I’m on a train where I just walked past a mom and, standing next to her, her little boy who has dumped on his seat an entire parking lot’s worth of toy cars. He is deep into a brrm brrm brrrm fantasy, which reminds me of traveling with my daughters when …
Casey thinks “Fetch!” means watch Mommy throw a ball and yell “Fetch!” I ponder whether he’s bored on my new Huffington Post post.
Before going out the other night, I headed into the living room, whose door I keep closed so my beagle-y mutt Casey can’t get in and dig at the rug. As soon as I entered, I glimpsed a twitch of a bushy tail by the window. It was a squirrel …
My first tip today is get a mantra. Many of the things I worry about, I have little or no control over. For instance, what if the power goes off while I’m cooking Thanksgiving dinner? Then there’s my preoccupation with how I’ll keep my brain busy and distracted if I’m …
At dress rehearsal with its stomach-turning surprises, like having to dance onto stage, I asked myself What was I thinking when I agreed to this? At first it sounded like fun to be one of nine storytellers in a Valentine’s Day show, “Sucker for Love.” But I had not signed up …
I can practically bring myself to tears with morbid fantasies. When a TV commercial aired for a movie about someone getting buried alive, I immediately pictured myself meeting such a fate. I tried to reason that of all the people I had ever known, and all the people each of …
I’m trying to figure out how many future unborn generations I should worry about. Down to my great grandchildren seems reasonable. But if I care about them, shouldn’t I care about their children and grandchildren and so forth? There is no end. It’s like one of those photographs of someone …
A less worried blogger would not hesitate to announce something like, “Wednesdays will be TIP DAY!” Then every Wednesday, followers could count on getting a tip that offers a way to deal with worry. But imagine what it would do to a worrywart like me if on a Wednesday I couldn’t post …
Recently, while visiting my daughter at college, I awoke in the night with the worst pain I’ve had since giving birth. In a way this suffering was more severe than childbirth, because the cannonball that was grinding inside my belly never let up the way contractions do. I thought I …
Sometimes I play a game in which I name an object and then try to associate a worry with it, just to see if I can stump myself. “Venetian blinds,” I say. “Peeping Tom!” I answer without having inhaled. “Tomatoes,” I try. “Salmonella poisoning!” Another way to play is to …