In this context, “DNA” means Does Not Apply, and what doesn’t apply in this case is the song You Don’t Bring Me Flowers by Neil Diamond and Barbara Streisand. Yes, I know that it is a sappy and musically homogenous, but when my iTunes shuffled to it the other day, I had to smile, because the tragic faded love about which they sang was not like my own marriage, and specifically that I do, in fact, bring Abby flowers all the time, and that there was a lovely rose next to her even as that song played.
I thought of it again today after Abby and I slept late. When she got up, I made coffee for her and heated up two of her famous cinnamon rolls. (Sidebar: in spite of wanting to freeze some because she made so many, they have proven so popular that we are almost out of them.) As I presented her breakfast to her, I noticed that the rose was wilting. I had noted while mowing yesterday that Dorothy’s iris and roses were flowering like I hadn’t seen in years. So Today I ran down and got Abby two beautiful specimens and put them in my mother’s purple vase for her. Good husband: 1, You Don’t Bring Me Flowers: 0.