We walk unseen among you. We possess both “Y” chromosomes and knitting needles. We’re equally at home in a yarn shop and a gentleman’s club. When admiring exceptional décolletage, we may find ourselves distracted by the softness of a mohair sweater as it clings to the complex curves of your bust. If we ask to touch that delicate fabric, rest assured we do want to experience the fabric. But that probably isn’t all we want to touch. We are men. We love women. And we knit.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
Champagne Wishes and Pineapple Dreams
As people who know me well will attest, I’m a sucker for the odd, the unusual and – occasionally – the just plain tacky.
Don’t think for a moment that this flaw has gone unnoticed by my family. Only a few weeks ago, when I was expounding upon the beauty of a passing Citroen 2CV, the long-suffering expressed concern that if I thought the car in question was beautiful, when to her eyes it was clearly an eyesore, then she had concern about my professed admiration of her own features.
More recently, I came home with the new mechanical love of my life – a 1975 Volkswagen Westfalia camper. As I excitedly showed her my find, she shook her head sadly while muttering something about a “tin can."
I know that because of my marital compact I will never have an opportunity to own a Bull or Bedlington Terrier – although I do hold out hopes of one day playing my banjo with a Bloodhound at my feet and two fingers of Pappy Van Winkle bourbon (my personal favorite) in a glass.
And although I do not believe I have endangered my marriage with the Volkswagen, I’m confident that my marriage would not survive the glorious roundness that is the AMC Pacer.
Still, I keep a running mental list of the odd places I’d like to visit. I’ve been to Wall Drug. I’ve eaten lunch in a restaurant shaped like a giant artichoke. I’ve traveled down a slide made out of the world’s largest radio flyer wagon.
I once drove 50 miles out of my way just to get a photo of my dog playing dead on the side of the road with Devil’s Tower looming ominously in the background.
And yes, I have been to Gatorland although I do not have the t-shirt.
For reasons I can’t quite explain, although I’d love to visit the Louvre I’d be probably happier visiting Stonehenge, or Carhenge for that matter.
But now, I find that I’m strangely drawn to another location: an enormous pineapple on Queensland’s Sunshine Coast.