The intellectual and the gossip

As we drove to lunch yesterday, Husband started talking about the latest book he’s been reading, The Goldilocks Enigma. Apparently it’s about how the universe is infinitely bigger than previously imagined, that there might be lots of other universes and how electrons work and stuff. I said “uh-huh” a lot – in what I hoped was a learned manner – but didn’t understand most of it (ok, all). I tried to retain a few salient points for you, but my brain squeezed them back out again. When I ponder space, my thoughts usually centre on whether there might be aliens – fingers crossed – and if it would be too scary to be Doctor Who’s assistant in real life. It’s always been this way. (I may have touched on this before, but I’m up to 75 blog posts now and my memory is getting hazy.) Husband’s quite the intellectual, I’m not. From the moment I met him, I didn’t understand lots of things he said. I pretended I did, then I’d divert the conversation by making him laugh, thus avoiding a meaningful response. And so the years have passed together. Along the way, he became a serious business journalist, I became a gossip mag editor. He got a Sydney Theatre Company subscription, I joined the Hoyts movie club. He read the broadsheet newspaper, I read the tabloid one. Now I’m a stay-at-home mum and he’s the breadwinner. So what on earth do we find to talk about when we have lunch? After he got all the science stuff off his chest, we moved on to the Sprogs, my plans for the future, his plans for the present, fun things we could do together on weekends (other than go to art gallery openings in the Hunter Valley), the looming white-collar recession, stuff I want to do to the house … As we chatted, I ate a yummy seafood bisque risotto with prawns and ling (I’ve re-revised the diet to be Monday-Tuesday & Thursday-Friday), while he had a seafood curry and a waffle for dessert (the edible kind). Afterwards, we squeezed in a short stroll on the beach (my fault, I’d snuck off to Target for a spot of Chrissie shopping in the morning). The sun was shining. The water was sparkling. Husband’s charm offensive was in full swing. As we walked, we fantasised about which beachside apartment we’ll buy when the Sprogs leave home. I was so zen and laid-back when I arrived in the playground for school pick-up. Several other kindie mums commented on it. So I’m thinking I might keep Husband a bit longer. Despite him asking whether I’d read Dante’s Inferno over dinner. And the fact he snored on the couch yesterday afternoon instead of cleaning up the kids’ craft table. He means well. I love him for it. And divorces look like they’re way too complicated and messy.

TONIGHT’S MENU: Sausages and mash.