Posted by: Joelle Burnette | April 30, 2011

Don’t move or the mind gets it!

“I don’t want to walk cuz then I’ll forget what I was thinking about,” said my goofy husband, standing in the kitchen, slapping his hands on his side like a bird attempting flight or like the small child he can be. Actually, his silliness is a good thing, mostly. He keeps me laughing after 18 years of marriage which is the key ingredient preventing us from divorcing.

Screw sex and fuzzy communication; laughter will save a marriage when you can’t pay your mortgage, your boss says they have to significantly diminish your pay, your child’s teacher tells you your child is falling behind (before looking at you like it’s your fault for not spending three hours a night helping them through their homework instead of the usual two) and the doctors tell you it’s time to add another surgery to your life. Laughter is what paves the way for those other important characteristics of marriage.

My generally intelligent husband forgot what he was going to say and instead, he chose to sit down at the breakfast nook where I sat typing away for my other job (aside from being a mom of two) for the daily newspaper for which I write…too much. Out of a pile of clutter made up of business cards, reporter notebooks, newspaper clippings, water guns, remnants from my children’s various art projects, pens, Silly Bandz and bottles of medication, Mark picked up a small piece of tan stocking material sitting on our kitchen table that serves as my office.

He studies the remnant before asking, “What is this?” I tell him it’s from one of those little stockings they give you to try on shoes at the store.

“It compresses down to that?” he responds in amazement as he begins stretching the material.

“No, you idiot. It’s not the whole thing; it’s cut from one,” I say and laugh.

Okay, before you get on my case for calling him an idiot, you must realize, in our house, he knows it’s said out of being silly, but more importantly, our children know this and they (generally) show their father respect. That being said, I have always said, I made no secret of being a bitch when he married me. He knew what he was getting and we laugh as much (or more) today than we did when we were dating. So, fuck off if you want to get into a bitch slap with me over this.

So, I suppose I’ll leave this blog post at that. I plan on writing about my new adventure in my daughter’s potential ADD land (she is getting tested this month), another surgery coming up for me on my foot (go to if you want to read about my recent experience with BRCA genetic testing, my prophylactic bilateral mastectomy and TRAM flap reconstruction and more cancer-related shit – I’m hoping to consolidate everything sometime soon), and more stories about my crazy family.

I hope you’ll return soon. Thanks for reading.


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