Talk Amongst Yourselves

I will give you a topic!!

Rhode Island is neither a "road" nor an "Island."

Discuss!!

This is the story of my life.  Making sense of is all while using pop culture colloquialisms.  I tend to use Sex and the City, Golden Girls, John Landis movies, and Saturday Night Live to fill in the blanks when I need to make an analogy.  Sometimes, I use my own life, as my mother, grandmother, and father can usually provide some fodder for figuring out the ambiguities of life.

Because of the in-your-face nature of popular culture, women's emotions are put on display quite a bit.  Like "crying at a Hallmark commercial" as an example of women being "emotional" because of that "time of the month" or whatever.  Feh. But I've become cognizant of that perception, and maybe I can poke fun at myself because of it.  No, I won't cry during commercials.  But I do cry during movies.

I can mock cry at situations that actually do mean a lot to me.  Once, my mother and I were watching a Behind the Music featuring Cher, and we both started tearing up at Cher's eulogizing of Sonny Bono.  Something so silly, that doesn't affect either of us in real life. 

Yet, I can sometimes compartmentalize my feelings on situations, to make them funny.  This may be a defense mechanism.  But when I was out celebrating our mutual birthdays with Dee, her mother (a woman I affectionately refer to as my "aunt") said that she looked on me like a daughter.

And I got verklempt.  The Yiddish substitute for "emotional" that Linda Richman, character made famous by actor Mike Myers, that I like to say from time-to-time.  Okay.  I say it a LOT.  I like to say it because in happy situations, even if you want to cry tears of joy, it's all silly.  I like to keep life light.  So even if there is a reason to be emotional, it shouldn't be too overwhelming.  By saying something in Yiddish, I can deflect a lot of it, but still get the point across that it means a lot. 

Why do I get "verklempt" to begin with?  Sometimes, I get overwhelmed with the bigger picture.  I know there is a world that's a lot bigger than me, but I can only just take care of me and those closest to me.  I've been around for over 30 years, but people come into my life whom I thought I got along without just fine until I met them.  Post-It Notes were a "happy accident" by 3M.  My "happy accident" was meeting Dee and her mother.

I don't want to trivialize our relationship by calling it a post-it, but it is truly special and unique.  It's something that even at times that I do get really verklempt about things, it's something that can make me smile.  Which gets me even MORE verklempt.   

That gets me back to the reality that maybe women are more emotional creatures, maybe bigger picture things can hit us harder because we might be more conscience of the idea that we're just little specks on Earth, really. 

But in our universe, these specks can be huge to those of us who are the world to us. 

From Day One, we know our families.  We consider ourselves lucky if we are born into a cool one.  They help craft a lot of our humor and our overall personality.  Every day after, we use that and go around in life making our own family, taking existential pieces and making an authentic existence.  The family you choose is something that you have control over, and it's essential to find people who get the real you.

As Carrie Bradshaw said in the last episode of Sex and the City, "If you can find someone who loves the you YOU love, then, that's just fabulous."  I'm lucky enough to have found those people in my life.

Now, isn't this just like buttah??  Discuss!

COOPed Up In DEEcember? Not Us!

It's no secret that I've never been thrilled with having a birthday in December.  So close to Christmas and at the start of winter, it's kinda hard to fully enjoy.

When I was a child, it was Christmas wrapping paper on my birthday gifts or one card for both my birthday and Christmas(although not from my immediate family, the ones who really mattered).  But now it's on a different level. I can't hang up my Christmas cards until after my birthday because I don't want to take anything away from my birthday (and I don't have the room).  I have to wait a whole year before getting presents (although my mother would swear otherwise, and she's kinda right).  And people are too broke from all the holiday spending to come out and celebrate with me.  (Not to mention they have other obligations this time of the year and simply can't make it.)

Being a huge Mets fan, I could never spend a day at the ballpark, watching a game and cheering on my favorite team (and hoping for a win!).  But this year, I decided to try something different.  Not only did I attend my very first Jets game (I'm a huge Jets fan too), but my first professional football game ever!


Coop and I decided to spend one of our birthday weekends at Met Life Stadium, rooting for the J! E! T! S! JETS JETS JETS!  And since they beat the Chiefs 37-10 yesterday, I'd say we accomplished our goal of seeing a victory by one of our teams (although Coop is a NY Rangers fan too, so I'm sure they've won games on or near her special day) on our birthdays.  Well, sort of.

The game was two days before my birthday, and 11 days before Coop's. Since the only other home game in December was on Christmas Eve, this was really our only option. (Besides, we'd rather do it before both our birthdays than after them.)  And up until this day, we had weekends with temperatures near or just above 60 degrees.  So goes my luck.  But as so many reminded me as the weekend approached, it's not football if it's not cold.

