Beet Powder

My hubby and I don't have all that much in common.

That doesn't mean we don't get along in our own strange way. We do, because we have one major shared goal: to make our world comfortable. Our world. Not the whole world. Just ours.

It was discussed at great length when we first met. No movie romance, no grand passion and no fantasies. This is a reality marriage. We could both benefit each other in so many ways, so we decided to make it official. We love and care for each other without the blinders that young love puts on. We knew the struggles and the demons up front.

But, the conversation is what I miss. It borders on ridiculous.

My hubby doesn't have much time to talk, really. He's one of those people, as am I, that always seems to be busy. Or preparing to be busy. Or just finished being busy and too tired to do anything but remain blissfully blank.

But tonight, my hubby started a rather lengthy (meaning, more than one or two grunts)  discussion on, of all things, beet powder.

So, let me preface by commenting that my hubby is practically the exact opposite of me in almost every belief. He won't stop for injured animals (unless I have an all-out crazy attack and practically threaten him with death during sleep), he thinks coffee in the morning is NOT a necessity of life and he thinks that Trump will set America straight. I can't even.

He is an orangutan who walks upright most of the time. An adorable orangutan, but a great ape nonetheless. There are many things we agree on: he loves dogs, he loves working and he loves Florida. He adores my cooking and fully supports my recycle/reuse thought process and understands my love of organic foods, although he snuck in some Twinkies and Jeno's Pizza Rolls while I was on vacation. Gasp.

So, imagine my surprise when he started talking about the benefits of adding beet powder to food.

What?

Beet powder is evidently the new super-food. It's replaced eggs, avocados and kale. Thank God it's replaced kale. But really, beets taste like dirt. "No," he explains with great fervor, "you put the beet powder in anything, and it doesn't taste bad. It's supposed to be really good for you. It lowers blood pressure, adds vitamins D and C and some E and..."

What?

On and on he rattled about beet powder. I was just sitting there, with a fork halfway up to my mouth filled with brown rice and mushrooms (he eats anything with mushrooms in it. Fungus. Mushrooms are fungus. Now he's talking about beets). I thought after a couple of sentences he would stop. No, he kept on going. He had read an article in a magazine about beets and their relative health benefits. The man who eats Twinkies secretly after I go to bed is talking about the health benefits of beets.

Realizing that he was trying to have a conversation about something I am keenly interested in, i.e. using your diet to improve your health, I jumped in and agreed. We talked about beet powder for 20 minutes. Probably the longest conversation we've had in, like,  ever. I could see that his heart was smiling. He had made the effort to learn something about something I was interested in.

Of course, it went quickly into some strong opinions on his part about the political arena, how motorcyclists take over Daytona during Bike Week and how my dog Violette sorely needs a haircut because she is experiencing hair-cut-envy because the other dogs have gone to the groomer but she has not. But, I have to say, he was a chatterbox last night. And I listened and commented with great intent, because conversation is precious to me.

I wonder what he'll come up with tonight, cause beet powder is not happening.