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My husband and I have a beautiful yin and yang that makes our marriage work.

For example, he prefers to take the necessary precautions to keep our children safe and then has faith they will be fine. I, on the other hand, prefer to drop my girls at a sleepover and then become obsessed that the other family will forget to lock their doors and some kind of intruder will snatch my kids in the middle of the night.

He also prefers to leave stuff in piles and I, because I’m curious by nature, prefer to ask him, “Why the hell is there 40 pounds of change on the dresser?! It’s money. Put it in your pocket and spend it.” It’s like he’s waiting for all those pennies, nickels and dimes to turn into scrumptious halavah. (If you don’t know what halavah is, see “food Jewish husbands like to eat.”)

He prefers to ponder the mental anguish of Philadelphia Phillies pitcher Cliff Lee who can’t seem to win a baseball game this season. I prefer not to be concerned with the well being of anyone who makes 21 million dollars a year. Unless it’s Jennifer Aniston. Because that millionaire deserves to have love, a family and happiness.

But there may be no greater yin and yang in our marriage than when it comes to bananas.

My husband enjoys eating them. I find their presence on this earth terribly problematic.

Yes, they are cheap. But if cheap was the only thing that counted when it came to food, wouldn’t we all be eating a large McDonald’s fries at this very moment?

This is the thing about bananas. There is only about 16 minutes between the time they are green and then too ripe. That is a lot of eating pressure.

Plus, I don’t trust any food that has the power to corrupt my other food. Like if you store a banana with a bag of pretzels, suddenly the pretzels taste like banana. Bananas are like some kind of evil super hero produce.

And inevitably, bananas are always taken on car rides (mostly because they come in their own cute carrying cases), and the peel is left in the car. To bake in the sun. Which means the stink of the bananas will permeate through every crevice of your car leaving you with a scent that can potentially last the lifetime of the vehicle.

The only time in my life that I have actually had a need for a banana is when I have had hankerings for a Banana Banshee Daiquiri on the streets of New Orleans’ French Quarter.

And there are probably no bananas in those dreamy drinks anyway.

But for the happiness of my marriage, I let my husband eat his bananas.

As long as it’s not in the car.

Or in my presence.

But he’s welcome to find a nice spot in one of the dank corners of our unfinished basement and eat them endlessly.

I’ll be on the couch upstairs eating candy.

Yin and yang.

18 Responses to the yin and yang of marriage

  • Oh, we learned early on NEVER to allow banana-eating in the car. And you are right – the window of edibility for any one particular person is quite small. I’m lucky in that, when I consider the bananas overripe, my kids think they are barely ready.

    I’ve solved the “change on the bureau” dilemma quite simply – I confiscate it and turn it into Starbucks money.

  • Bananas also overpower smoothies…add a banana and ALL YOU TASTE is banana.

    They also are bad food to pack in kids’ lunches because – no matter how green they are in the morning – by lunchtime they’re bruised and brown.

    Besides, candy is healthier. Or something like that πŸ™‚

  • Mexmom says:

    I agree that they put a lot of eating pressure on you, since I only like them when they are not green but not too ripe, that window of eating opportunity is really hard to find.

    I am just glad my son doesn’t like them so it is very unlikely that you will find a banana peel in my car.

  • Kerri says:

    Too funny! Some in our family like bananas & other are mildly allergic so they don’t eat them. I don’t mind them & when they get over the edge then I bake with them or chuck them into a smoothie!

    My husband & I have a ying & yang too!

  • DawnGes says:

    Ah–ying and yang–a much funnier way to describe how opposite we are and how we see life from a completely DIFFERENT point of view! πŸ™‚

  • Brandice says:

    Sixteen minutes? Seems like about five at my house. Veerrrrryyy small window where they are good. Very long window before you figure out that one has rotted under the passenger seat.

  • HonestMum says:

    You sound exactly like me(apart from the banana bit-I adore them-especially in banana bread-that counts right?)…Anyway I too would worry endlessly if my child slept over at another’s-luckily at 2 we’re not there yet with that problem. He doesn’t sleep well at all though so if anyone’s offering I might be able to see past the potential intruder worries…

  • Michele Weiner says:

    Once they are ripe put the bananas in the fridge. The peel will darken but the inside will be perfect. Mom-mom taught us that.

  • K8NYC says:

    Two words: banana bread. Perfect final resting place for overripe bananas. Sometimes I feel like I only buy bananas so they can begin their inevitable march towards bread-dom.
    (Oh, one other thing the grammar nerd in me can’t resist: it’s YIN and Yang. No “G” on the first– it’s just YIN.)

  • Stephanie says:

    What about “banana sound”… probably the worst and grossest sound on the planet. I knew that my love for my child was unconditional when I first tollerated her eating a banana in front of me. Ugh, the thought of it makes me feel like I need to go and take a shower… Btw- love your blog!

  • I’m probably not the most reliable of critics since I don’t like ANY fruit. But I particularly loathe bananas and strawberries for the exact reason you mention. Put one slice of banana or one tiny strawberry next to (not even touching!) other food, and suddenly everything smells like fruit.

    I’ll stick to vegetables.

  • Mary says:

    You hit the nail on the head about bananas in almost every way. There’s a coffee shop in San Francisco that sells the most amazing banana bread I have ever eaten. That’s pretty much the only time I want to eat a banana. My husband will eat them unripe, ripe, overripe. Yuck.

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kelcey kintner