightgown is the pits,

never the same,

some nights too hot some nights just right,

why do you think that is?

How can a nightgown change from night to night?

some nights cozy,

and other nights it's like a noose around my whole body..."

"And just what kind of night is this?" Daddio asked with genuine concern in his voice.

 Sooooo soft, so caring, so sweet.

For a second I was tempted to stick out my tongue and lick him, I'm sure he would have tasted of cotton candy.

But then I would probably have needed an appointment with Dr. Dent (the denture wizard).

Have a wonderful Thursday... xoxo

1 comment:

Some bloggers write "gimme me some love".... as far as I'm concerned, I'd love some love, but I'd even take some hate, some expressions of your disgust, your outrage, mild irritation, sheer joy...whatever, I can take it, honestly I can. Just please (please) leave a comment or two and let me know what you think. Merci.