If you’ve been paying attention, you may have noticed that I’m compiling a book from my most popular blogs and some new material. I’m calling the book, “Dancing Bare” and I want a dancing bear on the cover. So I asked my husband (and someone really needs to remind me not to do this anymore, for a variety of reasons) what sort of bear would I be…if I was a bear.
So after a nanosecond of thought, he smiles and says, “A panda…without a doubt.”
Of course, I asked him why a panda. He just smiled and said, “Because you are.”
What the hell, I thought. I don’t wear a mask. I’m closer to a polar bear in coloring. And I wanted to be a brown bear because they match my hair. But no. He says I’m a panda. And he won’t say why.
Fast forward to this evening when I had to pick a topic for the challenge blog. One topic stuck out like a sore…panda. That’s right. Panda bear was a topic! How could I pass up the chance to explore this a little further? So I went in with another attempt to get my husband to explain why I’m a panda. I had a challenge blog to write. He had to tell me…right?
He must have agreed…challenge blog is sacred.
So here is why my husband says I am a panda (not the brown bear like I wanted to be)…
“Pandas are not technically bears,” he started.
Of course, I already knew this, but I didn’t care. I want them to be bears, so they are.
“No, they’re not.” He likes to correct me. Pfft. “Pandas are essentially giant raccoons.”
Right. So I’m a bear that isn’t a bear. I’m a non-bear? I actually asked him that.
“Right,” he says. “You’re a pretend bear in a bear world.”
I repeat this sentence as a question and he nods. I ask him if he realizes I’m blogging this shit. He does. I start to wonder if he wants the world to think he’s some kind of villain. I don’t ask him that, but I suddenly struggle with the urge to tell him to fuck off again.
My need to know more about why I’m a panda prevails and I ask him. “Is that all? I’m just a non-bear in a bear world?”
No. That’s not all. Of course not.
“Pandas are not omnivores. They eat bamboo and that’s it. They don’t like mayonnaise on their egg sandwiches. They don’t like pickles on their cheeseburgers. They don’t want their vegetables to touch their meat or potatoes. They eat bamboo.”
So let’s recap… “I’m a non-bear in a bear world. And I’m a picky eater?”
He stares at the bag of oyster crackers I’m snacking from. “Yep. That’s about it.”
“So this has nothing to do with the black and white coat? Or the cuteness? The mask? The cuddly appearance?”
“Nope. Non-bear…picky eater.”
I keep asking him, “Are you sure? That’s it?”
Finally he makes the “mean” face and says he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. I think maybe I’ve drifted off into an alternate universe, but I know better. I decide to grab a pair of ear buds to listen to music while I write…the non-bear in me likes music apparently…so I plug them into my laptop and turn up the music. It’s barely loud enough to hear so I turn it up. And up again, until it’s at max volume. It’s still muffled, but I can hear my music, so who cares?
“What are you doing?” he asks…mean face still showing.
I “Grrr” a little at him…like a bear…and tell him “I’m listening to music.”
“Uh, so am I…” he pops up an eyebrow and stares at my laptop like he hates it, so I pull out my ear buds to say, “What? Oh!”
I plugged the ear buds into the wrong jack. The music was playing loudly into the room.
“Non-bear,” he says as I switch the jacks.
The music drowns out his reply.
This is why I love a challenge blog.
Until the next time…I’ll be kicking off the Daywalkers “Getting into Character” contest tomorrow!