Tag: marriage

Who Gets Sick in Paradise?

He snores beside me,
deeply, but not too loud.
Maybe after three days of
fevered restlessness he has
Found some equilibrium.

Just outside our hotel
room, people frolic in the
Warm waters of the blue green
bay, while I play Words With
Friends on my iPhone.

A morning spent on the beach
alone, pretending to be a
Minor celebrity escaping
pursuit by rabid paparazzi
Proved far too lonely.

So I drank too much rum punch
before returning to the dark
Comfort of our air conditioned
suite where I slipped beneath
Cool sheets to be with him.

At a Loss for Words

I turned to Studly Doright a few minutes ago and said, “I’ve got nothing. No blog ideas. No inspiration.”

He grunted. So here’s a post about grunts.

     “Grunting Muse”

Honey can you help me?

Ungh?

I need an idea now.

Mmmph.

Anything on your mind?

Hunh?

Something with some zow?

Ergh!

You’ve been so very helpful!

Whuh?

With all your clever sounds.

Hmmm!

My muse you’ve been, as usual.

Shhsh!

Your wisdom knows no bounds.

Harrumph

Peace, people!

Craving Pizza

If pizza were a man, I’d have married it. 

Do you, Leslie, take this Pepperoni with onions and pineapple, for greasy or not, through thick and thin crust, with marinara or Alfredo, ’til high cholesterol do you part?

I do.

You may eat the groom.   

I saw a tshirt today that read, 

Can’t get out of bed.
Send help and pizza.
Or just send pizza.

Bravo. Bravo. Now if we could do something about those pesky calories.

  

Peace, people.

Phobia

I have no phobias as far as I can tell. At one time in my life I was fearful of escalators, but only those heading down. After years of traveling through airports and department stores I overcame that fear. The time it took to circumvent the escalators cut drastically into my travel and shopping time, so I cured myself.

I do understand irrational and deep seated fear, though, and I’m sympathetic to those who suffer from phobias. Having said that, some of these are a bit hard to swallow:

Pharmacophobia is the name given to the fear of medicines.

Quackery

 

Do not go into nursing or motherhood if you suffer from this.
  
Really?
  
A weird one, granted, but those black symbols can be daunting.
  
I forgot to be afraid of this one….
  
Studly Doright has an odd fear of lakes.
  
Totally understandable. Only the shadow knows what’s in the shadows.
  
That explains why people scream and run away when I enter a room.
  
I can understand this! Ventriloquists’ dummies are pretty creepy.
  
Could I claim this one after 39 years?
 
And then there’s

 

I might develop this.

Peace, people! 

Courting Studly

The title is deceptive. I have no intention of detailing my dating years with Studly Doright. Suffice it to say we made out a lot in parked cars, and at one point he asked, “So, you want to get married or what?”

To which I answered affirmatively, and the rest is history. Ancient and yet present history. No, this post is about Studly answering a summons to report for jury duty here in Gadsden County, Florida.  

I get all excited when I’m selected for jury duty. I’ve gotten the summons many times, but was chosen to serve just once. I think maybe my bright pink Pick Me! Pick Me! banner is a bit off-putting to attorneys. I can’t imagine why.

Studly does not share my enthusiasm for performing his civic duty. In fact, his response to the summons included a string of colorful curse words, and he seldom swears. 

After he calmed down I assured him it was unlikely he’d have to serve. “They call up tons of folks! What are the odds?” I offered to let him take my lucky pink sign. 

Apparently he should’ve taken my sign or purchased lottery tickets this week because he came home from the jury selection on Monday with the grimmest expression I’ve seen outside of a Criminal Minds episode. Another string of imaginative swear words accompanied his telling of the story. I fed him dinner and patted his hand. 

Curious, I asked him if they’d been given any idea as to what crime had been committed. He nodded, thoughtfully chewing an extra savory bite of roast that I’d lovingly prepared, but said he wasn’t able to tell me. 

Now it was my turn to say something colorful. “Son of a biscuit eater!”

So I changed my tack. I cajoled and flirted. Flashed a sexy thigh. Seductively bent over the laundry basket and wiggled my backside. But he wouldn’t spill the beans. 

This morning I sent him on his way with an admonition to be a good little juror, and a husky whisper promising all sorts of naughtiness if he’d just give me the scoop. But, still he refused. 

There’s a reason I call him Studly Doright. Dammit!

Peace, people!

  

Word to the Wise

 I sent Studly Doright this message in an email. Let’s see if he can pull off the jump back “no” move to my satisfaction.
Peace, people! 

Taking the Plunge

Studly Doright took me out for dinner last night for an early Valentine’s Day celebration. He also bought me a bouquet of tulips in a box. You know, the kind you have to assemble yourself?

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely adore receiving flowers, but part of the romance is lost if I have to cut the stems, pull the leaves, and mix up that floral cocaine that keeps the flowers fresh. So this year I said, “Thanks, hon. Now you make ’em pretty for me.”

And miracle of miracles, he did! I know I’ll need to do a little fine tuning here and there, but at least he took the plunge. And that’s the definition of love. Taking plunges. 

 

Ok, he isn’t going to make a living arranging flowers, but Studly did this for me!
 
When Studly asked me out on our first date, he took a big, scary plunge. For all he knew I’d turn him down cold, yet still he asked.

Our first kiss was a plunge. I’m not sure which of us initiated the touching of lips to lips, but it was pure bliss and it was the moment I realized I might already be falling in love with this crazy, funny, smart(ass) boy.

And even though Studly was 99.9% sure I’d answer yes when he asked if I would marry him, that, too was a plunge.

