Saturday night the Husband came in wearing his bright red Geek-A-Thon t-shirt. The shirt proudly proclaims its wearer a “geek” on the front, and on the back it has all the info about the event, during which volunteers come to repair donated PC’s that are then given to middle schoolers who need them. This is soooo him. I love having a geek for a husband.
So we’re getting ready to turn in and he picks up a paperback copy of Dune, by Frank Herbert, his current read (or re-read).
“What’s Muad’dib doing today?” I inquire politely. I’ve been getting these mini-Muad’dib updates each night for a week now, and reliving my high school memories of this book along with the Husband. (All the enjoyment of the original experience in only a tenth of the time!)
“Well,” he says, inhaling deeply and revving up his professorial tone, “Maud’dib has now defeated the Padishah Emperor and his five legions of Sardaukar (soldier fanatics), and has brought the galactic powers to their knees.” My eyes widen in awe. Such a lot of man-work!
“Now all he has to do is have a knife fight with the evil Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.”
I consider this, feeling a rousing thrill of womanliness. I could faint, you know. I sit up in bed, pulling the sheet up to cover me (I’m making this up now), and narrow my eyes at my geek husband, who’s pulling on his flannel jammies.
“How come you never have knife fights?” I ask.
He stops, mid-jammy, and considers this seriously. “I don’t have a knife,” he says. And I realize it’s true.