Pfunksfoolosophy

I meant to blog about this yesterday, but it slipped my mind.

A friend of mine and I were standing outside our favorite watering hole in the West Village. It was dusk, which is my favorite time of day due to the favorable lighting, and we were watching the police’s traffic unit hook up a Jeep to their tow truck. What made it particularly entertaining is that we assumed that the owner of the truck had to have been  an entitled person of means because he/she parked directly next to a fire hydrant. Either that, or they were completely ignorant about parking rules.
The owner of the Jeep parked in front of the very tony workout establishment called ‘Equinox’. Many celebrities in the area work out there. We watch them while eating potato chips or other snacks. I like to have a milkshake if I can afford it. Sometimes we toast them if they catch us gawking. It breaks up the day for us.

Anyway, as we’re making our snarky, witty commentary, who should approach from around the corner but Ethan Hawke. My friend spotted him first.
My friend: Check it out, Ethan Hawke has ice cream all over his face and he just threw the cone away.

Me(turning to look. then laughing): No way!

As Ethan approaches (I am laughing and laughing) my friend says, ‘What’s  wrong, dude? Didn’t like the cone?’

Ethan (making the blech face and wiping his face with his hands):ICK!

The man could have used a good scrubbing. I don’t think  his teeth have seen an abrasive cleanser since the Reagan administration. And the hair. Pulled back into a rat’s nest ponytail. I had never seen one before. (I am amazed. )
He was also wearing orange track pants. Neither my friend nor I enjoyed looking at them. Yep, we made sport of him. That’s our way.

Ethan took it in stride, G-d bless him. He shrugged and went on his messy way, wiping his face with his already sticky hands

You’d think that he’d wash before he goes out in public. He has kids. Lead by example, I say. I hope they don’t smell like urine. Or worse. I’m thinking of sending him a little gift basket when I get the means.

Poor kid. Hope he gets home okay.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about my relationships–specifically my relationships with other women. It’s a complicated, delicate balance for most people, but I’ve had the same best friend since we were 7 years of age. We met the summer before 2nd grade and I had just moved into town.

Kim and I have had our share of ups and downs and after this long we know when to just leave the other alone. I attribute this to the fact that we were both told, ‘It takes a friend to keep a friend’.

It’s true. What does that mean? Well, to me it means that you have to be honest. When you’re stressed out and  your best buddy calls you with a challenge or they’re stressed out also…the best thing to do is listen as much as you can. Sometimes you have to tell her, ‘I can’t listen to you right now.’ This doesn’t  mean you don’t want to listen; it means you CAN’T listen. You don’t have the tools available to be empathetic because you’re just too stressed and you’ve got to nurture yourself.

It takes a long time to get to that point with a friend, I know. Still, I think that if you care about the friend, you’ll find ways to cultivate that relationship.

It goes beyond having a love for shopping or make up or whatever else people think women are supposed  to enjoy. You need a solid foundation. Everyone isn’t going to fit.

You have to try them on for a while and see if you like the way things work. If you don’t have a common ground you’ll find out soon enough. Making friends is a snap. Just start talking and you’ll see that you get along just fine. The thing is, you’re not going to move past  that honeymoon phase if you don’t talk about the real stuff.

Your morals (Kim and I both have loose ones), your beliefs (we have a strong faith), your interests (we both have varied interests…most of them involve gawking at good looking men) , sense of humor (we’ve been at it a long time) and so many other intangibles make your friendship long lasting and interesting.

Sure, we have often sat in the same room not talking to one another for hours on end, but it’s not because we have nothing to say to one  another, it’s that we’re comfortable enough with one another that we DON’T have to speak. That’s the good stuff.

We send one another stupid cards, we talk on the phone about nothing and everything.

The last conversation we had was filled with the usual catching up stuff, but we ended up talking about how G-d is looking down at us saying  that classic Professor Marvel line from “The Wizard of Oz”: “Poor kid. Hope she gets home okay”…’cause he knows we’re usually so preoccupied that we’re bound for disaster…Also I suspect because G-d knows it would make us laugh. He’s that kind of friend.