My husband is one of the most wonderful people you'll ever meet, truly. Everyone loves him. He's friendly. He's handsome. He's loyal. He's thoughtful. He's a great husband, a great son, a great (read: patient) father and now, a grandfather.
He also is a name-maker-upper for us at home. For instance, if I'm ironing a shirt, he'll find me down in the basement. "Hi, Iron-y!" If I'm cleaning the bathroom, he stands behind me, "Hi, cleany!" (All the time. He does this all the time.) If I get home from shopping, "Hey, shoppy!" Cooking: "Hey, cooky!" I think you see the pattern.
While silly and goofy, those names aren't harmful in any way. They don't hurt my feelings. Silly and goofy were two of my "husband" requirements, as a matter of fact. He has those two qualities in spades, people. In spades. He just comes up with something on the fly.
He's really creative like that.
The birth of "the list" list was created several years ago out of necessity. We were newlyweds, and ever mindful of developing FWS (fat wife syndrome) I was standing in the kitchen having a low carb snack after work while I waited for the coffee to get done. He came in the door from work, big, happy smile on his face, and the first words out of his mouth were, "Hi, porky!"
No. I am not kidding.
No. I am not kidding.
|This isn't me but it sure is cute.|
I was eating low carb pork rinds, not twinkies. And he saw me eating pork rinds, and in typical creative fashion, said that unfortunate word. In quiet protest, I did not make dinner that night, and in addition (just in case he didn't get the hint) maintained a stone cold, icy silence for the rest of the evening, which is my preferred method of communication when I am upset. (Who's with me?)
"The list" was born. There have been remarkably few additions here and there, because ol' what's his name has learned his lesson.
This morning I was getting ready for work, hurrying as usual, running around our bedroom slapping on deodorant and finding my shoes. I grabbed my body spray (what I call smellgood) from
Secret and was spritzing it on. I always
try to arch my back and shake my hair as I do this, like the VS models do, but
even the dog doesn't take me seriously.
My husband wandered in the bedroom to grab his gym bag, saw me spraying,
and says cheerfully, "Hi, smelly!"
He realized right away what he had said and looked like a rabbit with his back foot caught in a trap, trying to get away. Fortunately, my steely gaze pinned him to the spot.
It must be time for a refresher course.