I don't think I have ever seen a more accurate description of Puppy Guts and I damn near lost my mind laughing at this picture. We truly feel ourselves to be a passionate and graceful couple, but the reality is, we're a couple of perfectly matched weirdos who happened to find each other out of all of the rest of the weirdos in the world.
The funny thing is, I think this is probably accurate about all people in relationships. Let me explain....
Who doesn't think they have a great relationship when they're in one? (I mean a real one. Not one of those fake ones where one or both is not happy , but they stay anyway because... Well, because....I don't even know.) But to the rest of the world, they are a couple of goofballs. But being a goofballs is who they are and they're happy. What's the problem with that? It's not really anyone else's business what happens behind closed doors and stuff and if the intent between those two people is true, regardless, I believe that the top picture holds true every time regardless of the weirdness or the level of goofiness. (Although, Morticia and Gomez were pretty weird.... But their passion and love for each other is true.) Soulmates are soulmates regardless of whether they're graceful, pretty people, or just a couple of goofballs like my Puppy Guts and me. <3
I love that I have my Puppy Guts and that I love him so much that I can miss him SO much. It's not that I like the idea of missing him, but just having someone that I can miss that much and DO miss that much when he's not around is kind of special. It's a rather warm and fuzzy feeling to have a special someone in your life to miss and know that the same special someone misses you when you're not around too. Then to have that "HURRAY! You're HERE!!!" moment when you do see them again. Yes, Puppy Guts. Every time! <3
It's not all the time that I have a "better than you" moment. I'm just your average mortal, living an average life (for the most part), getting by in an average way. Meh! What can I say? On most days, I can leave my delusions of grandeur at the door and live in reality, even though it's not as much fun as the alternative.... But, whatever. I know that as far as my life goes, it's pretty "normal" and average for the most part.
Average for the most part, EXCEPT for the fact that I have the man of my dreams. I don't know what I did in a past life or many other past lives, but I have truly come to the conclusion that I have been given, from the heavens itself, the man that I have been dreaming for, hoping for, wishing for and a whole lot extra heaped on top. He is everything I knew I wanted and quite a few things I didn't know I wanted all in one.
How often can one say that about their mate? I mean, up until now, I didn't really appreciate the term "soul mate", I didn't think it was possible to have anything other than "mediocre" in a relationship because, well, let's face it, I really didn't have anything else to compare it with and I thought that "happily ever after" only happened in Disney movies and fairy tales and shit like that.
I find it cute that we have people who pretend to be us and pretend to have something similar to the relationship that we have, but the veil is so thin that it's "make believe-y ness" really shine more than the relationship that they only pretend to have. They hadn't taken the time to get to know themselves well enough as well as get to know each other and discover that everything just fit. We didn't have to make the pieces fit like so many posers. They just did. I know there are quite a few many people who know what I'm talking about and I am very sure that there are those going into complete denial over those last few statements.
Bah.... Whatever. I'm enjoying my moment and I'm going to bask in the fact that I have it.
My Dearest Puppy Guts is my sanctuary. Being at home with him gives me a sense of peace regardless of what's going on around us. Whether it be tackling an adventure involving all six of our children, or spending quality time alone, just the two of us, there is something to be said for wanting to spend every moment savoring the time spent with someone.
There used to be a time when I couldn't wait for certain people in my life to leave and I'd feel relieved when they finally went somewhere else. Then when they came back, I almost got depressed. And when they were around, I was doing everything I could to avoid said person at all cost. How sad an existence is that? And now here I am and I love spending the time with my Puppy Guts and I enjoy every second and lament it when the time is gone. :sigh: I love this feeling of bliss.
I find myself thinking about all the things I want to say to you on your birthday. "Happy birthday, I love you!" just doesn't seem to cover the gamut of all the things I want to express to you. I've posted and told you in person, face to face everything that you mean to me and everything that you are to me and yet it still doesn't even begin to cover everything that my heart and soul feels every day. It doesn't even begin to express the feelings and emotions that I have at the mere thought of you. You have more of me than anyone ever has. For every thing that you have ever told me I was for you, you are a hundred times that for me. We've seen and done so much and accomplished quite a bit. I know that there is SO much more of the world out there and I know we will be able to conquer it all, as long as you are by my side. So, on this day, I'll just say thank you. Thank you for being here, being everything that you are and being mine. XOXOX Happy Birthday, My Love. Always.
