Three aging goddesses
Here we are, enjoying a lively kvetch session: On one side, Maura, a great gal I've known since we first met at the light in 7th grade and bonded over why it took so long to change, not realizing at that tender stage that the correct answer was, and will always be, "It is what it is." On the other side, Yael, a great gal Maura introduced me to a while back and a true "It Is What It Is" expert. After an illuminating kvetch-o-rama about our temperamental bodies, the meaning of "It is what it is" became clearer. "It Is What It Is" is really "It Is What It Eff'n Is." Or, if you prefer, acceptance. Yet you can't accept whatever you're dealing with unless you complain about it at length, shed a tear or two along the way, and get some excellent advice from wonderful friends who get you. After all, if you can name one boomer who doesn't wish they could order up a nice replacement body part on Amazon for the holidays, then you hang out with a much healthier bunch than I do.
When I got home, I asked Sir Blakey, wise and noble and oh-so-royal, if he knew what "It Is What It Is" means. He struck this pose, one of his favorites, as if to say, "What does it matter? It means what it means, now give me a belly rub." If that's not acceptance, canine-style, what is?
And speaking of acceptance, I'm not sure what this Beverly Hills decoration is, a Xmas Tree, Palm Tree or Overgrown Hanukkah Bush, but I can accept that it's pretty. What I'm saying is: It Is What It Is depends on your personal needs, and that sums it all up, don't you agree?
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