Mawwage. Mawwage is What Bwings us Togevvah Today.
Ten points if you can tell me what the title is in reference to.
Does anyone out there "get" me? Or am I doing this only to amuse myself?
Anyway.
So most of you know my husband, who is not only handsome and the love of my life, but also, hands down, one of the funniest people I have ever met. I giggle constantly around him. In fact, one of his nicknames for me is 'giggles.' Along with 'baby,' 'sweetie,' and 'beautiful bride.' (Sidenote: He never, EVER calls me Carrie. So when he actually says my name, I go into Panic!Crisis! mode wondering if A) The house is on fire and I need to evacuate immediately, or B) I've made a mistake while amending the checkbook. P.S.? It's usually B.)
Anyhow, Nolan and I were having one of those discussions last night... He'd lured me into the bedroom under false pretenses, I might add, and we were discussing the very BANE of my existence when it comes to Very Important Marriage Issues: Money.
We wrapped up that discussion without any yelling, shedding of tears or gnashing of teeth (and it only took us twelve years of wedded bliss to achieve this!) and the conversation moved on to where it inevitably goes - because he's HIM: Sex.
Now, fear not, gentle reader. My mom reads this blog, and I think a couple of aunts and step aunts and various girls from church, so I'm not going to get explicit or anything. But for the more shy of you, or the ones that don't need too much information about my marriage, I'll put it beneath a cut.
I'll preface the conversation by saying that we have a healthy marriage. We're not one of those couples that has two kids and the only time our bodies have ever come in contact with each other was to procreate. But Nolan, in all his manliness, is pondering that it has "been a while."
Can I just say? MEN. Hmph.
So I explain:
Me. Okay.... so the last time was Sunday.
Nolan. (as if this explains everything) Yeah!
Me. And then Monday we came home and I was exhausted after three flights, Tuesday I was so sick I couldn't get out of bed, Wednesday I was recovering, Thursday you were an asshole..."
Nolan. Well, it was 'Asshole Thursday.' I didn't have any choice in the matter.
And I dissolved into a mess laughing. I mean, HOW can you possibly argue with 'Asshole Thursday?' Which, Nolan pointed out, shouldn't be confused with 'I'm a Cranky Bastard Monday.'
It's why I keep him around, folks.
And don't forget about this month's friends list contest! For all you Angsty Annie Writers who want to win some bubble baths and Lush bath bombs, you can enter your effort in the comments to THIS post. A list of ships I'm particularly fond of can be found HERE. Go forth and give me an emotional catharsis! :D
Oh. And can I tell you this? Writing with other people spoils me. I just finished a rather lengthy story for the dgficexchange with a dear friend yesterday (who will remain nameless til the big reveal), and it felt effortless, with amazing results.
Does anyone out there "get" me? Or am I doing this only to amuse myself?
Anyway.
So most of you know my husband, who is not only handsome and the love of my life, but also, hands down, one of the funniest people I have ever met. I giggle constantly around him. In fact, one of his nicknames for me is 'giggles.' Along with 'baby,' 'sweetie,' and 'beautiful bride.' (Sidenote: He never, EVER calls me Carrie. So when he actually says my name, I go into Panic!Crisis! mode wondering if A) The house is on fire and I need to evacuate immediately, or B) I've made a mistake while amending the checkbook. P.S.? It's usually B.)
Anyhow, Nolan and I were having one of those discussions last night... He'd lured me into the bedroom under false pretenses, I might add, and we were discussing the very BANE of my existence when it comes to Very Important Marriage Issues: Money.
We wrapped up that discussion without any yelling, shedding of tears or gnashing of teeth (and it only took us twelve years of wedded bliss to achieve this!) and the conversation moved on to where it inevitably goes - because he's HIM: Sex.
Now, fear not, gentle reader. My mom reads this blog, and I think a couple of aunts and step aunts and various girls from church, so I'm not going to get explicit or anything. But for the more shy of you, or the ones that don't need too much information about my marriage, I'll put it beneath a cut.
I'll preface the conversation by saying that we have a healthy marriage. We're not one of those couples that has two kids and the only time our bodies have ever come in contact with each other was to procreate. But Nolan, in all his manliness, is pondering that it has "been a while."
Can I just say? MEN. Hmph.
So I explain:
Me. Okay.... so the last time was Sunday.
Nolan. (as if this explains everything) Yeah!
Me. And then Monday we came home and I was exhausted after three flights, Tuesday I was so sick I couldn't get out of bed, Wednesday I was recovering, Thursday you were an asshole..."
Nolan. Well, it was 'Asshole Thursday.' I didn't have any choice in the matter.
And I dissolved into a mess laughing. I mean, HOW can you possibly argue with 'Asshole Thursday?' Which, Nolan pointed out, shouldn't be confused with 'I'm a Cranky Bastard Monday.'
It's why I keep him around, folks.
And don't forget about this month's friends list contest! For all you Angsty Annie Writers who want to win some bubble baths and Lush bath bombs, you can enter your effort in the comments to THIS post. A list of ships I'm particularly fond of can be found HERE. Go forth and give me an emotional catharsis! :D
Oh. And can I tell you this? Writing with other people spoils me. I just finished a rather lengthy story for the dgficexchange with a dear friend yesterday (who will remain nameless til the big reveal), and it felt effortless, with amazing results.