We may not have a lot and we'll probably never live an extravagant life, but I know that we will always have an abundance of love, passion, honesty, trust and snugglies. I can share everything and be at my most vulnerable and still feel safe and secure with him and he feels the same way with me. He shows me incredible amounts of love in an act of passionate ...um... private time, or within a single touch, the intent behind every whispered "I love you" or even a silent caress of the cheek is felt right down to my core. I am never in a want or need because he gives me all, every day.
Our time together is precious and we don't waste it with the trivialities of stupid things that would rain down negativity on our parade. Sure we talk about everything and share in the burdens of our woes from past baggage, present issues and worries of the future, but that's the way it should be. There are battles that need to be fought on our own, but knowing that we have each others backs with no fears, no secrets, no reservations and nothing to hide is actually kinda cool. I've never had someone understand me or know me better. EVER. Because of that, it makes our snugglie time better. Nothing but being zen in a blissful moment, at one with my Lucky, snuggled up on the couch or where ever and chillin'... Nice!
Being a midnight shift cop, my poor Lucky, he does not do too well in sunlight. He's whiter than the whitest white thing. I mean SO white, he practically glows in the dark. One good thing about that is, if there is a power outage, I'll always be able to find him in the dark. Sunlight confuses him. He wears dark sunglasses and he will commence with the whining in having to be in it. He can be inside and look out a window and ask, "What is that? That bright, white stuff outside... I don't like it... " Mew, mew, mew... <Sigh!>
Stepping out into the light can get very disorienting for him. The hesitant step out and trying to touch the light, pulling his hand back as if it was in excruciating pain because the light touched him and the sad, pathetic look that sweeps across his face as he nurses his poor wittle hand he holds to his chest... Oh, and let's not forget the sad little pout.
It takes quite a bit of coaxing and reassurance to get him to get outside, but I do try my best to do it without laughing... Much... He needs his vitamin D.
It seems that my wordy way of expressing and declaring my love for my dearest has been misunderstood and thought of as rather twisted.
Like:
"I
want to club you like a baby seal and play in the puddle! Squish you
until your head pops off and bat at the rest of the parts that are left
twitching! Maybe roll around in the mess and lap some of it up before
taking a nap in the warm gooey mess! I love you THAT much!"
Or the nickname or pet name that I've chosen for him, "Puppy Guts", is something less than endearing.
Let's just clarify this right now. It is not that I condone animal cruelty of ANY variety and it is NOT these violent acts of wanton destruction of ANY creature's life that is the focus of my descriptions of love.
I have always thought that the phrase "Loving some to death" to be funny. "I love you to death!"... Really? I think that's more twisted than anything else. The phrase really should have been, "I love you 'TIL death", but I won't get into the semantics...
I just like to put more of a twist on it. If it has to be that we love someone to death, then shouldn't it be done with passion and total commitment just as it would loving someone 'TIL death? Maybe it's just me (usually is...), but I think that there is a lot of that lacking these days.
It's not that I want to beat dear Lucky to a pulp and roll around in the mess I'd make. (Although, I have told him that I would punch him in the face if he needed me to and if it would make him feel better...) But just "loving someone to death", seems very empty and hollow. Even the words "I love you" alone are rather empty and hollow and meaningless if the intent behind them is not there or is not felt. And if I have to explain it any more than that, I suppose you just don't get it and you never will... You have my pity.
As far as my calling him Puppy Guts, it's not that I want to SEE puppy guts. (The guts belong inside the puppy, let's leave them there. ) Pet names are sweet and cute and "AWW!" ...and all too common. Honestly... I hate the idea of calling MY one and only by a name that tens of thousands of other people might be calling their "significant other".
So, when you think "cute", you think puppies and kittens and fuzzy baby ducks and fluffy cute things, right? I took a cute fluffy fuzzy and tacked on something... else. Puppy Guts almost sounds cute, but the way the words are put together... Eh... But it works. I look at him and I know, he's MY Puppy Guts. If I call out "Puppy Guts!" in a crowded anywhere, he's really going to be the only one who answers. It's a random string of words that mean something to the two of us and perhaps no one else, in a way that evokes love and affection between me and my Puppy Guts.
