As easy dinners go, this is the easiest. All you need is 4 ingredients.
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susan fishman orlins
Is it enough just to entertain? Or do I need to make a point, share a reflection?
Now I have set myself up for failure in two ways:
All this fed into my recurring imaginings of how to celebrate my death, and whether to do so after or before it occurs . . .
Back to another beau, who could say words backwards and so can I, except someone once stumped me in the Say This Backwards game with “onomatopoeia.”
A Washington Story: What if he’s a terrorist? He’ll know where I live. Better to remain inconspicuous.
Does this rah rah for winter months raise questions about my worrywart creds? Should I worry that my upbeat tendencies will discred my worrywart brand?
Valentine sex will be an issue for many couples. This manufactured day of romance offers men and women an opportunity to examine their sexual relationship.
What makes for a successful marriage? What can be done about marital problems? My two previous posts highlighted Betsy’s story and Harry’s story; below is Victoria’s story. Victoria is 58 years old and a retired history professor living in Chicago: The biggest challenge I faced in my marriage was when my …
Yesterday we heard from Victoria about her recipe for a successful marriage and avoiding marital problems. Today, a man shares how to be happily married.
Most daunting of all, how to sign my book for close friends? A writer ought to be clever, even on short notice.
I never prayed for Steve to win the election, only to keep our sanity intact.
I can’t remember why I was only fine, rather than the usual great, but this makes an important point:
“Susan Orlins is America’s funniest neurotic since Woody Allen. Just be careful you don’t crack a rib reading her memoir, Confessions of a Worrywart.”
For a worrywart, it is challenging to come up with just one resolution when there are so many choices. So I have selected several from my 2012 grab bag to inspire you to worry less and indulge more in 2013.
But why isn’t anyone talking about campaign finance reform?
I didn’t see why that was so funny, until they caught their breath and told me . . .
I am a fan of Amtrak’s quiet car, yet I harbor love-hate emotions toward the sub-culture of those who journey in this vessel of alleged silence.
Why do we type
The addressee’s address
Above the salutation?
Does he or she
Need this information?
I got into our new box of SOS and shredded the pads and discovered how good the soap tasted. When Mommy came in and shrieked and I ran away. She scolded me. I pretended to be ashamed.
Suddenly a skinny, little girl—of perhaps seven years—broke free from her family and darted in front of my bicycle.
Even before 9-11 I wondered what I would do if confronted with the terrifying choice to either jump or burn. Ideas came to me this morning before I opened my eyes.
Recently, after reading about a breakfast club, my breakfast club envy flared up.
“Mom! That’s exactly why I’m terrified of sponges!” my daughter cried.
Like a bicycle tire that has just rolled over a shard of glass, the air began seeping out of my buoyant mood.
On a Sunday evening in New York I enjoyed a lovely dinner at the Union Square Café with my friend Jessica. I was happy with my pappardelle until two thirds of the way through my meal, at the next table, a waitperson placed in front of a trim young woman …
Do all my awesomes sound like I’m trying to seem young and cool—the language equivalent of someone my age wearing short, short skirts and skimpy tank tops?
When the car’s gas tank gets down to a quarter full, I begin to worry that if there is a terrorist attack, I won’t get very far in my car, so I then make haste to a gas station.
A 9th-grade philosopher—my boyfriend George—once said, “When you get a haircut, you never look better. At best, you don’t look worse.”
Keeping up with friends and making friends require effort. In general, there are the reacher-outers (me) and the reacher-outees (most people I know).
I regret not only some of my meddling on my children’s behalf, but also having kept a secret.