I maintain that my diction is perfect and that I enunciate with enough clarity that even the most hard-of-hearing would fully enjoy the richness of a conversation with yours truly. (As long as they enjoy the litany of all I seem to be able to talk about: feeding twins, sleep habits, teething, and the special bond of brotherhood). My superiority in speech is not easy to shoulder for I have a calling – nay, a responsibility – to help people in need with their own diction and enunciation issues.
Most of all, the beleaguered and tortured yin to my yang, Anson.
This guy. First of all, Anson is like tofu a little bit as far as speech patterns go. Put him in a room full of Irishmen, he’ll come out drunk, with a perfect Irish Brogue while hitting a leprechaun with a shelaighlee. He soaks up the accents and speech patterns of those around him. You cannot believe the tears of laughter I cry when he gets Old School Brooklyn on me at home. I mean. I die from laughing. D-E-A-D. It’s murder by humor.
But Anson also has some home-grown speech funnies – words that come out of his mouth that again make me go dead from laughter. He pretends that he’s helpless and that he has no way of correcting these things but I suspect he twists his mouth and mangles these words just to get a laugh. There’s no other reason that my smartee-pants husband who in his spare times watches geek documentaries on String Theory and Quantum Physics has for not being able to fix the following words:
- Whupped Cream. Seriously. I mean – I love the stuff but I’ve almost had to give it up because I have to hear him say “Whupped” instead of “Whipped”. My son Roan has joined the dark side of the Whip/Whup battle. Hopefully I’ll have sway with the twinnies.
- Time Cap-S-YOU-El. As in, rhymes with “mule”. We will not be getting a time capsule anytime soon so that we can avoid talking about it.
- Vase. V-aaaaaaah-zzzzz. Honestly. We are not from money and we do not summer anywhere that doesn’t take food stamps. I do not believe we are allowed to manipulate the long “A” sound in any word until we are significantly more wealthy.
- Marinade. Mar-i-naaaaaah-d. See above.
- Schmear. Ok, he says it like it’s meant but we are not in the chosen tribe and I’m pretty sure Gentiles (particularly those who were raised in Utah) are meant just go ahead and say, “Cream Cheese, please.”
I’m going to stop there because today is also mine and Anson’s 11th Wedding Anniversary. My gift to him is that I stop making fun of him at five words. I know fellas…too bad I’m taken, right?
The truth is, I love Anson like crazy, not for his lantern jaw and rugged stunning good looks, but for his ability to laugh at himself. And for his shocking ability to not get mad at me for laughing along with him. Ok ok ok AT him. But still. He has that ability and that alone has probably saved our marriage about one million times. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it now – love is not too serious. It should be fun and funny with some frustration thrown in between bouts of admiration. There should always be more good times than bad.
Happy Anniversary to my one true love.
[Totally unrelated note: If you haven’t already, go here for details on how to win a $25 Gift Certificate from HomeGoods – my new favorite shopping place.]