A Tempest Over A Teapot

I have recently learned that there is one serious downside to Mr. Heather having a digital camera: I now have a companion on my picture-taking sorties. This probably sounds touching to some of you— and I suppose if you are not married to Mr. Heather it is. If you are, however, married to Mr. Heather (as I am) you would realize it is but only another facilitator for our (numerous) verbal skirmishes.

Do I hate Mr. Heather? No. Am I going to set the bed on fire one night while he sleeps. Absolutely not. Some couples gaze at each other with starry-eyed expressions. Their more medicated brethren engage in coke-induced foreplay on Bedford Avenue or Berry Street. Still others send cutesy text messages to each other in “LOL” speak. Mr. Heather and I argue: it is the foundation of our relationship.

Verbal altercations are foreplay to us; after cutting our teeth on each other we usually join forces and ridicule the above-listed public displayers of affection. Screw romance. In 10-20 years you’ll just grow to loathe each other anyway, so why not skip the preliminaries? Mr. Heather and I have. We have crammed at least 30 years of acrimony and repressed anger into two years of marriage. This is no small accomplishment. But I digress.

Today Mr. Heather accompanied me on my walk, and true to form, he soon got on my nerves. First it was what to have for lunch: we argued. Then it was which wines to buy: I told him I didn’t care. Lastly (and most crassly) we bickered over a teapot.

This teapot, which now graces our rather filthy stove top.

When my parents asked me what Mr. Heather wanted for Christmas, I told them to get him a gift certificate at The Brooklyn Kitchen. I suggested this because:

1. Mr. Heather thinks with his stomach— and given the capacity this organ has, I’d hazard to guess he thinks a lot. Mostly about food.
2. When my parents bought him a gift certificate there for his birthday, Mr. Heather left longing for a teapot.
3. The peeps who operate The Brooklyn Kitchen are really funny, down-to-earth and helpful people. The previous qualities are good ones to have when dealing with Mr. and Miss Heather. Today was no exception.

When we arrived I was more than a little unnerved. I asked a woman working there if she would be willing to trade Woody (the resident canine) for my my husband. She seemed a little confused by this at first, so I reiterated my offer:

Are you willing to trade him (pointing at Woody) for him (pointing at Mr. Heather)?

Wisely, she declined.

After quibbling over knives, knife holders and a salad mixer (the latter of which, we’d probably never use), Mr. Heather set his sights on the object of his desire: a Le Creuset teapot. He asked me no less than three times if he should get it.

Me: Get it, you clearly want to.
Mr. Heather: (hemming and hawing)
Me (to Taylor, an employee of The Brooklyn Kitchen): Please tell him he wants that teapot.
Taylor: You want that teapot.
Me: Thank you. Get the pink one, it will match our kitchen.

He did. As we were checking out, I quipped:

Nothing says “I have been emasculated” like buying a pink teapot.

To wit, Taylor replied:

No, nothing says “I have been emasculated” like asking your wife if you can buy a pink teapot.

How very true.

I’d like to give a big shout-out of thanks to the folks at The Brooklyn Kitchen for their patience with/tolerance of our Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf shenanigans. I am pleased to report that Mr. Heather has used his new teapot with success. What’s more, that atomizer for salad vinegar we bought works smashingly for spritzing Pernod (to make Sazeracs).

Miss Heather

P.S.: The Brooklyn Kitchen is still accepting canned goods on behalf of the Greenpoint Reformed Church’s food pantry. You can drop off canned goods at:

The Brooklyn Kitchen
616 Lorimer Street
Brooklyn, New York 11211
(718) 389-2982