Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.Wandering into the land of the "X" chromosome By J. G. Fabiano One of the nice parts about teaching is you get breaks throughout the year in order to have you not wring the necks of some of your students and for the students to not do the same to you. A few weeks ago I was in the midst of one of these breaks when my wife and I decided to do some shopping and simply spend the day together. This seemed like a good idea until I was asked to stop into stores like "Marshall’s" and "T.J.Max". Don’t get me wrong; these stores are fine as long as you know what you want when you enter them. If you are there to surf the aisles this is a horrendous activity for the spouse you took with you. Hours later I was still in the homewares section of the store picking out a cheese dish that will fit perfectly with the other hundred or so cheese dishes we have hidden in our home. We finally left when my wife noticed I was hyperventilating around women’s ware. Since I couldn’t talk her into stopping at the local pub we drove. Before we drove into the drive-way my wife noticed all of her nieces were visiting over a neighbor’s house who happens to be another niece. Since we moved to York almost 30 years ago most of my wife’s family and my family moved up to what I believe is one of the most beautiful places on Earth. I dropped her off because the temperature was well below 10 degrees and I had all the goods purchased on that day in the trunk of my car. I told her to give me a call after her visit and even though her niece’s house was a few houses down the block I told her I didn’t mind picking her up. After I put the groceries away and piled up all the other stuff on the kitchen table because there was no way I was going to figure out where what went or where something would fit. I then made an odd decision. Instead of staying home and watching CNN for the millionth time that week I decided to drive over to the house I had just dropped off my wife. In other works I entered into the "X" chromosome zone. Do you ever wonder what women talk about when the men are away or at work? That afternoon I found out. After surprising the heck out of the girls because I think I was the first "Y" chromosome to ever invade their afternoon summit. They offered me some tea of which I refused because I knew where my nephew-in-law stored his beer. I then sat at the table and did what I do best. I simply observed. They were all sitting around the kitchen table with their children running wildly throughout the house. I counted four kids but I thought there should be five. Later on in the day my niece told me one of hers was visiting a friend. Relieved to the fact they did not lose a kid I kept quiet and took in this strange world around me. As all the women of this world sat around the table they read magazines. Not just one or two but I think I counted over two dozen. The odd part about this was the magazines were all current. I had visions of a mailman using a front-end loader to deliver this many magazines. Then, all of a sudden, one of the women of the group talked about glugging. At first I thought she might have a problem and since one of her children was now hanging over the side of the stairs this made some sense to me. But, after a few seconds I found out she was talking about how much bleach one should put in a wash. I guess she used the term glugs to designate some sort of measuring. It was obvious the group knew what she was talking about because they all agreed and decided two glugs were better than one. The conversation then evolved into massage therapy and physical therapy. I did not see the connection because the last time I had physical therapy the sadist doing the maneuvers tried to attach my shoulder blade to my ankle. Needless to say I never had a second appointment. The girls, on the other hand, talked about back massages and gentle stretches that made them yearn for their future appointments. Maybe it has something to do with the hair on my back. Then, with absolute ease, the conversation surrounded the topic of doughnuts of times past. They talked about the old style doughnut shops every town had at its center next to its town hall and church. One of the women stated she never met a crème doughnut she didn’t like. From crème doughnuts to tans of summer’s past to how one can spray on a tan without becoming orange to how a tan makes your skin grow older but that it is OK because you look good during the summer and who the heck looks at you during the winter anyway. Feeling like I was watching a tennis match my head kept on snapping back and forth attempting to understand what all this meant even though genetically I knew this was impossible. Shoes became the topic for a few minutes with make-up taking over. One of the girls said she had a new kind of make-up in which she would be more than happy to share. My mind’s eye then swept into a conversation I will never have with another man concerning a new form of deodorant and whether or not he would like to share it. After a while I felt like I was in some kind of sitcom. The ladies were drinking their tea and eating their crème things I have yet to figure out what they are. During all this conversation I sat quietly drinking my beer and basically afraid to move. The only break from my isolation was when the dog came up to my feet, looked up, and gave me a kind of helpless stare. I think he was trying to show me what he has to put up with every day of his male life. All I could think about was better you than me. Hollywood and Shop NBC were discussed in unison as if they had anything to do with each other. Shopping strategies were discussed as if they were planning an attack on a friendly nation. With this group I would never call the concept of shopping unfriendly. The most interesting part of this whole experience was I noticed one of the women of the crowd not talking about shoes, shopping, or make-up. She was discussing something she had to do in her professional life. She continued to talk even though no one was listening. What made this scene even more bizarre was as she was talking one of the other women was fixing her hair. The conversation never swayed toward her subject. I assume the group believed it simply didn’t fit. After a few hours the group gathered up their children who were still remarkably alive and left the house. I gathered my wife and left for home and a full glass of wine. There are many things in my life I shouldn’t do. Some of these consist of parachuting, coal mining, and owning a gun. Falling into the realm of women enjoying each other without their men is something I just added to this list. The End.
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