The Dysfunctional Family

Most #shrinks would discourage their clients' attempts to live vicariously--for instance, watching 1,200 slides of someone's trip to #Romania instead of getting on a plane and going there yourself. And I'd have to agree with a lot of the #objections. Taking risks and venturing into the unknown builds character much more than sitting #safely in your room and ruminating about sky diving, water skiing, or alpine climbing. But once in a while living #vicariously is a great way to taunt someone and at the same time identify with another individual's #expertise. Junior high provided several occasions for this. After all, most kids that age have not yet reached the point where cliques and social status define their role in the educational hierarchy.To put it simply, eighth and ninth graders have more of a pack mentality than their elders (high schoolers). Their cohesiveness permits them to agree to perform various group #behaviors that can complicate the lives of teachers. I...

It's time to #laugh a little, maybe a lot, and I've got just the thing to stimulate strong guffaws. Here is a SHORT list of some things that #scare me. Maybe they #scare you too! 1. Sparklers--Last night we were outside with the dogs and all of a sudden I heard a boom and saw smoke. I was so confused by what happened that my mouth became instantly dry of saliva and my vocal chords were paralyzed. Finally I saw where the smoke was coming from: Our next-door #neighbors were setting off the remainder of their July 4th firecracker toys. My #husband kept insisting that all the sparks flying out in a million different directions were harmless, but I was worried that one spark might touch a dry spot on our house and ignite, causing a fire. So I said in a loud voice: JULY 4TH IS OVER. Then my husband in a loud whisper reprimanded me. "I don't want to fight with our neighbors," he said, wagging his finger at me. But as abruptly as the fireworks display began, it ended. 2...

When I think back over the good times in my #life, I have to admit that many of them were #gifted by guys. No #surprise there, but worth mentioning, especially to those readers of the male persuasion and the gals who like or love them. Ladies: Give yourself an extra pat on the back if you're in such a #relationship. Here's a litany of the guys who stand out most in my #dysfunctional life. My #husband's partner, Greg, is the first good guy to come to mind. His #wisecracks and self-deprecating humor always enlivened any social occasion. We spent several Mother's Days and #Easters with him, and his polite #demeanor never failed to impress me. He had a wickedly dark side to his wit, however. Once in a while, he'd joke that "it was time for a good funeral." He meant he liked the energy of social interaction mixed with #storytelling. Greg managed to spread joy at many a somber gathering. Like Minnesota celeb Garrison Keillor, he'd stand at the podium and te...

I like to #eat, but I'm getting more particular as I age. Used to be I'd eat anything on my plate that resembled food, even if it sometimes was too bloody, too cold, or too spicy. But now it's like everything is too salty--chips, popcorn, soup, even my old reliable favorite,  quesadillas. Where did this come from? It's not like the doctor said cut back on your salt, you fatty, or I'm going to force those high blood pressure #pills down your throat. No one even whispered it to me except possibly the government, and they don't count because you know nothing ever gets done in that paper-pushing world of #bureaucracy. The "not too much salt" just seemed to spring out of the blue, and at about the same time, so did the "wanna sweet anything" #craving. I actually prefer meals that are entirely sweet. French toast with syrup is one of my favorites. For lunch, I've having one of those ice cream sandwiches between two waffle-like wafers. #Breakf...

I just recently had a #medical shocker about one of my #dogs, and I don't know how it will all end, but hope is the one thing that is getting me through. Hoping for a better #outcome, hoping the doctors misdiagnosed, hoping for a  miracle--the basket of hopes is helping me to withstand the #pain of not knowing and the #agony of fearing the worst. Everyone depends on hope as a coping device. It doesn't matter if the triggering event is joyful or tragic. A few years back I wrote a story on resilience for a national publication. The #focus of the article was on an Olympic swimmer who became #paralyzed through an ATV #accident. What keeps her going each day? Hope. The hope that she may get better through sophisticated medical technology. The hope that her story can serve as an inspiration to other similarly challenged adults. The article collected every positive attribute people use as coping strategies under the heading of resilience. But I prefer to call it hope. More religious...