My Flawed Husband

My husband has many, many wonderful traits. He is smart, kind, funny and handy around the house. He cooks, cleans and irons. He is the calm voice of reason to my feisty irrational mamma bear. He writes the diplomatic letters while I sit back, rant and rave. He nods and smiles when I go all OCD, Type A about things. He humors me when I am being neurotic and insecure.

Before you start thinking that he is George Clooney, Pierce Brosnan and Jon Stewart all rolled into one, he does have two major flaws. He has never seen or read "The Godfather. He doesn't get any references to it. I make a joke about putting a horse head in someone's bed and he stares at me blankly. I refer to my brother as "Fredo" and he thinks I have Alzheimer's. I say "Sonny had a better day at the causeway" and he just shakes his head. I'm willing to chalk this glaring lapse in his education to a failing on his parents' part. However, it has become patently obvious that he has led a sheltered and deprived life. He does not appreciate my 'interest' in all things Jane Austen, Pride & Prejudice, etc. Further, he calls it an obsession and rolls his eyes when I read select passages to him. When I discovered I could audit a university class entitled "All Things Austen", I thought he would have a stroke on the kitchen floor he had just scrubbed.

I'm a reasonable woman. I can overlook many, many things. He is a pack rat. He ignores clutter. He leaves cupboard doors open. I can live with these flaws in his character. But, not appreciating Jane Austen? Not knowing every line of dialogue from the Godfather? Not sure these can be overlooked.