Spring Dreaming

Matt nudged me this morning, saying, “Honey…the sun…look!” He neglected to mention that it’s also Friday. Ah, so happy.

We had several “OMG!” moments this week, but it passed, as things do, and tonight we’re going to snuggle close over a relaxing feast at R Bistro. I’m turning Matt into a regular foodie.

….Which leads me to the dilemma he’ll be facing soon when he travels to Dubai and India: what will that boy possibly eat? He’s a wee bit of a steak and pasta kind of guy (no steak in India), so I told him I’ll pack him lots of snacks for the trip. He plans to live on beef jerky (possibly the grossest “food” known to mankind). I shudder.

Not that I want to see him go, but I love the missing part. A little separation is good. I’ll miss the daily email exchanges and his call every afternoon at lunch time to “see how I am,” but honestly, I revel in doses of alone time. He’s downloading Skype to my computer, and loaning me his microphone so that we can talk every day. I wouldn’t tell him this, but that makes me purr inside.

My friends across the country are saying, “Come here for a week!” San Francisco is tempting. Free plane fare to any Hip show (currently on tour – tickets on sale now) is even more tempting but, strangely, I look forward to my role of taking to /picking up from the airport, hearing him on Skype and awaiting his return. It’s romantic, and I’m a sucker for that.

We’re planning our own trip when he returns. We’re considering Ixtapa, as we both like Mexico. I haven’t been to the parts where he has been, and vice versa. We may settle for Florida. Where ever it is, it’s going to be hot, and there’s going to be sand and a whole lotta lovin. After all, Spring is in the air.

His company just acquired a very large distributor in Denmark, and minutes after congratulating him for finally closing the deal, I said, “Let’s move there!” I’m pretty sure I was born to live in Europe – I absolutely love it there. Matt said, smiling, “Hmm…could be a possibility.” Oh please oh please oh please. I can write anywhere!

One of my favorite memories is the day I took a bike ride by myself in the countryside of France. I rode one of those big “Dorothy” bikes from the Wizard of Oz, and I swear a huge baguette on the back would have completed the look. I stopped and took photographs, picked wild flowers, walked in fields of lavender and waved to the locals—I want more days like that.

Matt and I kick around a California move a lot – I was “made” there, and he was raised there, and we both certainly have the laid-back attitude (and blonde locks). But there’s history, culture and sophistication throughout Europe that no city in America contains. Certainly not Las Vegas, and by no means Reno. I’m fairly certain of that.

We’ll figure it out; we’re both seekers, so that’s half the battle. And now I must go write something for a living…

Sweet Comic Valentine

Damn it, if I were cooler and had a Myspace account, I could emoticon my present mood, but I’ll just have to verbally express it here: sick of winter.

Valentine’s Day was good: Matt and I celebrated our first date and first kiss by eating at the Rathskeller for dinner…where we had our first lunch date two years ago. Suddenly a German biergarten seems wildly romantic.

It was such a cold, snowy night. We’d enjoyed two snow days at home, a whole lot of lounging around making each other laugh, and last night I got him to watch Breakfast at Tiffany’s. Nothing bad could ever happen there.

A little e-drama came in from Tyrannosaurus Ex, but now I just shrug and go to sleep. I look back over the past two years and realize that so much has happened, but it’s all good. It’s like eating scrambled eggs in the diamond section pretty much every day.

Up All Night

I have been in fighting relationships before, relationships that turned me into a yeller, and relationships that turned me into a mouse. With a couple of boyfriends, the authorities have yet to find the bodies. It is nice to finally be in a relationship where we rarely, if ever, argue. Sure, we’ve had some blow-ups over the past year, but Matt finally backed his bus out of the cul-de-sac and parked on my street, leaving us nothing but time on our hands, always happy.

When we do fight is while we’re sleeping. Each night I have to come up with my escape route for Matt’s utterly chaotic 8-or-so hours of slumber. I have never experienced anything quite like it.

First of all, he talks in his sleep. No secrets have ever been revealed, but often he’ll sit up and say things like, “I told you not to go in there!” or “Damn it, I don’t know!” and I wake up thinking, “What the hell?” He’s a vivid dreamer, and he physically participates in them.

The avalanche: Often times, in the middle of the night, Matt lifts the blankets and sheet, rolls over in mid-air and “lands” on me, while also pushing me to the edge of the bed. Regularly, this leaves me less than 1 inch of personal space in which to, ahem, rest.

The gate: When I feel the avalanche about to erupt, I lock one leg down, creating a gate that he can’t get past. This eliminates being completely pushed off the bed, which I have experienced. When getting pushed off the bed I simply get up, go to his side and sleep on his pillow until the avalanche erupts in the other direction.

A tip for sleeping with someone like this: always keep a reserve of blankets wadded up near your head so that you can fist them pretty quickly. Obviously, I’m a light sleeper, and can think through these scenarios consciously, reacting appropriately.

After Matt’s consumed a few beers and/or a few glasses of wine, I really must be on my toes, so to speak. Last week, after being pushed off the bed at 3 am, I got up and took digital photos of him lying in the pile of blankets...on my side of the bed. I showed him my proof in the morning, threatening to publish it here. He shrugged. I really don't scare him, I'm afraid.

I like the idea of spooning, but I'm a spooning menace. I mean, it’s nice to start out that way, but within ten minutes I’m usually hot or uncomfortable. But I find him in the middle of the night, snuggle and get warm again then I shut the gate.

Almost every morning I have a sleeping story to relay; I usually threaten him “if it happens again…”, and we laugh.