I Miss The Intellectual Discussions

My hubs and I often discuss Tolkien. As in J.R.R.  I think that Larry mentions Tolkien and his books almost every day.  I've read Tolkien's books once; Larry has read them 14,000 times.   Now that The Hobbit is going to be a reality, Tolkien might as well be sitting on our couch.  Except that I think that he smoked a pipe, and we don't allow smoking in the house. 

It is almost impossible for Larry and I to have intellectual conversations these days, I have sadly noted. Children will do that to you. I often go several days without ever completing a sentence. Constant interruptions tend to derail any train of thought that might be leaving the station, and when it is all over, Larry and I often both find ourselves at a loss with regard to what we were even talking about.  But BC(before child), we often had very intense discussions that did not involve which children's movie we could stomach over repeated viewings.

I often joke that I had to give up half of my IQ to my kid, but I am beginning to think that is true.  If it weren't for this blog, which makes me stop and think coherently, I might degenerate into a monosyllabic creature, only seen at rare intervals. 

But a couple of weeks ago, I commented that perhaps, based on information gleaned from his biography, Tolkien might have had Aspergers. Larry was affronted; I had maligned a great man. I pointed out that it was impossible to know conclusively that Tolkien had Aspergers; I was merely wondering out loud if the disorder might have been part of what made Tolkien who he was.

Tolkien created an entire language, Quenya. That alone was probably a pretty massive undertaking. He started when he was twelve, I think.  But then Tolkien decided that his language needed some back story.  This is how Middle Earth came to be.  That sort of hyperfocus could have come from someone with Aspergers, in my opinion.

Larry disagreed, but we never actually got to finish our discussion because Zane entered the room.  A couple of days later, I remembered our conversation, and I asked Larry about it.  I wanted him to tell me why he disagreed with me; it was an effort to continue our discussion. I was actually proud of myself for remembering that we had the conversation in the first place. 

My husband looked at me like I was insane.  He had no idea what the heck I was talking about.  It figures.

P.S.  Happy Elvis' birthday!  I plan on having a peanut butter and banana sandwich to celebrate.