Studly and I have been wed for almost four decades, and we’re still taking plunges. We plunged in head first on having children. Every one of our cross country moves has been a plunge. It’s been a veritable plunge-a-thon! 

With any luck, the biggest ones are behind us. But those little ones, like watching my big, handsome man arranging my bouquet of flowers, I hope we have many more of those.

Peace, and Happy Valentine’s Day, people!

Women are from Earth; Men are from Uranus

Studly Doright fell into a deep sleep as soon as the lights went off in Doright Manor last night. In contrast I watched the minutes, then hours, tick by on my Fitbit, practiced coordinating my deep breathing skills with the rise and fall of his snores, and not only counted sheep, but also organized them according to height, weight, and quality of fleece. It was a long night.

Twice during the night I felt the call of nature. Being a considerate woman even in a state of severe sleep deprivation, I carefully slid out from under the covers, making the most minute movements imaginable. With the stealth of a cat I moved through our bedroom and down the hall to access one of the guest bathrooms in order to allow dearest Studly to slumber in peace, undisturbed by the sound of a flushing toilet or running water.

Returning to bed after both trips to the loo I gently eased myself onto the mattress and matched my movements to his snores, pulling the blankets up to my chin in increments of a half millimeter per second. Studly never stirred.

At some point I slept. I know this because I was awakened rudely by Studly who abruptly sat up with a loud grumble-snort-sigh combo, followed by an inelegant roll out of bed, and topped off with a vicious tug of the covers. Granted he couldn’t have known that I struggled with sleeping last night, but geez Louise, he could’ve shown a little respect for the near dead.

I fumed as he showered and readied himself for the day ahead. As Studly noisily fumbled about for his keys and wallet I leaned across his side of the bed to kiss him goodbye. 

Sweetly I asked, “Honey, did I steal the covers last night?”

“I don’t think so,” he said, sounding genuinely puzzled. 

“Then why did you jerk them like a magician pulling the old tablecloth trick?”

“I dunno. Maybe I was looking for a rabbit?”

His humor just barely saved him this time. Grrrrr.

Peace, people.

Soliloquy and Response: A Play in One Act

Setting: Family room; TV turned to World’s Dumbest Criminals

Wife: It seems that you might be upset about something. I can’t imagine what it might be, and I’ve been wracking my brain all day and just want to say, whatever I’ve done I’m sorry and I will do my best to never do it again. 

If it’s about the lack of sex, I realize I haven’t been all that amorous lately. It’s purely hormonal and I’d do something about that if I could. Honestly, don’t take it personally. 

Our lives are so entertwined. I don’t know where I end and you begin, so please help me understand your feelings. 

Just know that I never take any of this life we’ve built for granted. You’ve worked so hard, and I’ve always been your cheerleader. You’re my man and I love you fiercely. 

 So maybe we’ve both gone a little deaf, and we aren’t as thin as we once were. Let’s not fight. Just talk and then cuddle. What do you say? Surely we can work this out.

Husband: Did you say something?

THE END

It’s a lose/lose situation.

38 Plus One Reasons Why

Last year at this point my blog was just a newborn. It has grown and so have I, physically, emotionally, and mentally.  

This was my post one year ago today, with an additional reason tacked on at the end.

On the eve of our 38th wedding anniversary
I thought it might be interesting to challenge myself to list 38 reasons I’m happy to be married to Studly Doright. 

1. He thinks I’m smart.

2. His sense of humor. It’s corny and quick and keeps me on my toes.

3. He’s a great mechanic. That ability has been ridiculously valuable throughout our 38 years together. No matter how broke we were we always had reliable transportation.

4. He is handsome. Much better looking than I deserve.

5. He’s honest in his dealings with others. His golf buddies refer to him as the Boy Scout. He never cheats. Never.

6. He can admit when he’s wrong.

7. He isn’t afraid to show emotion.

8. He loves our kids fiercely.

9. The grand kids have compared him to a jungle gym. And he would do anything in his power to make them happy.

10. He is loyal, sometimes to a fault.

11. He treats his mother like a queen.

12. He is generous and big-hearted.

13. His laugh. Oh, wow, his laugh. Sitting through a funny movie with Studly is one of the best mood lifters in the world. I highly recommend it.

14. He is a really good kisser.

15. He is an incredible leader.

16. Have I mentioned how smart he is?

17. He will dance with me if he has had enough to drink.

18. He is a good driver.

19. He taught me to ride a motorcycle without wringing my neck.

20. He likes to hold hands.

21. He does everything in his power to make sure I’m happy.

22. Studly loves our cats as much as I do.

23. He is consistent. That might sound boring, but he’s the perfect counterpoint to my Inconsistency.

24. Punctuality is important to him.

25. He makes kick ass obstacle courses.

26. He is a decent amateur auctioneer for our family reunion fund raisers. What he lacks in speed he makes up for in witty repartee.

27. He is really good at mental math. I never need a calculator when he’s around.

28. My parents loved him.

29. He insisted that Daddy move in with us so we could care for him after Mom passed away. The two years we had with Dad before he died were some of the best of our lives.

30. He never lets me take myself too seriously.

31. He doesn’t worry.

32. He respects my opinion and listens to my points of view.

33. He sees me as an equal partner in our marriage.

34. He can cook much better than I can.

35. He can laugh at himself.

36. Studly has a stellar work ethic.

37. He knows how to enjoy life.

38. And, he loves me. He really, really loves me.

39. No matter how crazy his work becomes, he never brings it home.

I made it! Truth is I could’ve gone on and on, but I probably lost most of my readers half way through. That’s ok. This one’s for my husband.

Peace, People.