Okay, maybe I'll speak ...

So, the promise had practise yesterday.

I have contacted some bastard of a flu, so the dinner and movie date Papi had planned on spoiling me with was reduced to healing ginger tea, throat numbing spray, gallons of water and a 'Shaw on Demand' movie to choose from.

All of this was while sitting on the non-comfort of horrible furniture we're suffering with until they put our house back together and we get to buy new stuff.

I got to pick the movie I wanted.  This was probably due to the fact that I felt so crappy, my love let me choose.  And I chose what I love the most.

Gore.

Machete!  An epic teen boy movie that gave me great giggles of 'ewww' and satisfying scenes of 'oh that was good'!

All the while, Papi put me to work having my finger poised on the pause button throughout the whole 2 hours to allow me the practice of communication about 'it'.

Every time I had to press that little button to stop the movie and talk about 'it', my feet would start to twitch, my face felt like it looked like I had doe eyes and a pinched mouth, and I would squeak out the miniscule words that my throat would allow to exit.

There was talk about the 'moustache'.

Pause.  Ew.

There was my love trying to convince me that being on the lowest dose of that poison that is roaming through my love's already perfect body wouldn't do much to change mi esposo.

Pause.  Cringe.

There was chatter about the possibility of chest and back hair.

Pause.  Twitch.

Then there was the funniest part of all: my love asking me to ask My Other Person if they had bum hair.

I burst into laughter!

"No, I'm not going to ask about that!!"

"I don't mean anus hair, I just mean bum hair."

"I'm STILL not going to ask about that!!"

These are the times I love mi esposo so much.  There are no moments of editing what my love wants to get out from that awesome brain.  Papi is as open as a field in Manitoba.  You get an endless view of what my love is all about.  There are no secrets for Papi, really.

The movie had ended and I needed more throat care.  My love forced me to gargle with salt water.  It's so revolting to me, but I did it.  I gagged with every gargle, as Papi would roll those striking eyes and call me dramatic.

Dramatic?!  Not me!  I'm seriously gagging over here!

There was a great lovely hug from my love after the rinsing from the gargling was over.  Beautiful affection expressed by staring into one another's eyes.  Magical kisses that gives me stomach flutters and goosebumped skin.

I looked deeply into my love's eyes after saying, "God, I love kissing you," and allowed the playful Andréa come out, with tongue in cheek.  I spat out the silliness: "Tranny."

Laughs and lightness filled with the courage of humour.

As weak as I was, my love convinced me to watch a second movie.  I chose this one as well.  I didn't realize it would be a scary one for mi esposo, so Papi wasn't too pleased and sped out to go get mock ice cream for my razor swallowing throat.

I continued to watch a creepy little demon girl ruin the lives of the foster care she was placed into while trying to decide if I'm hot or cold.

It was just another wonderful day in the loving skelton of an empty sewage flood home.

Our hearts filled the barren room quite nicely.

All because I spoke.