Gerkananakan -- "the precise moment when dog doo turns white".
It's not that I mention the 80s sitcom "The Golden Girls" that often -- but when I do, it always brings a smile to the other person. Just one of those comedies where the humor still feels fresh, no matter how many times one has viewed certain scenes.
There was once when it was brought up to me around the turn of the century. I knew an astrologer, Nancy, via meditation classes I used to take. She was about fifteen years older than me. After not seeing each other for a while, we went to lunch one day. She was a nanny for an upper middle class household and lived in their basement. At lunch, she talked about how wrecked her life was, all due to being born with Saturn in whatever House. She was a hapless victim of her astrology chart. She said, "I never would have guessed, when I was younger and married, that I'd end up in my fifties, living in somebody's basement."
But what I remember most from that day was her talking about how she wished she could be in a living situation like "The Golden Girls". I told her that, yes, I could see the appeal and had really loved the show. And then we both, almost simultaneously, repeated to each other our favorite line -- when the notoriously ultra naive Rose voiced one of her neverending Scandinavian words, and said it meant "the precise moment when dog doo turns white." Who could ever forget such an unexpected line as that?
Any dog owner with a yard knows about white dog poop. One finds lots of it after the snow finally clears after winter, revealing ulta decayed, mummified poop that wasn't devoured by insects (or the other dogs).
I don't know whatever happened to Nancy. I do recall her pounding the lunch table while decrying how the planet Saturn had doomed her to a less than satisfying life. "My Saturn, my Saturn," she moaned, thoroughly victimized by a planet millions of miles away. I hope she eventually found her "Golden Girls" situation and stopped thinking so much about Saturn.
I also presented "Golden Girls" to another friend of mine, while she was facing a distant future without her ill husband, without knowing how far in the future that would be. I told that she was never going to be on the street -- if nothing else, she could come to live with me. She said her twin sister, who also had a severely ill husband, had said the same thing. I guess I never actually voiced it, but it's crossed my mind that the three of us might find ourselves all living together, a decade from now, like "The Golden Girls." That's a pleasant thought.
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