I could start a new blog called “funny things Katie does” and it would have 10x the popularity of this one. The only problem is that if I posted every funny or outrageous thing she did or said, the internet might run out of hard drive storage.
Here are some recent examples:
We were having a morning conversation about our day’s schedule and she inexplicably starting talking in a deaf/mute voice, using sign language.
She’s been randomly attacking me around the house (I think she’s happy I’m home).
Retelling a story, she said, “I wanted to tell her ‘shut up you Nazi cow! I’m about to punch you in the face!’ ”
Now, some of these things might come across to the uninitiated as cruel or unusual. Unusual? Yes. Cruel? Yes. Especially when she digs her fingers into that space between my collarbone and my shoulder. Wow. That’s a sensitive spot.
Of course, I’m kidding about the cruel part, although she LOVES seeing me rattled or frightened. Some nights I’m as jittery as a newborn calf wandering around our expansive cottage waiting for her to jump out from under our kitchen table. I jerk and spin and giggle like a 4 year-old. Of course, since she lives life at 150 mph, she doesn’t always stop to consider the ramifications or possible consequences (and since I live life at school-zone speed, I stop to consider every possible ramification. I'm a real treat to live with). This means she regularly hits her head under the table, bangs an elbow into the wall, or dives into my knees. I can’t count how many times I’ve held my belly in a fit of unbridled laughter as she stumbles around the house holding her head mumbling, “O wow ow OHH…I think I really hurt myself.” Hahahaha. That shouldn't be that funny. But it is.
She also has the ability to have ridiculous things happen to her, like the time she heard a mother and daughter arguing one aisle over at Kroger. The next thing she knew is that someone walked up behind her, turned her around and slapped her in the face. The startled mother gasped and Katie screamed (with her voice rising two full octaves), “WHO ARE YOU?” The lady (with her hands over her mouth) nervously answered, “I thought you were my daughter.” Twenty feet away, dressed in nearly identical outfits, with nearly identical hair pulled up in the same messy ponytail, was the daughter looking on in horror. The two walked away from their full grocery basket and exited Kroger immediately while Katie was left standing in the baking aisle, face reddening with the slight impression of a hand on her cheek.
That actually happened.
The difficulty with this sort of revealing blog-storytelling, though, is that probably 90% of the time I find myself saying, "I wish I could write a blog about that." Usually I don't because doing so would just be inappropriate. Sometimes it's because it's, well, inappropriate. Other times it's because--well, private, funny moments are one of the eternal joys of marriage that no one ever told me about. I was always led to believe that the best things about marriage were things like sex, kids, building a home together, etc. But for me, it's the things I can never tell you. Plus, they would be silly and nonsensical out of context. They only make sense in the context of the growing landscape of us living out our vows. There are things she says and does, the records of which will never be stored outside my memory. They're for me. Only. I think that's called intimacy.
It is a whirlwind of joy to be married to this girl.
Of my dreams.
(rw)
