Confessions

People frequently ask me if the hubs ever confesses things in his sleep. Or if I try to ask him questions to find out the truth while he is sleeping. The answer is “no.” To both questions. If the hubs has something to tell me, he does. And if I wanted to know the truth I simply have to ask him while we are both awake.

The munchkin has nothing to confess: he can sleep like a baby.

The munchkin has nothing to confess: he can sleep like a baby.

Isn’t it interesting that so many people think that I should utilize the hubs’ sleep talking to find out his secrets? I suppose we all want to know things about other people, to know their secrets, and to confess our own. One well timed question and anyone will share their secrets. In fact, I have some things to confess right now:

My least favorite chore is mopping. It always has been. Therefore, I do not own a mop. I clean my floors by other means, just never mopping.

I still, in my deepest heart, think that the three kings in “We Three Kings” are from a place called “Orientare.”

I sing Cindy Lauper songs to the munchkin. A lot. His favorite is “Girls Just Want to Have Fun.”

It bothers me a lot when people say “alot.” It is two words. If you type it as one word, I judge you a lot.

I always said that I would never talk to my child in “baby talk,” because I thought that it would stunt their verbal skills. I talk to the munchkin in baby talk all day long. I talk so much like a baby that I now talk to the dog like a baby. The other day I answered the phone with baby talk. It’s getting a little out of control.

When I walk the dog in the evening and a dog a street or two over starts barking, I let our dog bark back for awhile. I do this just in case the Twilight Bark is a real thing, and she is helping to save some lost puppies.

I also must confess that I occasionally sleep talk. In fact, according to the hubs, I talked in my sleep this past week. He said I mumbled, “Slerfenskots frozen people…”

And he said, “What, hon?”

“Slerfenskots frozen peopsernf.”

I have no idea what I was talking about, but the hubs has confessed that it was quite funny to have the sleep-talking tables turned.

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Going for the Gold

We have been watching lots of Olympics over the past week.

The Olympians are all so young, almost all of them are younger than me. This makes me feel like I have somehow not accomplished something that I should have, as if society is saying to me, “What, you didn’t win the biggest athletic competition in the world by the time you were 17?”

When I was 17 I was really busy just, you know, being 17. And wishing that I were 18. As we watch the amazing athletic feats, I find myself saying, “WOW! Look what they just did! That was so good! I could never do anything that great.” After which the announcer promptly says, “Oh, what a mistake there, that was catastrophic!”

Things the dog could get an Olympic medal in:

  • Sloshing her water dish onto the kitchen floor
  • Sitting in the sun
  • Peeing on light poles
  • Jumping at the camera at the exact moment that I take her picture
  • Barking at the yorkie who lives down the street
  • Snuggling down into her wooly blanket

The hubs is great, and he could win some Olympic medals, too. He could definitely win a medal for mumbling in his sleep; in fact, he would get the gold. When he mumbles in his sleep, he normally says a word or two that I can understand, but most of it is random sounds.

Some of the things the hubs has mumbled this past week:

Scheleraarek….then the tomato said kaaskldf.

Rrrrrrrrrumph chocolate coookksss rrrruffff.

Selerstoni STOP IT! Yeah, slosterfffun…

See what I mean? Maybe in four years sleep mumbling will be a recognized Olympic sport. If that happens, you know the hubs will be there, getting the gold!

Home, Home on the Range

Home, home on the range! Where the deer and the antelope play!

We’ve seen lots and lots of deer and antelope on the range the past few days as we’ve been chugging across the great state of Wyoming.

This is neither a deer, nor an antelope. It’s an elk crossing the road in front of us. We’ve seen lots of those on the range, too.

This is also neither a deer, nor an antelope. It’s a dog who’s happily staying at the in-laws’ house. I’m afraid that after being gone so long on the bike trip she won’t even remember who I am. I’ve thought about asking them to hold her up so that I can Skype with her, but that’s probably a little excessive, so I’ve refrained.

I’ve always liked that song about the range, and as we travel across Wyoming I see what they’re talking about.

Home, home on the range! Where the deer and the antelope play. And seldom is heard a discouraging word, and the skies are not cloudy all day!

I always thought this song was saying that the word “seldom” was a discouraging word that, for some reason, was always heard on the open range. It was not until I was in college that I finally realized that it meant that discouraging words are rarely heard on the range. I was a little slow on the uptake there.

More things that I didn’t figure out until way after I should have:

  • You don’t have to use only old bread when making french toast. The hubs is convinced my mom told me this because she did not want to make french toast as much as I asked for it.
  • At weddings when they say, “Speak now, or forever hold your peace,” it doesn’t mean that you should be quiet lest you lose your piece of pie. I was in my twenties before I figured that one out.
  • The old hymn actually says, “Oh, come, King eternal,” not, “Oh, come, kinky turtle.”

One thing that I will probably never figure out is what the hubs was talking about in his sleep this past week. We had a rest day planned one day this week, which meant we got to sleep in for a change. Of course, no one told my internal clock, so I woke up at 4:30 am, ready for another day of driving while he biked. While I stared at the clock, not believing that it was still saying 4:35, the hubs started to talk in his sleep.

Hubs: I think it’s, it might at least, going to blow up.

Me: Hmm…you awake, too?

Hubs: The volcano…there it is.

Me: Ugghh… why can’t you be awake like me?

Hubs: Yeah… it might.

Then he didn’t say anything else, and I resumed my futile attempts to sleep for a few more hours.

The hubs has another week of biking along out west, so who knows if he will talk any more in his sleep. I am fairly confident, however, that I will rarely know what on earth he is talking about when he does.