Several days ago, I brought my wife Dawn a nice vase of flowers.
It was, therefore, a surprise when she said, “X, you don’t bring me flowers anymore,” a couple of days ago. (Much like the old Barbara Streisand standard…)
Later that day, as I was reading, it struck me that she was, in fact, using one of her favorite communication tricks: the homophone. I won’t bore you with a redundant reminder of what constitutes a homophone because I’m sure that you all, much like myself, spent a good portion of the weekend reading your “Obscure English Quarterly” magazine.
So, today, I granted her wish. Now, she can no longer say, “X, you don’t bring me flours anymore.”
Quizzical initial looks of consternation aside, I think she enjoyed the surprise.
When I bought this gift today at Richard’s Flourist Shop, he told me to not add water to these flours. Even if I was going to make bread.
P.S. Parenthetically Speaking 