Posted in Just Funny

It’s got character

In my younger years I was a television junkie. I turned the TV on during the Today Show and turned it off during Letterman.  I didn’t sit and watch it all day, mind you, but it was ON. Omnipresent in the background, you might say.

TrivialAnd I paid attention. I could rock the pink category in Trivial Pursuit like nobody’s business. (For you children, Trivial Pursuit is the “hard copy” forerunner of last year’s wildly inferior Trivia Crack. You had to actually use your arms to roll dice and move game pieces. It was a gruelling process.)  

Television is not high on my priority list these days.  I mean, I don’t have a clue why The Walking Dead killed off Glenn or why Kurt Weller’s name is tattooed on Jane Doe’s back.  

Often I go days without ever flipping on the 42” screen that dominates my cozy little den. When I do, it’s to catch two-thirds of a day-old Jimmy Fallon on Hulu, or fawn over a composite of Jeremy Renner clips on YouTube.  That, however, is a confessional blog for another day.

Three or four times a year I binge-watch shows that comes highly recommended, like two of my favorites, House of Cards or Newsroom.  

So I know I’m five years behind the curve, but lately I’ve been on a Downton Abbey spree. Fabulous wardrobes; historical references; wonderfully, Britishly understated melodrama.

My husband, however, refuses to watch along, mentally placing Downton Abbey in the same category as monogrammed handbags, ostentatious gift-wrapping, and herbal tea lattes.

Yes, the show’s language, clothing, and notions of class-distinction are antiquated. Okay, so Lady Mary isn’t a cowgirl.  And Lord Grantham doesn’t grunt, but rather makes eye contact and speaks in grammatically proper sentences.  And Carson, the butler, wouldn’t be caught dead discussing a fart. Ever. 

Compared to Django or The Hangover, Downton could almost appear, well, educational.

Still, I contend that Downton’s cast mimics the characters of every other tv show, albeit better dressed.  Like Mad Men or Grey’s Anatomy or whatever drama you prefer, ee45b75b6013715ce76b729e8c2e86144f4e2e992fd6d7139932ce1b2927ec41there’s the schemer, the snob, the liar, the gossip, the rebel, the clueless, the pot-stirrer, the goody-two-shoes, the scandalous, and the pitiful, all interacting for the purpose of amusement.

Come to think of it, Downton mimics the characters I know in real life as well, all of whom interact for the purpose of amusement, they just don’t realize it. Without them, my life would far less interesting. Also without them, I would have no reason to don my tiara and feel superior.  (I do hope you detect the tongue in my cheek.)

So here’s to the characters, fictional and real, who make the plot lines of my own little drama infinitely more entertaining. 

Posted in Just Funny, Parenting, Starting Over

the name game

At the age of 46, I became a grandmother. I don’t know how it happened.

I mean, I’m not stupid.  I know HOW it happened, I just don’t know WHAT happened.     To my life, that is. Where’d it go so fast?

The worst part of the grandmother gig was The Name Change.

See, I like my name: Stephanie. Steph to those who are close. I like my identity: Mom. Mommy, even still on occasion, to both my grown children. I’m a natural at the mom thing. It fits me. But this “G” word thing…ohhhhh, not so much. It SOUNDS old. It FEELS old. And I have to live with this stupid grandmother name for the rest of my natural-born life (which may be spent in the state pen for strangling my son with his own tongue if he refers to me as “MeeMahw” one more time.)

I am so not kidding.

As far as I’m concerned, if you insist on calling me any variation of the “G” word, just go ahead and put me in an Alfred Dunner blouse, pull my hair back in a bun, and plant me in a pine box. That’s all she wrote. It’s over and done. The fat lady has sung.

I needed a cool, or at least creative, name.

Not TOO creative, mind you. I’ve run across my fair share of monikers like Granny Grunt, Big Momma, Gunkie, Cookie, Cherry, Sweetums, Cracker, Chicken Nana and Butter Butt. Seriously?!

So I embarked on a 6-month quest to ascertain an alias. As Thomas Edison might have said, “I did not fail. I just found 10,000 names that wouldn’t work.” At least not for me.

Right off the bat, I eliminated the names already in use in my family: Nana, Granny, Grandmama, MaMa, etc.

I also ruled out Grand-MaMa as I don’t have the appropriate jewels to be a Dowager Countess.

MaMaw, MeMaw and GeeMaw all sound too much like HeeHaw. YeeHaw.

Gams – not exactly well-suited for a gal with tree trunk legs.

I thought there might be potential within the international community:
Ya-Ya (Greek) – but I’m not a Sisterhood, nor do I have any Divine Secrets. 

Lola (Philippino) – she was a showgirl, you know, with yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to THERE. But I don’t Merengue or do the ChaCha.

And then there was the Yiddish Bube.  Boobie?

Speaking of boobies (Did I REALLY just use the word “boobies” in my blog?), the cowboy thought I should be ChiChi, which is a Spanish euphemism for breasts. Frankly, I always have cleavage issues, even in a turtleneck, so my g-mother name shouldn’t further the focus.

DeeDee can be a grandmother name, but double D’s brought us back to the boobie thing, so no. 

MPViaI kinda liked the concept of Diva or Goddess, but there’s no way my kids would have EVER let me get away with those. At least not without an ironic tiara.

One of the kids at church always greeted me with “Hello, Gorgeous!” I kinda liked THAT.

And “Hot Granny” was offered as a choice, but who are we kidding here? That is the ultimate oxymoron. If you don’t believe me, google at your own risk.  

Frankly, I just like “Stephie“. It’s what my niece and nephew have always called me, but I was told that using my real name would sound disrespectful out of the mouths of babes.  Ugh. The quest continued.  

As Kacey and I were driving around discussing my dilemma, she said my new name should be cute and cool, but be something that’s NOT my real name.

Fine.

After analyzing all the data, I decided on the perfect grandmother name. It’s cute and cool and NOT my real name…

Veronica.