If you read yesterday's post, Men Hear It Differently, it had a bit to do with saxophones and small penises, and communication between the sexes, or more to the point, a conversation between me and my husband and how occasionally our messages get garbled during transmission.
Over coffee/tea this morning Michael said, "Well, I forgot my wife is a writer."
"What do you mean, honey?"
"Well, I read your post from yesterday and..."
He is smiling.
"I guess I was hoping for a bit more irony."
"I heard from a few people," I said, "John wrote that he was very happy to be a guitar player and Kerry wrote that she and Sam had ironically been listening to a John Gray tape, you know Men are From Mars, on their way home from Boston and..."
"You've got to admit that root-toot-tooting your horn sounds way different than practicing. I'm a serious woodwind instrumentalist," he continued, big grin.
"I know, honey. You're a serious, multi-talented woodwind..."
"Root-toot-tooting is like me being upstairs in shorts, you know, Little Boy Blue Come Blow Your Horn..."
"I sensing a theme, sweetie, some deep-seated kind of..."
"Or Buster Brown in little white socks," he says, laughing.
[read "Men Hear It Differently"/ Feb. 20, 2011...photo from glorious Toronto!]
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