This is My Dance Space. That’s Yours.*

I have come to the rather starling conclusion that my husband doesn’t understand a word coming out of my mouth.

Okay…
That was a gross exaggeration. Let me try again:My husband doesn’t understand a good 45% of the words coming out of my mouth.

Language
barrier, you ask?

Perhaps a little spousal miscommunication?

I wish.

And although I sometimes think that he was raised in a cave filled with
prehistoric, club-carrying, unwashed Neanderthals; it’s not the
testosterone-influenced grunting causing the confusion either. (And, no
honey, I wasn’t calling you an unwashed Neanderthal- just suggesting
that you sometimes behave as if you were influenced by a whole tribe of
them. You’re actually very clean, smell nice, and don’t even own a
club. See?)

So if the problem isn’t language, husband ear, or a
caveman upbringing, what is it?

Sadly, it’s me… and his obvious lack
of inclination to be like his dorky (yet hot) wife.

Come to find
out, I am one of those strange creatures known as a "quoter". Yep, I
have an odd habit of interjecting appropriately witty – albeit random
quotes into conversations (and titles, and letters, and birthday cards,
and…). And while I often throw in a juicy tidbit inspired by Voltaire
or Shakespeare or Buddha or Lennon that makes me seem all that is
inspiring and profound *snicker*; my best material is born of such
classics as The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas or choice
lyrics from the songs of the uber-fabulous Cher… Which totally explains why I am always
the last one wearing clothes at the end of  those cutthroat rounds of drunken, naked Trivial Pursuit- The Pop Culture Edition.

Funny
thing is, until recently, I never fully realized just how many of my
"witty – albeit random- quotes" caused my husband to check off another
box on that "Is It Time to Have Her Committed" quiz that he found in a
back issue of Field & Stream.

What finally turned on that proverbial light bulb, you ask?

An impromptu screening of Dirty Dancing, of course.

And
now that he finally understands what "spaghetti arms" means, we’re
going to work on defining the precise meaning of, "If you leave your
dirty clothes on my bedroom floor one more damn time, you’ll be waking
up with old Luca in the morning."

*This entry was totally swiped from Ye Olde MySpace Blog for prosperity purposes. Hope you enjoyed it!

November 19, 2007
Categories: Only Judith


1.©2007 by Courtney Hebert as Judith Shakespeare.
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3.Blog title courtesy of Oscar Wilde, pseudonym Virginia Woolf, design JudithShakes.