Remember that episode of Sex and the City where Carrie has just started dating Jack Burger? We see that she's just finished reading his newly published book - she's thrilled that he is a fantastic writer - she can love the man because she loves his work.
When he asks her what she thinks of it she gushes enthusiastically - then launches into a rant about the detail in the book that has his main character running all over Manhattan wearing a Scrunchie in her hair. How no self-respecting Manhattan-ite/Fashionista would be caught dead wearing a Scrunchie anywhere other than her bathroom, washing her face before bed!
As if he can go back and take that out of the book. Yikes. You know she's gone too far. The rant was supposed to be lighthearted and funny and instead it turns into a big - ugly deal.
I remember talking to a friend after seeing that episode for the first time - saying, "Wouldn't it be nice if you could erase those mountains made from molehills by simply saying... 'Hey, it's just a Scrunchie... never mind, it's nothing'."
I realized then that the sort of man who would be the right fit for me, would be the guy who understands when I'm just ranting and know that it's nothing. Just a rant. Dismiss it. Never mind.
I came across an ad the other day that had the word Scrunchie in it - and I was reminded of that little epiphany made years ago.
Then I realized, I found that guy. With whom I share that little pact.
When we first started dating, Mr. Burns he told me about some cartoon he saw that involved a misunderstanding between space aliens and some cows.
The dialogue was subtitled, because much of the conversation was in cow. You know, 'Moo'.
At the resolution of the saga, when all the misunderstandings but one were cleared up, the aliens asked for one more clarification.
"Oh, that was Phil's fault." one cow says to the aliens.
The scene reveals Phil the Cow (steer?) lifting his hand/hoof in an apologetic manner as he says, "Moo. Moo, moo."
Mr. Burns found this hilarious. "Moo. Moo, moo." meant, "Sorry. My bad." or "Yeah. Can we forget it?"
When we would get into little rants and rows he would stop and say, "Moo. Moo, moo."
We'd both crack up. It'd break the ice and we could get back to the business at hand.
Before long we were both doing it. We made up different inflections, a single moo. A drawn out moooo. Or a short, quick Moo. To make a point. It became our own language.
One night at a party, Mr. Burns was relating some story to some new friends. At the end of his story, he defaulted to shorthand and said, "Moo. Moo, moo."
Luckily, our new friends had been pulled into a different conversation and didn't notice. After I finished laughing I pulled close to him and whispered, "Honey. They don't speak Moo."
This was our shorthand. A silly way to communicate.
And just this week, I realized - that was a quality I wanted all along. Someone who knows when a Scrunchie is just a Scrunchie. A cigar is just a cigar.
Move on - don't sweat the small stuff.
Mr. Burns and I have been spending time together again lately, and he often effuses about the Power of Moo.
Sure. Some people might see it as avoidance. He sees it as a representation of our ability to communicate. How we relate to one another.
We were always careful not to abuse the Moo. "No. This isn't a Moo. This is serious." then we get down to business. We understand what's worth spending time discussing - and what we shouldn't waste our time on.
It's just... you know... Moo.