Jessica and I break into song with frightening regularity. All it takes is us both being in a good mood (frequent) and doing something even remotely fun together (common), and one of us will utter a phrase that sounds even a little bit lyric-like, and it’s all over. We often sing songs about making dinner, for instance. “Dinner, dinner, we’re just a coupla sinners, dinner, oh dinner, we’re just a coupla spinners.” Jessica in that instance would start spinning, see, and then I would. They’re usually total nonsense and accompanied by embarrassingly awkward dancing. “Is that the dinner song?” I might ask after we’re through. Jessica will nod smilingly.
We sang some sort of dinner song last night as Jessica made us an asparagus and potato frittata. We probably sang about frittatas. It was delicious. Earlier in the day, I’d made us burgers on Vital Vittles 9-grain bread with sauteed mushrooms and tomato and avocado, and needless to say*, they were fantastic. I think we sang a burger song.
*[Whenever I say “needless to say,” I always have the urge to just stop there. “Needless to say.” Pause. Blank stares. Shrugs. If there’s really no need to say it, why say it? Why must we always play by society’s rules?]
As we were fading off to sleep, she said to me, “you know, I only have three major life goals.”
“And what are those?”
“One, is to marry my beloved,” she began. “So, uh… check!” she said while making a checkmark gesture with her finger.
“Well, not yet,” I pointed out.
“Oh yeah,” she continued. “Two, is to get a puppy.”
“Ooh, good one.” She tells me about 5 times a day now that she has found the perfect puppy for us. She’s been writing papers for school and takes frequent “puppy breaks” to look at shelters online. Today, for instance, she proclaimed that we should get a cocker spaniel.
“And three,” she went on, “is to live my life inside a musical.”
She loves musicals. And though I may occasionally claim not to, I like them too. When my sister Katy and I were younger, we got to rent two movies on Saturday nights. For a fairly long time – years, maybe – Katy only rented musicals. All the classics, of course – West Side Story, The King And I, My Fair Lady, The Sound of Music, anything with Fred Astaire & Ginger Rogers, and so on. Katy’s favorite was Seven Brides for Seven Brothers, which she watched over and over and over again, about which I mainly remember (1) the famous barn-raising scene and (2) that one of the seven brides was named Dorcus, an unimaginably hilarious thing for a young boy. Looking it up on Wikipedia, it’s really kind of a crazy movie, ending with a 6-couple shotgun wedding. Also of note: it is loosely based on an Ancient Roman tale called The Rape Of The Sabine Women; but don’t worry, in this case the word ‘rape’ means ‘abduction.’
This morning, Jessica told me that she dreamed about our wedding. I didn’t really react much. Probably a “how ’bout that” for good measure. But then she kept talking, as she so often does. “It’s the first time I’ve dreamed about our wedding!” she exclaimed.
I stopped dead in my tracks.
“My God,” I said. “I never have! That’s the first time either of us have dreamed about it! What was the dream?”
“Well,” she said, “everyone forgot to do everything and it was a disaster.”
“But,” she went on, “it was awesome. It was a fantastic party and everyone had a great time.”
We both agreed that this was a good omen. Because you know what? Some things will go wrong. People will forget to do things. S**t will get f***ed, if you’ll excuse my language (and even if you won’t). But I’m sure we’ll have a great time.
And if everything goes wrong, well, we can always break out in song.
PS – Jessica made me bleep out the swears.