Saturday, March 10, 2012

Oh, the silly things we do.

Here I go.  It's another one of those strange morning blogs which is writing itself.  It's literally pouring out of my fingertips - almost frightening in a way.  My hands look like the macabre character, "Thing" and his twin sister on the 1970's black and white television series, The Addams Family.  Floating hands moving themselves across the keyboard, hen-pecking away...alright, enough of this nonsense. 

What is pouring out of my mind this morning are the quirky things that Eric and I do as we're having conversations with people. This fascinates and quite frankly horrifies me at the same time. I'll start with Eric because he's an easy target.  Oh, he's going to be so embarrassed when he reads this but he adores me and has sworn to love me until my last breath...which may be when he finishes reading this blog.

He scratches himself.  Why is this?  Is it nerves?  I believe so.  Last night while we were talking to a friend in our bedroom sitting area, I noticed it.  It wasn't so awful  because we were with a close friend; however, last weekend we were at someone's house having dinner and Eric's hand was half-way up his jeans scratching his legs with such ferocity that I actually saw skin dander flake off on the carpet.  Now, I realize that he has Eczema and that he gets very nervous, but REALLY?  There were moments during that conversation that he would look at me and I gave him the most gut wrenching stank eye but he never picked up on it.  Half of me was afraid that if he did, he'd say, "What?"  That's awkward.  It's like trying to kick someone under a table to catch their attention and then they'd scream, "Why did you kick me under the table?"  Not good. 

Case in point, when Eric was in my mom's formal sitting room during one of his first visits with her, he was wearing shorts and sitting directly across from her.  He was nervous.  Yes, he had the need to scratch but this time it was not his foreleg.  He went for the "gold".  Yes, that's right..."Schweddy Balls".  I'll never forget the moment when my mother looked wide eyed at me during his monologue and I had to say, "Eric, are you ok, buddy?"  When he realized what my question implied, I thought he was going to die. What else could I do?  Yes, that's my man.

I also do strange things while talking to people.  I have forests of coarse, hag hairs which harass me on various parts of my neck and chin.  When I'm involved  in conversations, my hand immediately wanders to these patches of facial hair.  It becomes an unconcious reflex sort of like coughing.  I start pulling and tugging at these little bastards.  I've even been known to interrupt discussions with exclamations of joy when I manage to remove one.  I'm ashamed to say I've actually shown people the little buggers. 

Oh, my friends and blog readers, you're reading the words of a twisted individual.  I wouldn't blame you if you shut down your computer monitors in abject terror just knowing that you've been following the rambling thoughts of this lunatic housewife and her hen-pecking floating hands.  Auf wiedersen.