Marital Mondays: Dick Dollars
H: So, I need to hire your design company to design the covers for my three books.
M: Mmmm hmmmm …
H: What’s the exchange rate from regular dollars to dick dollars?
M: PENIS!
H: That sounds like a good exchange rate.
M: Deal.
Marital Mondays: Sick and Joyful
This daily blog hangs over my head like an antique chandelier — pretty, but heavy enough to fall and knock the words right out of me. I was sick as hell last week, so I rested for two days like a normal person and didn’t write at all. I actually didn’t miss it. It gave me time to focus on curriculum building for Fuss and other household administrative tasks.
Hannibal made many sacrifices last week, including coming home from work early Tuesday (like leaving right after he got there), because Fuss was throwing all brands of tantrum and I was too weak to deal with it. He did all of my normal driving that day, with the exception of driving Mooch to school. I have no idea how I got her there that morning, but we’re all still alive.
So, this week’s “Marital Mondays” blog is a simple shout out to the man who supports me even when it throws his whole day completely off the rails. I think he even tried to cook a little that day. He hustles so that I can customize my lifestyle, and I can’t thank him enough for the impact it is having on our girls to have me molding them all day everyday. Thanks, honey!
Marital Mondays: No 3 Year Itch Here
“The only thing consistent in the world is change.”
I don’t know if Hannibal squeezes toothpaste from the middle of the tube or even leaves the cap off, because we use separate tubes. I’ve never found pubic hair on the soap, because I don’t scrub with his Dove. The cliche toilet seat up, or typical toenail clippings in the bed, don’t happen in our house, but that doesn’t mean Hannibal doesn’t find new and clandestine ways to annoy the living shit out of me. On rare occasions he places his oleaginous head on my pillow leaving behind a residue that makes me cringe. The love of my life is the only one I know who can pick food from his teeth with his pinky nail all while talking and chewing simultaneously. Yeah, it’s pretty gross.
Hannibal is marinated in so much awesome sauce that the aforementioned criticisms don’t even show up on his marital report card (for lack of a better metaphor, because I’m writing this at fucking midnight). He shows up for the damn job. Everyday. This man washes dishes, cleans the kitchen, bathes the baby, reads countless chapters to Mooch, cuddles with me, listens to me, and makes us all laugh incessantly. All of that is AFTER working eight hours, and he doesn’t complain. He does all of that, puts me to bed, and then works some more on his own projects! His ambition borders on the psychotic.
This Wednesday at 6:30-ish, our marriage will be officially three years old. That’s right. Our marriage is a stumbling toddler, who is just gaining speed and getting it’s vocabulary together. During the first three years of marriage, a lot of adjustment takes place — sleep schedules, sex schedules, diet, free time, budgeting, spending habits. I’m no expert at all, but I’ll offer this: KEEP BONING! The endorphins, and general sextastic energy makes all the work so worth it. I know. Kids make everyone tired. Sometimes my kids make me want to gouge my spleen out with a spork. Get it in! Morning sex, mid-night sex, makeout sessions, massages, holding each other, spooning, oral sex — these all count. Do them. Laugh and have sex. Then laugh some more. Rinse and repeat.
When we have sex, we speak to each other so much more sweetly. Shit gets resolved. We come up with new projects and ideas. Then we go work even harder and be even more supportive. I’ve got no beef with marriage. This has been a hilarious three years, and I’m looking forward to eternity.
Marital Mondays: Vague March Update
I’m very excited about how this whole cuddle time every night and hanging out (without working on computers) three nights per week is working out. I actually feel more productive taking a few nights off to just be normal.
Things have still been a little hectic as we pull some details of a pending deal together. There are lots of decisions to be made and there is a whole lot of paperwork.
We’re also purging, so the house is a wreck as we prepare to sell things on Ebay and donate to charity. There’s a lot going on, so there isn’t much time to write. I’ll be sure to post about everything once it has transpired.
Marital Mondays: Reside in Me
I try not to visit there often
Panties crumpled on daybed post
Like hope hung out to dry
Vodka stained memories of
Empty Prozac bottles beneath my pillow
Shut up in my room
Rubbing off the pain
The best way I knew how
Me and Run DMC
That was home
… but I still never knew which way to walk
Father’s curses cupped in the
Palm of my hand like lemon-lime Koolaid powder
Sour
But with a dash of sugar
Delivered each morning on my
Pre-pubescent forehead
A rote expression of love
Funny papers
CNN
Loud laughter all around
Mama yelling at football
Cheering
About Jackson running for president
Watching ice skating
Jazzy organ music
Home
I was always hungry after swimming
My hair and skin dried out from each
Lap in the sea of my naiveté
All of me really
Plump pork chops pacified me like
Reading other people’s tragedies
Layers of frustration poured on like
Thick hearty gravy
Brown
Begging each night for one more moment
Nestled in mama’s Eucerin-scented arms
Soaking in the frustrations of her 12-hour day
Listening to KPFK
Somehow it all felt so normal
Like home
That home has burned
Scorched stories and secrets ’bout
How they almost didn’t make it
We almost didn’t make it
That’s all I have
Memories melting in my frontal lobe
Sweltering
Scalding my tomorrow
So I rebuild with you
One whimsical moment at a time
A new home
Walls designed by your love
Replete with a window into my soul
Loud laughter all around
Spontaneous shots of sugar
Nights in your arms
Relieving you of stress from 18-hour days
After an 18-hour day of my own
A beautiful home
In us
And around us
That goes wherever we go
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