It’s practically impossible to look at a penguin and feel angry. ~ Joe Moore
On this blog, I’ve talked a lot about Sausage, mythological creatures, and foodstuffs. I’ve written a fair bit of bad poetry. I’ve ranted about people who get all judgy, and about how stupid the Mommy Wars are.
But in all of this, I’ve neglected to talk much about my Loving Husband. I’ve mentioned him — I could hardly avoid it, since he lives with me and shit. But I haven’t talked much about him, HIMSELF.
I can’t say it all in one post. You can’t sum up all the things you’d like to say about the love of your life, the father of your child, in 1200 words or less (I do try to keep it much less than that.) So I’m going to give you a little glimpse into our relationship, and let you see in that way what we are.
For today’s glimpse, I’ve decided to recount to you a conversation I had with my Loving Husband on Saturday. My mother-in-law was with Sausage so that LH and I could go to the local Army post and get new military ID cards. We knew it could be a lengthy process, and we didn’t want to have a restless baby with us.
(Quick note: It’s a good thing we didn’t. We had to wait an hour and a half just to get called to a desk — seriously, it’s as bad as the DMV, the main difference being that people are more neatly dressed and the waiting area smells less like urine. I have to say, though, I didn’t mind the wait one little bit. An hour and a half of just sitting, resting my head on my husband’s shoulder, reading an old issue of People magazine, with no baby to feed/entertain/tend? It was practically heaven.)
After we were done there, we went to the uniform shop because LH needed some new shirts. As I said, this is an Army post. Since LH is in the Navy Reserves, and we spent many years active duty and frequenting Navy bases, it was all a little exotic. The rank insignia are different, the uniforms are different, and (most entertainingly of all) the medals are different.
See, with the exception of a few, special medals, with most military awards the service member is notified that they’ve been given the award, and then they go out to the uniform shop and buy the appropriate medal or ribbon for their uniform. So all the medals and ribbons are displayed on the wall, for curious people like me to speculate over.
Clearly, I’m not the only one. As we passed the medal wall and left the shop, LH dropped the first line of the following conversation, which took place as we made our way to the car. I’ll try to include some stage directions to give atmosphere.
LH: I want the Antarctic Service medal.
Me: THERE’S AN ANTARCTIC CIRCUS MEDAL?!
LH: Service. SER-VICE. Not circus!
(Random Army dude stops in his tracks to salute LH and say “Sir!”)
Me: I heard you say circus. How awesome would an Antarctic Circus medal be? How would you earn it?
(A line of Army dudes outside the shop all hop to attention as I try to control my giggles.)
Me: Would you have to train penguins? You could train them to jump through little hoops! And to stand on balls! Penguin, you will jump through this hoop or you will be doing pushups until next week!
LH: I don’t know you.
Me: Oooh, and all you guys in your uniforms would take it SO SERIOUSLY. If we don’t get these penguins trained up right, the terrorists will win!
LH: I must have married you in a moment of mental abstraction.*
Me: Dance, penguins! Dance for Uncle Sam! Dance for democracy!
LH: You’re lucky you’re cute.
And that’s what our relationship is like. Lurve.
*Please note — I did not make this line up. LH actually said it. And yes, it’s a paraphrased line from “The Importance of Being Earnest” by Oscar Wilde. I have had a profound effect on the man!