He got me into so much trouble once. I accused a friend of being a Romantic (Not A Good Thing in my book) because she thought it was tragic that Helen Hunt was married when Tom Hanks came back in Castaway, and she asked how could Helen not go to him? I – ever the pragmatist – said that it was her duty to stay with the settled-for man, although I agreed it was tragic. Being Romantic gives you carte blanche to say and do what you like and get away with it, I have discovered; whereas we Pragmatics have to cover our backs. Consider me a Pragmatic who ought to think things through. The Hub demanded to know why I won’t be returning to him after his heroic self-rescue from four years being castaway on a desert island. I was cooking a roast dinner at the time so only one part of my brain was functioning and I was left floundering in a sea of potato peelings. Between the roast potatoes and the mashed potatoes I recovered enough to bluster that Helen Hunt was married with a baby, to which he replied, ‘So are you!’ There was no answer to that, so it looks like I’m staying with The Hub.
Between the mashed potatoes and the sprouts it occurred to me that that Helen Hunt is a floozy – a mere four years from misplacing the love of her life, she manages to get over him, meet a dentist, get married, and have a baby…. Hardly pining for poor old Tom, was she? I know dentists are highly prized commodities in American culture (look at all those dazzling teeth; and middle class female characters in American films are always either married to, about to be married to, or have been married to and recently divorced from, dentists) but she must have worked pretty fast, even for a typical middle class character in an American movie. I was therefore able to reassure The Hub that I wouldn’t stay with our dentist because The Hub is the father of my children and, of course, the love of my life. Unless our dentist is very rich, of course. And I didn’t dare mention having other children by other dentists because that would have sent The Hub into a jealous frenzy and as dinner was almost ready I didn’t want to give him indigestion.
By the cauliflower & sprouts I was convinced I had brushed through the whole incident with my marriage shaky but intact, and The Hub gave me a reassuring censored (my children read this; I don’t want them knowing their parents kiss occasionally) to confirm that that was so. He says I have too much time on my hands because I don’t do enough cooking, but I’m just getting in practice for when he’s castaway for four years. I blame the steam-induced torpor that engulfs me when I’m in the kitchen.
© Tilly Bud and The Laughing Housewife, 2009.
Ok, am a hopeless romantic, but lets be honest those two never went together anyway; there was more chemistry between Tom Hanks and Wilson! Sounds like your husband has a good point though, glad you two worked it out by the time dinner was ready…
I have to agree, though it hadn’t occurred to me.
Thanks for stopping by.
Hey, thanks for dropping by my blog! You do some excellent writing here!
Thanks!