No super interesting updates here. Just some gag me lovey dovey stuff and some moments that might seem a little more... realistic?
This morning I was talking with Matt on the IM'er. I pause and smile. There was a lull in our conversation, and I was starting to get hungry. I told him I was going to pop an english muffin in the toaster (these are right up there with chocolate milkshakes for me. I love the things!). Of course, I got in the way of that. I am so easily distracted sometimes, it's outrageous. I was commenting to Matt right after I told him I was leaving to grab some breakfast about how I needed to shave my legs. I'm sure he was thrilled to hear about that (and happy he isn't home to see them? Nooo, he loves me, hairy legs or not, right Matt?) Because of course, sometimes my mind thinks childlike with a million thoughts a second and I was wearing pajama capris, so naturally, I noticed my o'natural legs (they weren't that bad though, really). Oh, maybe I should share about those capris. I warned you I have thoughts coming at me a mile an hour. (Edited to say: Yeah, thanks Matt for pointing out my thoughts hardly ever make sense, even in writing....a mile a something...Apparently, I was thinking slowly at the moment :) ). When Matt and I were first married, I sometimes wore his green P.T. sweatpants to bed. They were very large on me (too small for him) but sooo comfy. To make them even more comfortable, I cut them into capris. They're kind of like pirate pants on me because they're big. Matt doesn't recommend I wear them in public, especially around the military...I guess it looks disrespectful, go figure. They just need someone to design their clothes with a little pizazz right?
Ok, so where was I going with this English muffin story? Oh yes. I got distracted (ha!) and told him about my need to shave. Well, then my hunger took over and, I typed a real quick, "ok muffin!" because I needed to get that muffin. So, naturally he asked if he could call me bagel? Ha-ha, Matt. No thank you. I liked that better than his next name, "or maybe my poppyseed bun?" That sounds very flattering, Matt.
I guess if you think about our nicknames, they aren't particularly flattering. Like our Bubba names. He is Bubba to me, and I am Bubba to him sometimes. Why? I happen to have an answer, sort of. One night, early on in our marriage, I told him I didn't like or want to be called, "Baby." It's just not a favorite of mine. He never called me that, to my knowledge, but I wanted to make it clear anyway. :) So, he jokingly called me Bubba once (I guess he thought it was a good replacement). I think of a very large man without the greatest hygeine when I hear Bubba, but oh well. It actually means Brother I guess. Anyway, somehow I got used to it, and it stuck. It popped out of my mouth one time for him, and all is history (though now it's usually Bubbs or Bubb). We're goofy, hopelessly goofy!
Another goofy moment in our history. Matt and I don't argue very much or "fight," which I am very thankful about. We try to make it a point to talk respectfully and work things out whether we agree or disagree on some things. We're both kind of laid back, but we have our moments sometimes. Like this one. Matt got me a bike for Christmas. It being winter, we didn't have much time to try it out. Then summer came, and we were busy, and thinking about his recall date fast approaching, we didn't go much over the summer either. Right before he left, early in October, Matt wanted to go out for a run. I wanted to go with him, but he wanted to go faster than I could, so I decided to ride my bike. There, that solves it. Matt was a little stressed about the upcoming changes in a few days, and the weather wasn't so great, and he just wanted to go do his thing. It turned out to be a situation almost like a kid brother or sister tagging along. As soon as we start out, it begins to rain, very hard. For some reason, I can't keep up with him running and me on my BIKE. Umm, either he's a little upset and running really hard, or I'm really out of shape and something's wrong with this bike. Not even 5 minutes into the run/bike ride, one of my pedals just falls of my bike. I was laughing hysterically, unable to move, and trying to yell out to Matt a mile ahead of me. He called a frustrated, "what?" and had to back track to me. I am still laughing because I find it so random that my pedal just falls completely off my bike. Matt tries to get it back on, but it's pouring, and he can't get it on without some tools, and he just wants to run!! Poor guy. I let him run, and I walked my bike up the hill back home. In the pouring rain. Next to the college classrooms. I'm sure they were wondering why I was walking my bike in the pouring rain. I tried to make my broken pedal visible. Would that help? Oh man. I guess this is one of those times you all had to be there. My husband is wonderful. He came home in a much better mood and fixed my bike later. No permanent damage was done ;)