I just commented to Nancy: “You know, the last column was about all the things that annoy me. Maybe this time I should write about all the things I love!”
Under his breath: “That’ll be a short list.”
Sigh. Turns out he was right. Dammit. Am I really that miserable? Maybe. Because I must admit, objects of my adoration are few and far between. I mean aside from the usual love-fest for things like Lay’s potato chips and Cadbury Eggs. I’d sell a kidney for a bag of Cadbury Eggs right now.
Let’s give it a go, shall we? If only to make me feel better about my snarky, easily annoyed self.
1. Well, I love straight shooters. I admire anyone who can speak without the “fluff filter” in place. There’s a time and a place for pretend niceties, but it ain’t when you’re speaking to this columnist. Do not blow sunshine up my booty and we can be friends.
2. I think we can all agree: I love to laugh. Sadly, I sometimes cannot control when my the giggles bubble to the surface: funerals, doctor’s appointments, traffic stops … you get the idea. My friends think this is the mask atop my anxiety, but I think it’s just because I’m an ass.
3. Two words: Reality Television. I cannot help myself. If there is a Real Housewife on Bravo, all time stops. I schedule everything around these cheap, tawdry productions. 90 Day Fiancée? Married at First Sight? My 600 Pound Life? Yes. Please.
4. I love my home. Throughout years of cramped apartments, tiny bungalows, a brief stint in turquoise and pink-enrobed California, I always dreamt of owning a towering, slightly shabby Victorian home. I feel so lucky to have it. Sure, the roof leaks, the plaster crumbles and this week, the attic toilet wanted to emerge through the ceiling beneath it, but I embrace all that. The walls speak to me, the creaky steps play a song of 1923, and the gorgeous front doors have been slammed in many faces. If I had to choose between my house and Nancy … well, Nancy, the suitcases are under the bed.
5. I love Pilates class. I love my instructor, who has more faith in me than I do in myself, and I adore my friends in this class who whine with me, cry with me, encourage me through so many challenges, but absolutely do not pass gas with me. (Lie on your back, lower and lift your legs 10 times and tell me you don’t release your toots to the heavens!) This class has saved me when nothing else works, shapes me when nothing else works and helps escalate my self-esteem when nothing else but vodka works.
6. I love any meat product with flecks of fat and in any shape and size, in a can or out of a can, wrapped in casing from a hog, or flattened in a frying pan; there is no meat of this sort that I will not eat. I’m a hardy Polack who loves her salty, fatty meat-like products. Hello, Mr. Lipid. Take a hike. Like, literally, on my triglycerides chart.
7. I love my grown-up kids so much, it hurts. I love that they are now big people with whom I would choose to hang out, over anyone else. Except Bradley Cooper. Apparently, my mental instability standard of mothering did little to screw them up, and they are, quite frankly, lovely human beings. I cherish them.
8. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I love Nancy, too. I’m glad he asked me to the Junior prom. I’m holding out hope for the AARP Formal. I hope he wears his leisure suit and bow tie again. Annoyances come too easily to me. Loving comes a little harder, but I’m game. All the important people in my life feel my true affection and I think that may be all that matters. Bring me a liverwurst sandwich and you are on the list.