...Yes ...He calls me his Kitten Puddles... As in the result of mashing a kitten under a boot heel...
My Lucky will go charging into the woods at night in a blizzard to help look for lost children. He will take apart a car and put it back together running better and faster. He can be an all night love machine, keeping the motor burnin' stoopid hot. He can fix shit, shoot shit, cook shit, beat the shit out of something or someone if the need arises. He loves cars and other things that go "Vrooom!" and food, guns, dogs, bacon, movies with explosions and gratuitous violence. He can handle pain and blood, goes to the gym and works out hard, works hard, plays hard and gets the shit done. A hairy, sweaty, knuckle dragging man's man by every definition.
But spiders? Um... No. ♥
My man (all MAN, to be sure!) , next to my children, has been one of the greatest things that has ever happened to me. Besides the fact that he is someone who I can be weird around and weird with, he is passionate, caring, sensitive, helpful, adoring, loving, supportive, nurturing, giving... This brave soul loves me unconditionally, appreciates me for who and what I am and despite the insanity that is my life at the moment, he is a constant source of strength when I feel mine faltering, of courage when mine escapes me, of support when I feel I'm falling, of laughter when I am sad, of stability when I feel like I'm losing my mind. I always feel loved, wanted, needed, appreciated, beautiful, thought about and never forgotten whether he is sitting next to me or he's not. I never have to question how he feels about me because he let's me know everyday, he shows me every day.
I call him "Lucky", but I think I am the lucky one...
Although Lucky and I don't get to spend as much time together as we'd like, when we do spend time together, it is quality. The enjoying of each others company. The simple pleasure of sharing with each other. Debating the pros and cons of hummus (still yucky!) And lets face it, it can be fun to violate the snot out of each others personal space too. We talk, laugh, eat, play, sing (badly), dance (even worse), go out, stay in, live and love. We share in each others triumphs and woes and battles. We support each other when it really is a matter of one of us having to stand alone. Sometimes, it's just the two of us. Other times we share our time with friends. It may not be every day, but we're coming to find that it isn't really about the quantity as much as it is the quality. Would we like to have more of this "quality" time? Sure. Is it possible? No, but there's not much that can be done.
In the meantime, what we can do is make sure that the time we do have together is something that will fuel us and carry us to the next time. Keeping the positive a positive and moving forward. Life is short and with all that is going on in the world, I will be damned if I will have any negatives tainting and poisoning something that I hold precious and dear.
If there ever was an acceptable, public orgasmic moment...
Sometimes Lucky gets these itchie spots on his back that sneak up on him out of NOWHERE. You would think the way they pop up, someone poked him with a hot needle and made him jump up about two feet. It's cute! It's almost like what a dog looks like when they scare themselves out of a sound sleep when they fart.
So, we were walking along, when BAM! He got hit with an itchie spot from hell. It's usually right up and down the spine, a little to the left or right or one of the shoulder blades, depending... This one was particularly bad... The little itchie bit moved around a lot. I had to chase the itchie spot all over poor Lucky's back. My poor Puppy Guts looked like he just wanted to crawl out of his skin.
When I finally GOT the itchie and vanquished it with my mighty scratching powers of doom, the look on Lucky's face (You know... The initial "Oh, YEAH!", then the slack jawed, eyes rolling back in the sockets...), with the sounds he was making (OH MY GOD! OH, Oh, oh , oh, OH! YEAH! YESSSSSS! Yeh heh heh heh hessssssss! OH! WOO HOO!!!! Don't stop yet... Don't stop yet... Keep going! Keep going! Wait... Left... No, back a little more...Please! Yes... OH! BABY!) Then the goofy, post orgasmic grin...
My Honey Bunny Puppy Guts is just so gosh darn adorable and such a goof. It's awesome.
My Lucky always complains about the way he looks. "I'm uneven!" "I'm hairy!" "I'm bulky!"...
I find comfort in having his hunky, warm, furry body in the bed next to me where I can snuggle up to him and sleep. I get the best nights of sleep when I have him close... Purrrrrrr! And for the record, I think my Lucky is perfect just the way he is. For reals! The only thing I would change is his location.
