Tag Archives: anxiety

Stress.Body Scans Gone Wild!

Posted on by
Reply

Dateline: North Austin Medical Center. Cough and Wheeze Section.

As an effort to lend a bit of joy to the Season while I attempt to return to the land of the breathing, I’m running a series from last year explaining how to make extra money.

As you can imagine, if you read part one of the Body Scan manual, I am buried in demand for my products.  At long last, I’m going to be rich.  People will notice me.  No one will cross me. I will have achieved the American Dream.

What’s that you say?  The American Dream is more than buying expensive stuff?  Oh, no…..You’re saying those of us not so steady in the emotional maturity department would try to BUY our way out of anxiety?  Ridiculous.  What’da ya think?  Black or tan leather in the BMW?

In Progress….Turn Body Scans into Fortunes!

Body Scan Clearance Event! End Holiday Stress.

Posted on by
Reply

Best of Mysteryshrink.

Dateline: The North Austin Medical Center International Branch Office. Everyone’s here.

Not wanting you to miss a giggle, as I recover (been two and a half weeks, so recovery’s still a far away dream), I’m sending Christmas Cheer from Christamas Past.   Yeah, still, with all that’s going on, you gotta giggle to make Christamas work.

Scuse me. Must pause for ten minute fit of death-arousing coughing.

Here ya go in three parts.

Clearance Sale. Body Scans for Everyone on Your List!

How Much Would You Pay for a Photo of a Woman Changing Clothes at Target?

If you named a figure, you haven’t spent much time checking out the bodies of me and my fellow shoppers roaming the aisles at Target.

Timing is everything when it comes to cashing in on windfalls. Remember the infamous military pilots association Tailhook Convention at one of the major Las Vegas hotels? Probably not. You don’t remember…because being a much nicer person than I am….You didn’t immediately start searching the globe for a similar convention where you could “accidentally” show up and hang out in the hall in your seductively trimmed Snuggy.

I’d set my sights on winning the lottery, but I can’t keep up with the rules. Thus, my fortune must come from another clever ploy….When I read about the woman in the hallway where the Tailhook conventioneers loaded up on booze started in inventing party games…the woman who claimed someone had shaved her legs…was awarded several million dollars from the hotel to assuage her wounded sense of self…and quiet any further mention of the hotel’s name….

You see where we’re headed here. Yes, I’m hawking full body scans from my various airport security adventures. The best value will be the boxed set. The premium box set includes Scans Around the World and Psychologists Go Wild.

Apparently, “the world some of us are responding to” has in it hordes of Transportation Safety officers thirsting to drool at shiny outlines of travelers at the rate of hundreds per hour….See above comment regarding the erotic potential of me and my Target friends…those porn-crazy body scan voyeurs…are bad enough. But then for people like my special person whose torso contains a medical device…there are those super-bad TSA perverts falling all over themselves to pat him and other similar bodies past their prime.

Hey, what a way to save money in the federal budget. There must be tens of thousands of people who’d pay to have these fantastic, exciting, and indeed exotic jobs. So, no more salaries.

And that’s just the beginning of how the feds can reduce the deficit. If you’ve been on a cruise, you are familiar with the “boarding photograph” tradition. A professional photographer takes a shot of you on the stairs giving a movie-star wave. These photos are displayed for purchase on the wall of the ship opening to the dining room. Yes. Now you see the potential. TSA officers can display two or three hundred body scans a day for sale on the walls of the airport….The money will be pouring into Washington, D.C.

I’m picturing bidding wars here.

What I’m really picturing is myself at fourteen being driven by my mother to my first gynecologist appointment. I’m nervous, of course. Until my mother asked me a question landing me back in reality. “Barbara, do you have any surprises for the doctor?”
“No.” “Then I don’t see you have much to worry about.”

Today’s paper is loaded with stories of people so worried about body scanning and pat-downs they are considering canceling their Christmas plans. That would be sad. Why not have two security lines? One is for those of us who have no surprises for
the security personnel and don’t mind the scanning or the patting-down, and a
second line for those folks “terrified” of the process. And, oh yes, two planes. One for those people who feel “invaded”, allowing them to fly with other people who didn’t want to be scanned or patted. The other plane will be for those of us who’d prefer to travel with people who have gone through security.

