Tag: dreams

All Write, Columns

Things My Husband Says

Cindy Hval

This column has been 38 years in the making. In fact, it’s been brewing so long it’s hard to know where to begin.

By now, most readers are familiar with my semiregular compilations of #ThingsMyMomSays – the hashtag I use to keep track of my mother’s amusing musings. But far more voluminous, due to 38 years of close proximity, are #ThingsMyHusbandSays.

Derek has often been cited, quoted and otherwise featured in the 18 years I’ve written in this space. When his buddies ask if he minds being mentioned in such a public format, his standard response is: “As long as she gets paid for it, I’m good.”

Fingers crossed that holds true after today’s column because honestly, he’s provided enough material for a novella-size memoir. See, I’m married to an extrovert who processes almost all of his thoughts audibly – even when he’s sleeping. So much so, “He’s Been Talking in His Sleep” is a category of its own. Other categories include, “Derek’s Malapropisms” or “Dadisms” as our sons call them, “Life According to Derek” and “Married Life.”

I’m sure there are more categories, but I’m already running out of space, so without further ado, here are #ThingsMyHusbandSays.

He’s been talking in his sleep

• In the middle of the night, Derek said something I didn’t quite catch.

“What?” I asked.

“The whole town disappeared,” he said.

“What town? Where?”

“I dunno. I think it was Deer Park.”

At this point, I realize he’s asleep.

“Do you think it was the Rapture?” I asked.

Then came his emphatic reply: “God. Does. Not. Rapture. Zucchini.”

He rolled over and started snoring, but I was awake most of the night worrying about all the zucchini being left behind.

• I was awakened shortly after dawn by Derek’s garbled screaming. I poked him awake. “Are you having a bad dream?” I asked.

“No,” he mumbled. “Winning a prize.”

“A prize for what?”

“Loudest scream,” he says, and rolling over he added, “Now, I don’t know if I won.”

• Around 1 a.m. on a different night, I woke up to him singing “Happy Birthday.”

Laughing, I nudged him. “Why are you singing ‘Happy Birthday?’ ”

“Because it’s nice,” he said.

Then he sang it again.

Derek’s Dadisms

• “I wouldn’t feed that to a dead horse.”

• “I almost bit the farm.”

• “He looks like an uncle I never met.”

• Him: “Don’t forget we need to go to Mad Dog.”

Me: “Where?”

Him: “Angry Dog. The Brewery!”

Me: “You mean Laughing Dog?”

Him: “WOOF!”

• Derek: “I told him I’m tired of you poo-haing me.”

Me: “What did you tell him?”

Derek: “I said, I’m sick of you poo-haing me!”

I think he meant poo-pooing.

Life according to Derek

• While discussing insecurities, my husband confessed, “I’m insecure that my ninja skills have deteriorated.”

“I didn’t know that you even had ninja skills,” I replied.

“See? This is why I’m insecure,” he said.

• Derek had a buddy over to discuss home improvement projects. This is what I overheard.

“Dude, did I ever tell you about the time I got beat up by a blind guy?” Derek asked. “All those fights in middle school and I get taken out by a blind guy in my 40s!”

P.S.: It was at a Bob Dylan concert.

• Read this headline to my husband, “Surprised nun gives birth”.

“Is she surprised she’s a nun?” he asked.

• Potty training our twin grandsons proved educational.

Me: “It’s so cute that the boys wave goodbye to their poop when they flush the toilet.”

Him: “Doesn’t everyone?”

Married life

• I dreamed I had another baby boy. I was in the hospital and looked down and there he was!

“Did you see that?” I said to Derek in my dream. “The baby’s already here!”

In the morning, I recounted my dream to Derek.

His response?

“I hope we got a discount for self-delivery.”

• I got what I thought were aftershave samples in the mail.

I gave them to Derek, who liberally dabbed himself before we went out to dinner.

“How do I smell?” he asked.

“Oh no!” I said. “That is definitely perfume!”

“But you GAVE it to ME!”

“I’m so sorry! I guess I don’t read French very well,” I said.

He shook his head.

“Don’t blame me if dudes are hitting on me all night.”

