My Homunculus.

It's been a few weeks and I'm still in a tiff.

While enjoying the lovely sand and salty air during our annual OBX vacation, my hubster obtained his first sports injury. We were sitting on the gorgeous drive out beach, laughing and having a great time when the notion of throwing the football came about and Brad trots down into the water to join in the festivities.

I feel that I should point out how huge that act alone was.

This man knows very little about sports. He's the guy in the VW commercial that's trying to show his son how to throw a baseball and makes a complete ass of himself. He "doesn't follow" a lot of what goes on in a game, he tends to tune out when I'm yelling at the TV screen during college football season, he pulls a Sheldon (shakes his head dismissively with a sigh of derision) when I get worked up about a call that was made incorrectly, he doesn't chime in to the conversation when the men he works with start talking sports - so this was HUGE.

{Let me stop right here so you don't get the wrong idea. We poke at each other and ourselves, and his lack of sport has been a running joke for the past 13 years. Humor is a large part of our marriage and I can promise you that he'll be laughing when he reads this later.}

So, the other men are tossing the ball back and forth, with great height and distance, and it's obvious to everyone that Brad is struggling to make it to his cutoff man. He is using every ounce of energy in his body, maximum effort and the other guys are tossing it like it's their job. When they walk back up the beach, Brad says "Wow, I'm exhausted and my arm is killing me. How do you do that?"

See?! It's not a secret.

So, after some lunch was handed out, pictures taken, jokes made, etc, they went back down. Football!!! I was doing the usually tennis-match-style head shaking back and forth when I notice him grab his hand. I had an odd feeling that he'd be backing out soon - I wasn't expecting him to have a sausage finger when he walked back up to me. "Oh yeah, it's jammed alright. Gross."

Mark the books, Brad's first sports injury happened playing catch in NC at age 30. I admit that I had a proud moment, my crazy smart engineer had a super manly moment.

I'm over it.

It sits on my window sill, waiting to be worn.

I want his ring back on.

Yes, we took it off because we were afraid it would be stuck, and it would have been had we not removed it. However, we were thinking that the swelling would go down and after a few weeks it would be able to go back on. Nope. I'm fairly certain that his finger is permanently deformed. His knuckle looks absolutely terrible. I guess we'll wait another two weeks, hope for a miracle and if nothing changes then we'll be buying a new ring. I guess I can't really complain, getting 8 years out of one ring was pretty good.

While I'm uncomfortable with the whole situation, let it be known, ladies and gents, that he is married. I know his boyish charm, ridiculously cute dimple, knowledge of science, ability to fix vehicles, gorgeous blue eyes and crazy sense of humor are all attractive qualities, but you've been warned.

Be advised, I've been using extra fabric softener these past few weeks on his clothing too - because even if he's not currently wearing a ring, a man who smells like fabric softener is a clear indication that he's taken.

Beach football isn't for everyone.