Our Love Is So Deep You Can Count It To Potato

Otherwise titled:

How I came to appreciate The Ringer.

You have to know Mr. Curly. To the world, he appears to be a serious man with a dry sense of humor. He is not a man who enjoys stupid movies.... unless it is late at night, he can't sleep, and there is nothing else on. This is why he now has an appreciation for The Ringer and You, Me And Dupree. I, in general, adore stupid movies. I enjoy You, Me and Dupree, (7 different kinds of smoke!!) it's hilarious, but I just can't like The Ringer, no matter how hard I try.

But Mr. Curly's enjoyment of The Ringer and his sense of humor is what brings us to this post.


Set Up: 35 feet in the air, on a Bil-Jak lift, Mr. Curly and I are painting the eaves of our 1912 farm house. This day, we are listening to a rather random mix of music from their dating days on my phone (not an iphone or anything fancy, we're a little behind in technology here, as I just got this phone earlier in the month). Garth Brooks' song "Wrapped Up In You" begins playing, and the following conversation about the validity of this man's love ensues.


First Lyric in Question:
Well, how do I love you
Let me count the ways
There ain't no number high enough
To end this phrase

Mr. Curly surmises that Mr. Brooks couldn't put a number in here, becuase he didn't write the lyrics to fit a number. After my initial cynical remark "he never learned to count that high," I take the more romantic view that there just really "ain't no number high enough to end" that phrase.

Second Lyric in Question:
How do I love you
well don't you know
I love you bout as deep
As any love can grow

I remark "Mr. Brooks must think love is a root vegetable, since his love grows deep and not high or wide."
Mr. Curly looks at me and says "Love is a rutabaga?"
I nod. "His uncountable love is a rutabaga. Gee, that's romantic."
(It should be noted that there is a bit of giggling and lot of sarcasm happening by this time)
Without missing a beat, Mr. Curly says "Oh, baby, I love you so much I can count to potato."

And suddenly, 35 feet in the air, laughing ourselves silly on our own stupid joke, my appreciation for The Ringer grew. It may be a stupid movie, but it makes my husband laugh, and that is one of my favorite sounds in the world.