Yesterday I had to shower in the morning so the Dotytron took over the dealing-with-the-newly-awakened-Boobla duties. The Big Yam likes to greet each day by dropping a steaming pile of bass in his drawers. It's his thing. Whatever. I don't know his life, I'm not judgin'. So when I came downstairs to eat breakfast, I asked the Dotytron, "did Big Yam poo this morning?" to which he replied, "Uh, yeah. Major. League." I started laughing and I was like, "Ummm...I don't even know what that's supposed to mean." LOL! So now any time we're trying to describe anything, we're like, "Two words for you: Major. League." It's actually an amazingly elastic descriptor.
I was laughing about it all yesterday, really. I found out recently that people I know are splitting up. The reason given was that their relationship had gradually become more of a business relationship and the so-called magic was gone. Maybe it's because I grew up in a broken home, but I'm always like, super paranoid that that's going to happen to us. Or I'm always sizing up our friends thinking, who do you think is going to get divorced first? I mean, you never get hitched or start living with someone thinking that it could happen. BUT IT COULD. It can happen to anyone! ANYONE. So of course I get all worried and I asked the Dotytron whether he thought our magic is gone and he rebuffed me by saying yes, of course. His preferred way of dealing with me when I'm being irrational is to NOT be comforting and basically say the exact thing that is going to send my paranoid irrationality into overdrive. It's a strange methodology.
A couple of weeks ago, when we took the Big Yam sledding, we ran into our neighbours, the ones who gave us their baby sled. They were out on the hill with their bigger sleds and offered us the use of their disks and fancy snow sledding gear to take a few runs down the hill. I was asking the Dotytron if he was going to go and he said yes, and then he asked me if I wanted to go and I said, no. And then he asked if it was because I was scared, and just joking, I said yes. BUT THEN HE TOLD MY NEIGHBOURS THAT IT WAS BECAUSE I WAS SCARED. I was so pissed! I wasn't ACTUALLY scared. I just hadn't gone out of the house emotionally and mentally prepared to go sledding myself. I just wasn't in the right head space for it. I was so mad at him (like, jokey-mad, mad.) I was all freaked out by what the neighbours would think of me being scared to go down a baby hill and what their assumptions would be. "Why did you tell them I was scared!!!" I hissed.
Anyway, for some reason those above examples came to mind when I was constructing my internal "relationship magic" litmus test. The fact that I find the Dotytron hilarious and that we can be jokey-mad at each other is a good sign, I think. This is what Mindy Kaling said in her book about great marriages:
"My parents get along because they're pals. They're not big on analyzing their relationship. What do I mean by pals? It mostly means they want to talk about the same stuff all the time. In my parents' case, it's essentially rose bushes, mulch, and placement of shrubs. They love gardening. They can talk about aphids the way I talk about New York Fashion Week. They can spend an entire day together talking nonstop about rhododendrons and Men of a Certain Age, watch Piers Morgan, and then share a vanilla milkshake and go to bed. They're pals. (Note: they are pals, not best friends. My mom's best friend is her sister. A best friend is someone you can talk to ad nauseum about feelings, clothing, and gossip. My dad is completely uninterested in that."
Way to go, Mindz. You basically summed it up pretty nicely. Hopefully the Dotytron and I are pals, through and through.
Last night's dinner of beef, barley, mushroom soup w/ thyme and leftover bread that my Discerning Coyote friend brought over.
Tonights dinner: veggie shepherd's pie. The vegetables were sauteed onion, garlic, carrot, celery root, butternut squash, and sweet potato. I was going to add peas but then forgot. Seasoned with curry powder, salt and pepper. Topped with mashed potatoes, topped with cheddar.