When I say ginger, I mean ginger. Like the root. That you use to flavour food. Not some derogatory term for red haired individuals.
Photo by Crystl via Flickr Creative Commons License
I don’t often blog about my husband. Mostly, because I figure if he wants to share his life with the world wide interwebs, then he would start a blog himself. He tweets. That’s enough for him. (Though arguably one could say since I blog about both myself and our daughter that I do share his life with the world wide interwebs… but… you know.. we won’t go there.)
Anyway, today I am breaking my ‘don’t blog about the husband’ rule to tell you about how wonderful and annoying he is, all at the same time.
So you know how I have been sick. (If not, I have been, and I am eating veggies to combat it, its going well, see here.) My husband drives me kinda nuts, in that ‘aren’t you so sweet and caring way’ when I am sick. You see, he is the ‘fix it’ type. You know those people you go to, in order to whine and commiserate and generally get your complaints out, and then come right back at you with, ‘Well, why don’t you just do this….” You know, those helpful caring people that you love and all, but you just want to smack and say “Just let me complain!” (For the record, though I consider myself a great listener, I can also fall into this fix it trap. So pot. Kettle. Yes.)
Anyway. This trait becomes particularly apparent when I am sick. My husband is CONVINCED that there is an immediate cure for any every day aliment. Usually, this cure involved some type of natural health remedy. He will resort to medicine, but he goes the natural way first. So, when I tell him I am sick, his response inevitable is “What can I get you to help you feel better?”
Now, that sounds all nice and supportive and sweet and all. And it is. Except when I say, “Nothing…..” he just waits a couple hours and asks again.
And then the nagging starts.
“Did you take your vitamins today? Did you drink enough water? Maybe you should exercise. Is there something at work that is making you sick?” (I work at a University, so my snarky response is “yes, they are called students”)
He is bound, bent and determined to find a cure. Even if he has to nag me back to health.
I should stop to tell you that some people would probably find this behaviour endearing… and I do. Except that I have this quirky little personality trait where I don’t like people trying to help me. I mean, help me by handing me $1 000 000, sure, I’ll take that. But reminding me 100 times to take my vitamins. UGH.
I also have a horrible rebellious streak where the more someone else wants me to do something the less I am willing to do it. Even if it is something I also want to do. Yeah. I am a pain to live with.
Oh yeah! The ginger! Sorry, I got carried away there.
This weekend, as a part of the “What can I buy to cure my wife” thing, he bought raw ginger.
Now we don’t cook with raw ginger. I like ginger cookies, ginger beef and ginger ale, but that is about it when it comes to other uses of ginger… I will pass. I won’t touch candied ginger or raw ginger or that pickled ginger they put on sushi with a ten foot pole.
So he buys the raw ginger and he makes me a drink. Because, well, apparently ginger is natures magical cure. Along with the probiotics and vitamin D he is making me take. (Don’t get me wrong, I think these things work, I just hate taking pills. And I don’t want to because the husband wants me to. Rebellion.) He takes the ginger and grates it and juices it and who knows what else and combines it with a bunch of other stuff; lemon, honey, other spices.
I was forced to drink it. Forced. And I am not sure I can ever drink anything with ginger again. If it was just a mild flavour of ginger with lemon and honey.. that would be one thing. But the husband works on the ‘more is better’ principle of home made cures… so it was the strongest ginger I have ever tasted. And it was horrible.
Sweet, in that he went to all that trouble to try and cure me, but really really horrible.
I don’t think I can drink ginger ale ever again. Beware of the ginger people. And the husbands.
(Thank you to my wonderful husband who let me publish this post poking fun at him. Honey, I love you.)