Marriage and Taking Direction

No matter how much your husband loves you and says things like, "I'm so lucky you married me. You're amazing and beautiful, and so smart and such a great mother," he still won't believe you when you tell him things like, "You shouldn't wash blueberries and then put the back in the fridge wet. They'll go bad."

We had this fight arugument last night. When I told him not to wash the entire pint of berries — instead just the ones he was about to feed our toddler who ate only constipating foods all day, he sneered: "That sounds like an Old Wives Tale," by which I believe he meant "something women made up solely to create more work for men." 

"I'm an old wife," I said. "Does that make everything I say bullshit?"

"I just want to know where you heard this," he said, all fake wide-eyed. "Is there any proof?"

Now this is a man who once made Annie's Mac & Cheese with banana yogurt because he was out of milk. And he's asking me to provide scientific evidence on the proper handling and storage of berries? He's the guy who can't, no matter how many times I explain it, remember the difference between salted and unsalted butter and which one should go in the butter dish (hint: one is salted) , and he's requires a citation beyond my "everybody knows that you shouldn't wash berries until you plan on eating them."

I make dinner for our family almost every night, and my husband is always wholeheartedly appreciative of this fact. His amazement at what I can do with a few vegetables, a legume and a grain is seemingly sincere. In fact, I don't think I have ever made a meal he didn't enjoy. But still he doubts me when I say, "Don't wash all those damn berries; they're going to go bad, dummy."

Why? Because husbands, even actors, can't take direction. See this face:

 That's the face of a man taking direction from his wife. We have the same fight argument every time I need him to take a photo of me in something I made for this blog. We are not blessed with good lighting in our New York apartment, and so indoor photo shoots require using what's available and then fussing with the camera settings until you get something half-way useable. My husband knows next to nothing about taking photos, but acts like I'm the intern and he's Annie Liebowitz when I suggest he, maybe, uh, actually looks at the photos he's taking to make sure the lighting is OK. Let's see that face again:

In these two shots, I'm making him pose where I will be standing so I can check light levels and adjust the settings, and show him the angle I am hoping to achieve. (The angle that makes me look skinniest, duh). I didn't, however, tell him to stand with his hands on his hips like that. That's just the way he stands.