Pillow Talk

Some of our best conversations as a married couple seem to happen in those late night hours laying in bed, attempting to relax into sleep. However, this is also the time when BD's mind is fast at work conjuring up the wildest of ideas at which Wifey, played by me, affectionately puts down so she can get to sleep sooner. This is not effective. Many conversations open a flood gate of political filibuster, religious declamation, and he said/she said gossip. Inevitably, BD will get out of bed to Wiki something that Wifey may or may not be right or wrong about. For example, last night as I was finishing up a chapter in my current book, I came across a word I did not immediately recognize; pugnacious, used to describe a gentleman's facial demeanor. I inquired BD if he knew while reading to him the context of the word. He confidently responded, "it means your face looks like a pug, all squished up, like this" and he proceeded to squish his face up, like that. "No, it doesn't," I quipped back, immediately calling his bluff. BD conceded his defeat and was off to the computer to verify pugnacious with the all-knowing Gods of the Internets.A few moments later from the other room he bellows as if I'm three stories below "IT MEANS "FEELING OR DISPLAYING EAGERNESS TO FIGHT, SEE BELLIGERENT." Since then Wifey's face has been referred to as pugnacious at least a half dozen times, as well as various body parts of mine that I will not mention here. Most often our Pillow Talk conversations leave one of us, and sometimes both, in a state of inconsolable laughter. And when we finally realize that sleep has been completely taken off the table, we rally in the kitchen; a hot cup of chamomile for her and a heaping plate of nachos for him. I only wish I had started writing this all down sooner, you know, for posterity. And just to clarify, I do realize that we are the only ones who will think any of this is at all funny. I'm still debating how much I actually want to share here, as this is a "family" blog.

Unless otherwise noted, what I write is pretty much verbatim.

Concluding a brief discussion about diabetes and the imminent dangers that loom in both our genetic heritage:
BD: Kin, I don't want to get fat...
Wifey: You eat like at HORSE.
BD: I know that. Thanks, Captain Obvious.

Wifey (AKA Kin, AKA me) now answers only to pugnacious Capt'n O.