Ronna Benjamin
My friend and I talked for a long, long, time the other day; or at least she talked for a long time. I listened, folded the clothes, cleared out my inbox, ran outside to bring the recycling bin to the sidewalk for pickup, ran back in, took a shower, and planned a dinner party menu for 8.
Ok, maybe I didn’t do all of that…but I felt as if I could have. In any case, I would not get any awards for being a good listener.
“She has no blabber control,” I heard myself saying to my husband as I recalled the conversation that evening. And as Mike gave a quick chuckle, I went into fits of hysteria (I crack myself up.)
“Blabber control. Get it?” I asked through my tears of laughter.
“Yup, I get it,” he responded.
“Well, that was awesome,” I said. “Let’s come up with some others.”
If you have never smoked pot, this is exactly the kind of conversation one might have (allegedly) for hours and hours when stoned. We had not indulged. Maybe we should have.
“Do we have to play this game?” Mike asked me. Mike is a bit reluctant when I engage him in word games that will most likely end up in a blog, especially after he has worked a full day and has just poured his scotch.
“I have one,” I said, attempting to lure him in without doing any real thinking. I repeated a phrase I had heard from a friend a long time ago, “how about, ‘how’s the 411 on your 911?’ Just about all of us have a parent we are worried about.”
“Really?” he responded. “That’s lame.”
I agreed, it was lame, but mission accomplished—he started to get into this game. He is nothing if not a bit competitive.
“Well, there’s no word for a person like you who can’t figure out how to use the TV remote, even after multiple lessons,” he told me. (Clearly, he doesn’t understand that I could easily learn ONE remote…it’s the THREE remotes I have a problem with.) But I had one for that.
“Remotarded,” I responded, hardly missing a beat, “I’m Remotarted! But that is not exactly PC.”
“Indeed.”
“Don’t tell anyone I came up with that one,” I warned him.
“What about people, like our kids, who never, ever, make coffee at home?” he asked me.
“Starbuddicted.”
We both liked that one.
When I came up with one for the perfect morning BM—a “Great Dude” (as in, “I met a Great Dude this morning…Feeling like I could conquer the world!”) Mike changed the subject. He was done with my game. I could see he was nervous about exactly where this game was going and he did not want all this to end up in a blog (sorry, Mike.)
Later that night, as I lay in bed not sleeping, I could not stop thinking about concepts relating to people at midlife that were in need of proper terminology. Personally, I think these concepts deserve special terms…don’t you?
- The period of time where you are totally miserable because you injured yourself and can’t exercise.
- A name for those of us who are confused between pinterest, insta-gram, snap chat and twitter.
- A person who can’t stop talking about the accomplishments of his/her grandchildren
- A person who, at midlife, feels it is necessary to mention in every conversation which Ivy League school they attended.
- The person in the house who does not pay the bills.
- The way your body feels after resuming exercise after your 60 day hiatus from the gym
- A bad hot flash at a restaurant.
- Being constipated for an entire week during vacation.
- The mess left by your kids when they come home from college.
- A great night’s sleep induced by sleeping pills
- A bad hot flash at a restaurant
- A grown woman who still has unresolved issues with her mother.
- Being exiled to another bedroom because you snore so loudly.
- The feeling of exuberance you get when vacation is over and your kids go back to college.
Feel free to leave your suggestions for these (or other concepts) in the comments area!