In the aftermath of Puppy Guts' oral surgery, he spent the following day with me. I made him a couple of potfuls of homemade miso soup with pork n stuff and tried my best to take care of him. The following day was a dental visit for two of the little ones. It was the first time we had a drama free dentist visit for them. Guts sat in with one, I sat in with the other, no one got bit, stabbed, slapped, hit, punched, kicked or bludgeoned and no tears were shed. I mean, an absolute first. (The kids aren't too fond of going to the dentist.) Afterwards, we went for a tour of the police department that Guts works at, at which time, we took the opportunity to lock the kids up in a cell. The sound when the cell door closes is something ALL children should hear. It's a pretty finite and spine chilling sound. Certainly very sobering. We snapped a couple of pictures and walked around, met a few of Guts' co-workers, and off we went again. We had a leisurely lunch at a local diner and just made a day of it. It was absolutely delightful.
It's not often we get a day like this because of Guts' rotating schedule and his being a midnight shift cop, but when it does happen, it's simply the best. YAY!
I had to take Puppy Guts to the dentist to get his one and only wisdom tooth removed. It affected a couple of other teeth, which, consequently, had to be removed too. In order to accomplish the teeth extraction, he had to be sedated...... For the first time in his life. Now, considering how the eldest of the brood reacted to HIS sedation, Guts was afraid he might wake up dazed and confused, which could be a dangerous thing considering his size, strength, training and street experience. The doc explained to Guts that it wasn't a full out general he was being given. It was something called a "twilight" sedation. Of course My Puppy Guts responds by saying, "I swear, if I wake up a sparkly, gay vampire, you will never be dead enough....." Then it was lights out, night-night.
Well, it turned out that, although dazed and confused, he was about as dangerous as a three year old ballerina. Why do I say this? Not sparkly, certainly not gay and not a vampire either. Just a fluttery wobbly ballerina..... I managed to get him into the car, at which point, I drove him to the nearest CVS to get his scripts filled. Pain meds, antibiotics and some super medicated mouthwash. While we were waiting for the meds to be filled, he flitted along the aisles in this fluttery movement. His giant head flopped around, leading the rest of his muscular body around, as his arms sort of flopped and waved behind him...... I guessed that it was his drugged mind's version of Swan Lake. It wasn't graceful and he did bump into a few things and I did have to explain to the other patrons that he was still feeling the effects of the sedation from an oral surgery. People didn't seem to mind. They just moved out of his way and enjoyed the show..... It was absolutely adorable. Not long after, I got him home, gave him some soup, dosed him with some pain pills, and an antibiotic, and tucked him into bed. He insists that I may have bricked him in the temple, judging by the way his lights went out. Several hours later, we were back downstairs on the couch and enjoying some time together until it was bedtime for Bonzo again. I put him to bed PROPAH, which he thoroughly enjoyed, and I thoroughly enjoyed, and we went to sleep. I stayed vigilant all night to make sure that he kept comfortable and all his needs were met throughout the night. and he survived his first night.... It was pretty awesome having my Puppy Guts waking up next to me, a little puffy in the face and say, "Thank you for taking great care of me, Kitten.... I love you so much!"
You are always very welcome, Puppy Guts. I love you too. With everything that I am. I'll get you some more soup now.......
I will never know what it's like to have to shave my face on a daily basis.... I think. I don't know, I AM told that menopause does strange things to the hormones, but I am just going with the whole, "up to this point" thing. A good percentage of men shave their faces. And out of those that do, another percentage of them shave every day.... It's starts at around puberty, I guess and it just continues on from there. And I had always been curious about how that all comes about..... So THIS conversation happened:
Puppy Guts was getting ready for work while I was brushing my teeth in the bathroom. There he was shaving when my curiosity got the best of me and.....
Me: So, did your dad teach you how to shave when you were a little kid? Puppy Guts: Mia.... I'm ITALIAN..... My mother taught me.
Jerk.... Do you know how painful it is to shoot toothpaste out of your nose?
My Puppy Guts is such an awesome sport. Seriously. He is my personal trainer, my personal excercise machine, my personal punching bag, punching dummy, sand bag, and training partner, and he basically takes everything that I dish out without a single complaint. Yeah, I'll make it up to him with a back scratchin' or footie rubs or a muscle tapping with a black jack or just an all around massage, but I don't think he gets back half of what he has to put up with. I love him so much!