As I said, this was my very first football game ever.  I had no idea what to expect.  I was a little anxious -- yes, anxious -- over the whole tailgating experience.  But it turned out to be a lot of fun!  Hosted by our friends, the Chapmans, there was more food than could be eaten, and more alcohol than could be, well, eliminated.  (That's another story.)  It didn't stop there.  More tailgating after the game with our friend Alan, another December baby, who is known in the social networking world as "Woo" because of his catch phrase of the same name.

Let's rewind for a moment. Did I mention that we may be on tv?  Food Network was there filming a pilot for "best tailgate burger" something-or-other and they just so happened to be in L11, our section.  There were three "finalists" and after the taste tests, the winner was awarded the "Golden Spatula".

But again, we didn't stop there.

After a semi-annoying NJ Transit experience back to Manhattan, I had about 20 minutes to spare before my train back to Long Island.  I had been dying for hot cocoa all day. (Some people crave alcohol, I crave chocolate!)  Coop suggested heading outside to the Dunkin' Donuts about a block or two away.  I had time, but figured if I did miss that train, I'd just take the next.  And then it hit me!  How many chances do I get to be in the city at Christmastime?  And so, off to Macy's window and Rockefeller Center we went!

There really is no better place in the world at Christmastime than New York City.  Everywhere you look on Sixth Avenue, lights and fake Santas bring the Christmas joy to you.  I was like a foreigner (oops! Not supposed to use that word!) with my camera, like I had never been to New York City before. At one point, I even asked Coop and here hubby (who joined us at the tree) who was worse, me or our friend from Cali who had visited here last summer for her first time ever in New York. Without any hesitation, Ed said "You!"

But I didn't care.  I knew it was all in good fun. Besides, no one had to know that I lived a half hour from the city. No one had to know that before I became friends with Coop, I hardly went to Manhattan, except for when I worked there for a very short time several years ago, and was afraid to leave the vicinity of my building, even to grab lunch.  No one had to know that while I grew up a lot over the past few years, inside, I was still a little girl in total awe of what I was seeing.

For me, it's the simple things.  A Mets or Jets game every now and then.  The Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center. And a margarita and good conversation with Coop every now and again.  We both love to talk, which is why our blog posts are so long, you probably lose interest by this point.  In fact, blogging and sports, and blogging about sports, is how we met.  (Oh yeah, and Facebook may have had something to do with it too.)  But who'da thunk true friendship -- to the point of sisterhood -- could come out of all that?

Not only are we both December babies and love sports and blogging, but we're both only children.  We can relate to so many things that others with siblings can't.  We know the difference between being spoiled and our parents just loving us and being able to shower us a little more easily than parents with many children.  And we appreciate our alone time because we are so used to it.

So in addition to this blog, sis (that's what I call her) and I have started our own birthday celebration tradition -- the annual Coop Dee Ville Birthday Spectacular -- adding something new to the festivities each year.  This year it was the Jets game.  Next year, maybe a Jets game and a trip to Atlantic City.  Who knows.  Who cares!  I'm just so lucky to have the friend in her that I do, and the sister I never had.

Ass-Backwards

When I was a kid, I mean we're talking little, like first grade little, I chased boys around the playground.  Yeah, I said it.  I'm married now, but to deny my boy-crazy and pants-chasing self that I was a child would be to deny a huge part of my childhood personality.

If I behaved like that today, as a child who is being a "kid," I might be suspended from school.  No, that's no joke.  I read today that some nine year old child was suspended for saying his teacher was "cute."  Cute! 

Media may be over-sexualized these days, but when you're nine years old and talking about someone being "cute," it's not for being a babe-hound (although, who knows, he may be one in the making), it's because you're being HONEST.   I remember telling a female lead singer of a band that I thought she was pretty when I was five years old.  I chased boys around the playground when I was six (and probably was chased around too by the same boys).  I remember holding hands with an eight year old boy when I was seven, at a New Year's party.  It wasn't something "sexual," when I was that age I didn't even know what "sex" was.  Well, maybe I did, but when you're a kid there's no urge, no "threat."

And while we're waxing intellectual, think about what "harassment" means.  Harassment is using sex as power.  A nine year old child has "power?"  Exactly what "power" does a nine year old have over a teacher?  I could see talking to the parents or principal if there's prank calling or threatening notes...because that stuff needs to be nipped in the bud.

But hey, Mrs. Smith, I think you're cute?  Total threat.

I can see in an era of political correctness of being cognizant of other cultures, religions, races, creeds.  But where is the cut-off?  It seems like in this case, and I'm sure there are others like it around, that it's an overreaction to probably a kid who may be a bit of a "troublemaker" in class (I'm making a HUGE assumption, especially since it appears he was suspended at one point), and the teacher was wielding her power.  Suspended?  Get a grip.  Maybe they should be concentrating on making teachers AND children more tolerant of each other.  And ignore certain behaviors while encouraging others to grow, like tolerance.