My husband is a great sport, and here's why

Last weekend, I saw that there was a pottery tour in our area and I convinced my husband that he would actually enjoy this if he would go with me. (probably not, but come on!  How many times have I done stuff with him that I didn't exactly enjoy?) I think the conversation went something like this:


Me:  "Honey...there's this pottery thing where you can go and check out some really COOL things and see some really BIG stuff and there might be FIRE...you know...like, in the kilns....and sometimes there's FOOD.  (emphasizing all of he most important man elements of course)  And we can go and stay for just a little while or whatever and just leave if we want.  We don't have to stay....it would take like an hour and then we can go eat or whatever....so....can we go?"


Him:  "Ummm....what?"


Me:  "This pottery thing...do you want to go?"


Him:  "Are there going to be artsy people there....like artsy-orgy-cult-type people?"


Me:  "Probably....but....."


Him:  "Sure.  That's fine.  (shaking his head and chuckling)...  Weirdos."


So we go.  I'm excited to do something "artsy" and satisfied with my persuasion of my husband.  We hop in the car and go to the first location, which happens to be right in our neighborhood.  We look around, stand back, comment on things with our fist under our chin, trying to look like we are thinking deeply about the "meaning" and "vision" and all that crap.  Well....not quite.


Really, my husband makes a B-line for the free cookies, and I am caught off guard by a very creaky floor that sounds like I weigh 500 pounds with every step I take.  I do what every 20-something with the sense of humor of a 12-year-old would do:  I do the Samba back and forth on the floor a few times, laughing at the weird sounds my fancy-feet produce, and look up, only to see my husband....and a few art-hippies starring at me. 


(crickets) 


Okay then....moving right along.  We come across a collection of vases/scuplted containers that my husband stops to look at.  He says he really likes them and pauses to look at each one.  I think to myself, "Wow, he is actually enjoying this.  He is ACTUALLY looking at the stuff."  Now, blinded by the surprise of my husband actually LOOKING at the pottery, I neglect to actually pay attention to what the pieces looked like...until he starts really talking about one of the pieces.


Him:  "I really like this one."


Me:  "Oh yeah?"  (turning around to see what he's looking at)


Now, I turn around....in super slow motion....with dramatic music playing in the background, and my hair floating in the air like a shampoo commercial, only to REALLY see what he is looking at. 


You may want to sit down for this folks....but he is looking at a large vase that looks like a VAGINA.


There is an episode of "Everybody Loves Raymond" where Ray's mom takes an art class and makes this big sculpture.  She invites everyone to the art reception and someone realizes what her "sculpture" actually LOOKS like.  Once it's in Ray's head.....he can't get it out.  In his head, its nothing but "Mom...vagina.  Mom....vagina," and thats enough to put anyone into therapy for at least a year.


So there I stand.....with my husband over my shoulder munching on a cookie, commenting on how much he likes the VAGINA on the pedestal in front of us.  He notes its color, its size, its functionality (the artist had put dried flowers in the VAGINA to show how great THAT would look)....and he considers buying it.  BUYING IT!  Now, my husband doesn't buy art....but we are going to be building a house soon, so he is in a constant state of, "This would look cool in our house."


My mind shifts from 12 year old comedian mode ("It's a vagina!  hahaha!  And he doesn't even realize it!  hahahaha!") to excuse mode ("How the hell am I going to talk him out of getting that thing?!  Think woman!  THINK!"). 


Me:  "Ummm, honey?  I think we should wait and see what is at the OTHER places.  Maybe we will like something better there.....maybe....and if we don't find something else....we can come back here and get it."  (knowing full well that no man returns to the same place to buy something on their own accord)


Him:  "Okay, sure." 


THANK GOD!  I am victorious in the Vagina Battle of 2010!  Take THAT art hippies!


Later on, my husband finds a dog hair in his half-munched cookie and goes outside to spit it out.  He mumbles something about, "damn artists and their soy tofu" which makes no sense and we move on to the next stop on the tour.


Going on this tour requires a map.  Maps are like the kryptonite of marriages.  Two married people can get into a car and realize they have to use a map, and by the time they reach their destination, or give up completely, they emerge mangled and weak, begging for mercy.  Map kryptonite must have something in it that also erase people's memory, because without fail, we will get in the car weeks or months later, pick up a map, and do the whole damn thing all over again with absolutely no recollection of past map mishaps.  So here we are, dumb smiles on our faces, map in hand, ready to begin our pottery exodus.  We make it to the next location with little difficulty.  I become overly confident...dare I say cocky...."Yeah, take THAT map!"  (remember, I'm coming off of a huge victory in the Vagina Battle, so I'm feelin' good). 


We mill around, looking at nothing too special, and head back to the car, resuming our positions in the Kryp-mobile (the green kind, not the gangstas and saggy pants kind).  Sure enough....we hit a snag.  We emerge from the artists colony in the middle of nowhere and feel as though someone blindfolded us, spun us around 10 times, took off the blindfolds and said, "Go."  For some reason, with map in hand, we can't remember....or decipher whether or not we need to go left or right.  We go right.....which ends up not being "right" and end up in what looks like a scene out of "Misery."  We make a quick U-turn in what I'm sure is Kathy Bates' driveway and get back on what my husband keeps calling "the main road."  i.e. "We need to get back on the main road.  Where's the main road?"  Super specific and helpful....awesome. 


After about an hour, (bare in mind, we are at least an hour into this pottery fiasco) we find our way back to "the main road" according to my husband and head home.  I see the turn for the site of the Vagina Battle and pray that my husband doesn't say anything about going back and getting the "sculpture."  He doesn't.  Instead he asks me if I liked the tour and says he had fun.  We chat about plans for our future home and dream about what it will be like. 


Through a morning of art hippies and vaginas; dog hair and maps, my husband proves once again what a great sport he is, living what he always says to tease me when we are lost (of course due to a faulty map), "As long as we're together."  What a great guy.  :)