Not the Real Thing

So as I'm certifiably sick, fever and all, I will again be brief. (I may have promised a more polished post than yesterday's yesterday, but what can you do? I will try tomorrow.) Writing this just reminded me of the time I turned in an English paper headed by the quotation, "Brevity is the soul of wit." And writing that, I am reminded of the time I turned in an English paper co-written with my roommate on which we pasted a sticker bearing the words: Two for the price of one. Ah, such cleverness. As my mother likes to say, that and a dime will buy you a coke. FYI, in the first case, it didn't help. In the second, it did.

So, as an antidote to all that cleverness (I am never sure how well sarcasm comes across online), I will relay a brief anecdote from earlier in the evening. On the way to school the other morning, a friend, whose child goes to school with Lily, was raving about the Kosher Coke she'd ordered from Fresh Direct, the grocery delivery service we have here in New York. Now I used to be a bigtime coke drinker but, I've been off the stuff for years. Somehow, though, listening to her go on about how refreshing it was, how much like the vastly superior coke in Mexico and Europe it was (which I knew to be true based on my own experience), how delicious it was on ice after her kids had gone to bed (okay, she didn't say that, but that's what I was picturing for me, although motor oil would probably taste decent to me after my kids have gone to bed). And on and on, until I knew that I, too, would have to order some of the Kosher Coke for myself.

I placed a delivery order yesterday, adding two 2-liter bottles of the stuff, which took me forever to find, as it was not listed under either "soda" or "Kosher" on the website. Tonight, the order came while we were eating dinner, and all through dinner, the early part of the evening, bedtime, I imagined pouring myself a tall fizzy glass of Coke, the first I'd had in a while. I imagined sinking into the reclining chair with my glass and watching Jim Lehrer (which is my own personal code for Gossip Girl, so I can try to trick myself into thinking I don't actually watch it) with my feet up. I'd decided against a lemon slice. I'd chosen my glass.

Because I am whatever the opposite is of a fount of amusing or enlightening things to say these days, when I was finally ready to pour, I came out with one of the bottles to show Ben the yellow cap, tell him what I was about to do. I shared the story, my friend's exciting tip, and waited for, well, him to drop dead of boredom or embarrassment for me? I don't know. Instead, he asked what was different about the Kosher Coke, and I--thrilled by a glimmer of interest--explained sagely that it had no corn syrup. That it is better for you (?) because it is made with sugar instead. I actually made this up, I confess to you now; it may actually just be that it's blessed by a rabbi.

Ben looked confused. He looked at the bottle I was holding like an Academy Award, close to my heart. Isn't that Diet Coke? he said. Diet Coke doesn't have any corn syrup anyway, right?

Sigh. In case you are not sufficiently Jewish, I will impart the one new thing I learned today: Aspartame is rabbi-approved.