I'm late! I'm late!

These are the words Husby used in an attempt to rouse me from bed.  (He was not late, nor was I.)  I was tired, and asleep and content from a late, long night of rabble rousing.  Husby understands that the clearest way to communicate with me is by using verbiage from fairy tales and children's stories.   And to his credit, it did make me sit bolt upright in bed and ask where my white gloves and fan were, before I was awake enough to recognize it was sheer trickery on his part.  Husby's motivation behind his looking glass manipulation was a hankering for Otter Pops at 10:30 in the morning.  They are his kryptonite.  If the grocery store set up hoops, I am certain he'd jump through them.  His love and devotion for all things popsicle is absurd to me, as I can only imagine all of my tics and quirks are to him.  Not that I have any.

A marriage is built on a foundation of trust, understanding, and the ability to maintain a pokerface when your spouse is being idiosyncratic.  So, in the midst of a four day storm, at 10:30 in the morning, I threw layers on to trudge and trek through the elements (really it was only drizzling at this point, and we drove the entire two blocks- but did I mention I was sound asleep?!) to buy multiple boxes of Otter Pops while Husby lamented that they should keep at least *some* in the freezer section for instant gratification, as well as make ones that freeze instantaneously when you snap them, like sports cold packs.  He filled his basket with other delectable 10:30 am items like fruit punch, Big Sticks and mini, individual ice cream cups... wait... those were mine.  (He is such a bad influence!)  We raced home (to freeze the Otter Pops, STAT) and waited impatiently patiently for them to freeze.

Husby consumed five Otter Pops, before I could even say "You are going to turn into an Otter Pop."  Usually he eats them while lying on his back (quirky?  yes, but I always maintain a stoic visage) and when he does this, he resembles an otter, and it really is quite adorable.  Before he left for work today, he said in a thoughtful tone "We should go to the Monterey Bay Aquarium next week."  (Obviously missing his furry sea-friends, I quickly agreed.)  I think for Christmas I will get him a flat rock for his tummy, so he has a place to balance his waiting-for-consumption pops, as well as his empty pop-pouches.