Zen Pear

In our house, the difference between “man” and “woman” can be easily demonstrated with a pear.

NO, I am not about to launch into a diatribe about how my is body shaped, and no there isn’t a standoff over who has to put in this year’s Harry and David orders.

It is this pear. This oversized, decorative, perfect (in my opinion,) pear.
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The Mr, as it turns out, does not “get” the pear.

“What’s that?” Is that a big pear?” He inquired the night I brought it home and awarded it the spot under the family room TV (a high honor – we stare in that direction A LOT in this family.)

He continued, “what is that pear for? Does it hold stuff? Is it hiding something?”   (Do you mean like I am hiding my judgement about your lack of pear understanding, dude?)

No, my dear husband, it does not hold anything, or hide anything or really do anything. Why is it there?

Because, pretty.

Portly, perfect, pretty, pretty pear.

The Mr is baffled by the reasoning behind many things in our home, I have learned.

This sign for instance:
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Or this one:
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These branches seem to confound him:
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Andplusalso my friend the owl:
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Actually that last one isn’t totally true – The Mr is weirdly obsessed with owls. At a later date I have to show you the owl décor he recently brought into my life; but I don’t want to digress, (too late,) and I am not totally sure that the shock has subsided quite enough to bring myself to take a picture of it.

The bare, plain truth of it is, these items aren’t functional. I mean yes TECHNICALLY, dry goods and provisions are kept in the pantry, and if one of the dreaded yard bunnies ever breached the threshold MAYBE the white owl would scare it back out the door. (I’m grasping here, people. Work with me.)

The thing is – “because pretty” is just not The Mr’s idea of why something ends up in a living space. I get that. I respect that. I don’t disagree with that – you can totally use the fancy soap and towels in our bathrooms, yo. (Actually, there are no fancy soap and towels in our bathrooms, because that shit is even too extreme for me.)Through eleven years of marriage I have tried to ease him into the idea that some items’ sole function can actually just be looking pretty.

I know it is hard dude, but come on. I see you side-eyeing my pear.

You don’t have to “get” the pear.

Just let the pear be.

Zen pear.

Shhhhhhhh.

RESPECT THE PEAR!!

1 Comment

Filed under Just Sayin'

One response to “Zen Pear

  1. Pingback: HOORAY for 2015 | Reluctantly Suburban

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