The other night, inspired by Amber's post about her grandmother, I did an online search for long lost relatives that went back to the mid-1800s.
You see, some of my ancestors are Russian Mennonite missionaries, and so it's pretty well documented. I read about how they died from famine and disease, braved wars and percecution, and eventually came to Canada only to find hard times here too. What fascinated me most was how things have changed over a few short generations. Fortunately, I have never had to experience the horrors that my relatives did.
This was all very fascinating to me and of course, and I shared this news with Jake and Hubs while we watched tv. It was an in passing conversation, sort of an oh, okay, so you're actually Russian, not German like you thought. Cool.
This morning at 4am, Hubs snoring woke me up. This is nothing new, although this time he was talking too. He does this sometimes. It doesn't matter that the only language he speaks is English, somehow when he's sleeping his brain switches to some bi-lingual mode and he begins to loudly converse in some language that only he can understand. Did I mention it was LOUD?
"Gita fros shon mala wankle!"
"Hon," (gentle nudge), "shhh...."
"Howawa ding liatle flow snackle wignle"
Geez, he sounds like a Viagra commercial.....
"Hon...." (harder nudge) "BE QUIET..."
"Li polo noere ablton betuwse!"
"Someone is trying to sleep so would you please shut up?!?"I considered getting my camera, which is beside the bed, and taping his voice to give you all a listen. In my cozy and curled up state, it just seemed like too much work to reach over and actually turn the thing on.
Instead I grabbed my pillow, an extra blanket, and fled in retreat to the living room couch.
"Ahh...peace and quiet."
Squeak....squeak...squeak....squeak squeak squeak squeak squeak
Hamsters really are loud at night, but fortunately that is also easily fixed. After moving Koko to another room I finally dozed back off, waking occasionally because the couch isn't really all that comfortable. However, the reprive from the loud viagra-commercial-like jabbering far makes up for it.
Around 9 am, we were up having breakfast when Hubs revealed the reason he was so vocal last night.
"You know, I had the weirdest dream last night," he began while he fixed himself some toast. "You were actually a spy, and the Russians were chasing you. You were in some motor home trying to get away and I had these machine guns that I was shooting at them. I had to save you-like in the 80s movies where the Russians are the bad guys."
"You found me out! I am a spy and couldn't tell you, otherwise I'd have to kill you. I communicate through my blog, and that is totally why I take so long at the grocery store. So that's what you were doing? Speaking Russian?"
"What, I woke you up? Is that why your pillow is in the living room?"
I really need to tell my bosses that this guy is far too loose lipped in his sleep, and that they need to supply me with some way-cool-spy-gear silencing tool.
Or at the very least, pick up some ear plugs.
Photo by Ten Safe Frogs