Monday, June 4, 2012
"..for the night is dark and full of terrors"
Steve and I have been watching the second season; always on DVR 20 minutes late because we want to be sure the kids are tucked in before we watch the gratuitous violence/sex/blood. After each episode, we read a recap on the NJ Star Ledger; especially the writers who haven't read the books either. Season 2 just finished last night. I'm hungry for more. (I'm relieved that Peter Drinkage's character survived Season 2 - LOVE him)
Good thing our local library has all of the books available. I'll just have to wait my turn for the printed ones, or see about borrowing the audio CDs for my long drive to Wisconsin.
Actually, that sounds like a super idea. Back in the day, when I was doing my best contribution to gas consumption, I was listening to epic tales told in classy accents to keep me interested and awake all those long miles between home, rehearsals and concerts. I listened to all of the Anne Rice Vampire novels. ("Lestat"...... in a long, breathy voice. delicious!) And a few other forgettable series books that were on the limited audio book shelf in the Bowling Green public library. I actually got through the Council of Elrond on audio only because I was paying attention to the incredible sexy British accent. Before that, each time I tried so hard to read it so that Steve and I could have something of his youth to share - but I kept falling asleep. (this was before Peter Jackson's films)
Here's a little secret: I'm a sucker for accents. Some older ladies get a heart flitter when they see a muscle guy. I can appreciate the work that goes into body building. But my head turns at accents. Next, my fancy goes to the ballet dancer physique. Then, tickle my interest with a great sense of humor... If you have all three, I'm not supposed to talk to you. Although being married for nearly 20 years, and meeting plenty of accented, funny male dancers, I'm pretty sure I'm not going any farther than fantasy.
But when my menopausal hormones are cooking up hot and sweaty night sweats, and I need a shower at 3am because my dreams are scaring the pajamas off me....
.... yes, the night is dark and full of terrors.
then I crawl back into bed with my handsome, funny, gentle husband. He waits for me to give him a signal that it's ok to touch me, and he pats me wherever his hand finds me. And I fall asleep knowing that he's there for me, as I will always be for him.