Language

We have, over the years, but beginning at the very beginning, created our own world. Two witty people amid Army people, we few who loved obscure references and who'd actually read as well as seen Shakespeare - for instance, spoke in a sort of code even then. We'd both read Douglas Adams and Robert Anton Wilson. He wanted to be Pete Townsend, I memorized Tommy The Who (as one of the albums my brother left behind.) It's the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine) was our song.

We were silly together, often confusing those around us, or nauseating them - hard to tell really. He made me laugh. I taught him to skip. Ok, I tried to. I did get him to look at the moon and clouds, sun rises and sunsets. He would straighten my hat and push up my glasses. I would shake my head over his many shaving mishaps. I would warm my hand in his pocket.

He fell in love with me when I had a bowl cut. (Filipino barbers hired by the army, set up by the score in Saudi to give a last head shave. Women took their chances, but not knowing if I would be out in the sand, didn't much care. Turned out we had buildings, and many of us a line around our head, all shaved beneath.) But I never worry about how he will feel about me because of how I look, because, well, he has always just seen me. In cammo, bad hair, wind burnt, hungry, cranky, ill, and still seems to like hanging around with me. And we speak the same language.

We still call it Lowthering, from The Meaning of Liff, when we are with friends who can't decide where to eat. We call spray oil Sproil. Chicken spread in a small can is Tunachicken, because that's the kind of can only tuna used to be in. Refrigerator Tapas from Rhymes With Orange - when we make a snacky meal out of whatever odds and ends we can find at home.

When we come home, we call out "Hi, we're home!" We did that before we had Moby, too. When D brings in the mail, I ask if we've won. When I get very drowsy in the afternoon, I say the sleep monster has sat on me, with his big fuzzy butt. He always has to go check out the gear of any band. He's sheepish when he drops food on his clothes, and I tell him it's how I will always know he's not a Pod Person.

We quote books or songs, or shows, we both know, all the time. The shorthand of eighteen years together, two eclectic eccentrics who really, really like each other. I still love all his jokes. Especially the bad ones.