2007.11.14 Is there alligator poop in your soup?

Written by David Green.

 

By COLLEEN LEDDY

Is it common knowledge that women marry their fathers and men marry their mothers? Supposedly, women tend to choose husbands who exhibit traits similar to their own fathers and men choose partners similar to their mothers.

I haven’t really given that theory much thought in my own marriage except to notice that David and I don’t seem to have followed this subconscious method of selecting a partner.

David is not at all like my father, and that’s a good thing because copious amounts of alcohol ingestion turned my father into somebody I would in no way want to marry. The list of my father’s bad traits stretches so long and far, David could live several lifetimes and never catch up.

A few weeks ago, David mentioned something about his father worrying about needing to get his eaves troughs cleaned out. I share that same characteristic with Bob: a propensity to worry. Give me any situation and I can contemplate every manner of thing that could go wrong.

“You married your father,” I said, reflecting on that one trait. “I married my mother and that’s a darn good thing.”

My mother was kind, sweet, quiet, responsible, well-disciplined, fiscally responsible, a hard worker who loved to sing and dance.

Had I married my father I would have been stuck with a womanizing arrogant alcoholic, and a beer-bellied bigot to boot. Needless to say, my father was not a pleasant man, and the finest thing my mother ever did was leave him.

David always keep things in perspective and can always make me laugh about the things that make me worry.

The same day I told David he married his father, I recounted an incident from that afternoon that made me think early Alzheimer’s was setting in.

I was in a hurry, driving to the post office, when I saw Kenneth, one of the teens who helped out at the library this summer, walking up the block near the post office. I waved enthusiastically to him and half way down the block realized I had driven right by the post office. I had to drive all the way around the block and I got out of the car just as Kenneth was walking by—so then I had to explain to him I was losing my mind.

“I married my grandmother,” David concluded.

But that wasn’t all. Earlier that day, I was wearing two cardigan sweaters, one had buttons and the other buttonholes. I tried to snap my gray cardigan onto to the buttonholes of my white sweater.

“Yeah, I married my grandmother,” said David, with even more conviction.

Even my dreams are crazy.

Monday evening when I was taking a nap before going to the Observer office, I dreamed that I came home and found David and his brother Dan—and two alligators.

“Who let the alligators in?” I kept asking and Dan finally admitted that he had.

He felt sorry for them because it was getting cold outside. I kept saying the alligators had to go. They were scaring the heck out of me. Every time I turned around there one lay. And I knew there was a third baby alligator and it was nowhere to be seen.

At some point one of the alligators pinned David against the wall by the bathroom and threatened to bite him.

 I was in that half-dream half-sleep state in which I didn’t know what was real. But my dream half was getting scary and my sleep half didn’t want to find out what was going to happen next so I pulled myself out of slumber—to the overwhelming smell of alligator poop.

 As I entered full awakeness and awareness I realized what it was—broccoli soup. I had made it for dinner and the smell of steamed broccoli and the smoked provolone cheese I’d grated into the soup had created quite an odor.

As I wrote down the details of the dream before they dissipated altogether, I heard the little ding indicating a new e-mail had arrived. It was David writing from the office, wondering where I was.

“I just woke up from an hour nap in which I had the most bizarre dream,” I emailed back. “I take it the alligators didn't eat you?”

“I'm missing an arm, dagnabbit,” he wrote back, not missing a beat.

I married a comedian.

  • Front.nok Hok
    GAMES DAY—Finn Molitierno (right) celebrates a goal during a game of Nok Hockey with his sister, Kyla. The two tried out a variety of games Saturday at Stair District Library’s annual International Games Day event. One of the activities featured a sort of scavenger hunt in which participants had to locate facts presented in the Smithsonian Hometown Teams exhibit. The traveling show left Morenci’s library Tuesday, wrapping up a series of programs that began Oct. 2. Additional photos are on page 7.
  • Station.2
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  • Front.leaves
    MAPLE leaves show their fall colors in a puddle at Morenci’s Riverside Natural Area. “This was a great year for colors,” said local weather watcher George Isobar. Chilly mornings will give way to seasonable fall temperatures for the next two weeks.
  • Front.band
    MORENCI Marching Band member Brittany Dennis keeps the beat Friday during the half-time show of the Morenci/Pittsford football game. Color guard member Jordan Cordts is at the left. The band performed this season under the direction of Doyle Rodenbeck who served as Morenci’s band director in the 1970s. He’s serving as a substitute during a family leave.
  • Front.poles
    MOVING EAST—Utility workers continue their slow progress east along U.S. 20 south of Morenci. New electrical poles are put in place before wiring is moved into place.
  • Front.cowboy
    A PERFORMER named Biligbaatar, a member of the AnDa Union troupe from Inner Mongolia, dances at Stair District Library last week during a visit to the Midwest. The nine-member group blends a variety of traditions from Inner and Outer Mongolia. The music is described as drawing from “all the Mongol tribes that Genghis Khan unified.” The group considers itself music gatherers whose goal is to preserve traditional sounds of Mongolia. Biligbaatar grew up among traditional herders who live in yurts. Additional photos are on the back page of this week’s Observer.
  • Front.bear
    HOLDEN HUTCHISON gives a hug to a black bear cub—the product of a taxidermist’s skills—at the Michigan DNR’s Great Youth Jamboree. The event on Sunday marked the fourth year of the Jamboree. Additional photos are on page 12.

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