• Him: “I was trying to replace the toilet paper when the spring shot out, and I dropped the brand-new roll in the toilet.”

Me: “Are you attempting to explain why you never replace the toilet paper?”

Him: “It was a mega roll. It made a BIG splash! Toilet water everywhere!”

• The first thing my husband said to me this morning: “Hey honey, check out this headline, ‘Journalists drink too much, are bad at managing their emotions and operate at a lower level than average, according to a new study.’ ”

This conversation prompted a new hashtag #wearestillmarried.

Let’s hope that remains true after this column!

Columns

In which I WIN the resolution thing. Kind of.

Cindy Hval

The thing about New Year’s resolutions is they are so boring. Everyone tends to have the same ones – lose weight, exercise more, work less, play more.

More exotic resolutions tend to leave me scratching my head – learn another language, make a new friend, take a dance class.

Listen, I have enough problems wrestling with the English language every week. I don’t see the friends I do have often enough, and I’m not about to start dancing at 52. My plié is played out, the only tapping I do is my fingers on my desk while waiting for a file to download, and I’d much rather eat salsa than dance it.

I haven’t always been so jaded about resolutions. Indeed, in my teens I’d regularly fill a journal with my goals for the New Year.

You might have noticed that I didn’t marry Andy Gibb.

Or join the Bay City Rollers on tour.

Or entertain Johnny Carson on “The Tonight Show” with my witty banter and collection of amusing anecdotes that I dutifully jotted in the aforementioned journals.

Resolutions just never worked out for me. Either they were too lofty or too banal. Even the more creative ways to inspire change or achievement proved unsuccessful.

For example, for several years my high school youth group leader had us write letters to ourselves on New Year’s Eve. We’d then receive these missives in the mail the week after Christmas the following year.

None of those letters remain, but I do vividly remember one that began, “Dear Cindy, Please ALWAYS remember you are AWESOME, no matter what that jerk Donny says.”

Actually, I feel much better just reading that sentence. Perhaps, I’ll tape that above my desk.

Recalling resolutions made me wonder just how this tradition began, so I did a little research. (OK, I Googled it, but research sounds better.)

Apparently, the ancient Babylonians started the ball rolling some 4,000 years ago. During a massive 12-day festival they crowned a new king or reaffirmed their loyalty to the reigning king. They also made promises to the gods to pay their debts and return any objects they had borrowed.

Alas, we can’t hold a presidential election every Jan. 1, though one does wonder why the Founding Fathers didn’t consider this concept. However, it is a good idea to start the year by paying off your library overdue fines, and by returning your mother-in-law’s serving spoon that you’ve had since Thanksgiving 2007. Not that I’d know anything about that.

I told my husband I’d gotten a good start on some manageable goals and wanted to add more.

“Maybe I should get a new hairstyle for the New Year,” I mused.

Derek was dismayed.

“Oh no!” he said. “I love your hair. It’s all Farrah Fawcett-y!”

Obviously, “new hair” is staying on the resolution list.

Scanning an online list of popular resolutions, I considered adding “quit smoking” to mine. Of course, I’d actually have to start smoking and then quit, which seems like way too much work just to chalk something up in the successful resolution column.

I found a list of unusual resolutions that intrigued until I got to “make the usual unusual.” What does that even mean? I usually brush my teeth every morning – should I skip it? I usually look both ways before I cross the street, should I throw caution to the wind?

Also perplexing was the suggestion to “fall in love with life in 2018.” I mean, I like life just fine. You might even say I’m committed to it, but how on earth does one measure the success of falling in love with it?

Speaking of success, further reading revealed just 16 percent of people over 50 achieve their resolutions each year, while 37 percent of people in their twenties do.

It seems resolutions are a younger person’s game.

For me I’m going to stick with the basics. Today, I resolved to get out of bed, get dressed and get this column done.

Hey, two out of three isn’t bad.

Contact Cindy Hval at dchval@juno.com. She is the author of “War Bonds: Love Stories From the Greatest Generation.” You can listen to her podcast “Life, Love and Raising Sons” at SpokaneTalksOnline.com. Her previous columns are available online at spokesman.com/ columnists. Follow her on Twitter at @CindyHval.