I Won’t Weasel Out Of Telling This Story

i dreamed i clocked a badgerSo, here’s the thing. I punched a badger.

I have a nasty bruise, a major knot, but nothing broken. I know nothing is broken because I had an appointment with my orthopedist about my other hand. I have arthritis. I’m a hip, happening young gal like that. I asked him if he’d just take a look. He told me while it was the worst case of badger abuse he’d ever seen, nothing was broken.

Thing is? The badger didn’t exist. I had a dream this badger was following me around the backyard of the house I grew up in. It wouldn’t go away. Obviously, it gave not one shit that it was annoying me. Finally, I was all look. This has to stop. I’ve got things to do. He reared up on his hind legs, and I clocked him one. But I actually punched. Like in real life. I knocked out the headboard. FORTUNATELY, The Chuck had already gotten up. That would have been a fun shiner to explain: “Uh, yeah, my wife thought I was a badger…well, she was asleep…right hook…no, I don’t think her footwork was that great because SHE WAS ASLEEP…yes, she has an excellent therapeutic team, thank you.”

I have run in my sleep several times–nearly rendering my honey a soprano. I’ve yelled for help, for The Chuck, for quiet, and once I woke up saying, “I’d have thought that would have been printed on there.” I routinely flail and often have to apologize to my bed-mate for smacking him one. I thought the badger was a new thing, but according to The Chuck and The Girl I had dreamed about badgers before. You may have a recurring dream about showing up for the first day of school naked, I have a recurring dream about a member of the weasel family that is the main source of trichinosis outbreaks in the Alti region of Russia.

Also? Not for nothing, but it’s kind of hard to find a country that rhymes with “badger”.

 

 

 

My SuperStrate Marriage™©: Over The Weekend

superstrate marriage rainbowSuch a heteronormative weekend we had. THANK GOD. Chuck did some work in the yard. Grilled a large slab of meat. I took to my fainting couch with a very lady-like migraine. He had a good ride on his SuperStrate™© Man Bike.

Wait.

A ride. On a bike. IN SPANDEX!!! DAMN YOU, GAY MARRIAGE! DAMN YOU!!

Morning #1: My SuperStrate Marriage™©

coffee potAs I said yesterday, I’m going to be popping in here and there to talk about what the demise of DOMA means for my marriage. I’m a heterosexual woman. My husband is a heterosexual man. Therefore, forthwith, and heretofore, we are not gay married. BUT! As we all know, letting two consenting adults of the same sex get married makes a MOCKERY of marriage. It leads to men marrying dogs. And dancing.

I’ll admit I feel a little less married this morning. Chuck didn’t make coffee and while it could be he was just running late, I think he feels it too. I think he’s questioning the very foundation of our relationship. Coffee ennui is an early sign of a collapsing marriage. I’m sure he thought about all the mornings he woke up and made coffee knowing his loving wife would later stumble into the kitchen and thank the stars she married another caffeine addict. And I’m sure his next thought was now, the way it’s going, it’s not just straight people who will have that bond. Married homosexuals across the land were also waking up and reaping the benefits of a loving, early-rising partner who was equally addicted to caffeine.

I just…I just need a moment.