My body scans from upcoming flights will be made available for purchase. Better yet, your copy will be free…just pay shipping and handling. Larger versions suitable for framing will be available on that table in Walgreens offering for sale all the items advertised on television as not available in stores.

I know. I promised the tale of the man who moved a mountain to prove he was right. Still to come. I just had to dive into the body scan-pat down hysteria. So mañana….Part Two. Sunburned Chap in the Fishing Hat.

 

How Much Would You Pay for a Photo of a

Woman Changing Clothes at Target?

If you named a figure, you haven’t spent much time checking out
the bodies of me and my fellow shoppers roaming the aisles at Target.

Timing is everything when it comes to cashing in on windfalls. Remember
the infamous military pilots association Tailhook Convention at one of the
major Las Vegas hotels? Probably not. You don’t remember…because being a much
nicer person than I am….You didn’t immediately start searching the globe for a
similar convention where you could “accidentally” show up and hang
out in the hall in your seductive cut-up Snuggy.

I’d set my sights on winning the lottery, but I can’t keep up
with the rules. Thus, my fortune must come from another clever ploy….When I
read about the woman in the hallway where the Tailhook conventioneers loaded up
on booze started in inventing party games…the woman who
claimed someone had shaved her legs…was awarded several million dollars from the hotel to
assuage her wounded sense of self…and quiet any further mention of the hotel’s
name….

You see where we’re headed here. Yes, I’m hawking full body scans
from my various airport security adventures. The best value will be the boxed set. The premium box set includes Scans Around the World and Psychologists Go
Wild.

Apparently, “the world some of us are responding to” has in it
hordes of Transportation Safety officers thirsting to drool at shiny outlines
of travelers at the rate of hundreds per hour….See above comment about
regarding erotic potential of me and my Target friends…those porn-crazy body
scan voyeurs…are bad enough. But then for people like my special person whose
torso contains a medical device…there are those super-bad TSA perverts falling
all over themselves to pat him and other bodies past their prime.

Hey, what a way to save money in the federal budget. There must
be tens of thousands of people who’d pay to have these fantastic, exciting, and
indeed exotic jobs. So, no more salaries.

And that’s just the beginning of how the feds can reduce the
deficit. If you’ve been on a cruise, you are familiar with the “boarding
photograph” tradition. A professional photographer takes a shot of you on the
stairs giving a movie-star wave. These photos are displayed for purchase on the
wall of the ship opening to the dining room. Yes. Now you see the potential.
TSA officers can display two or three hundred body scans a day for sale on the
walls of the airport….The money will be pouring into Washington, D.C.

I’m picturing bidding wars here.

What I’m really picturing is myself at fourteen being driven by
my mother to my first gynecologist appointment. I’m nervous, of course. Until
my mother asked me a question landing me back in reality. “Barbara, do you have any surprises for the doctor?”
“No.” “Then I don’t see you have much to worry about.”

Today’s paper is loaded with stories of people so worried about
body scanning and pat-downs they are considering canceling their Christmas
plans. That would be sad. Why not have two security lines? One is for those of
us who have no surprises for
the security personnel and don’t mind the scanning or the patting-down, and a
second line for those folks “terrified” of the process. And, oh yes, two
planes. One for those people who feel “invaded”, allowing them to fly with
other people who didn’t want to be scanned or patted. The other plane will be
for those of us who’d prefer to travel with people who have gone through
security.

My body scans from upcoming flights will be made available for
purchase. Better yet, your copy will be free…just pay shipping and handling.
Larger versions suitable for framing will be available on that table in
Walgreens offering for sale all the items advertised on television as not
available in stores.

I know. I promised the tale of the man who moved a mountain to
prove he was right. Still to come. I just had to dive into the body scan-pat
down hysteria. So mañana….Part Two. Sunburned
Chap in the Fishing Hat.

 

How Much Would You Pay for a Photo of a
Woman Changing Clothes at Target?

If you named a figure, you haven’t spent much time checking out
the bodies of me and my fellow shoppers roaming the aisles at Target.

Timing is everything when it comes to cashing in on windfalls. Remember
the infamous military pilots association Tailhook Convention at one of the
major Las Vegas hotels? Probably not. You don’t remember…because being a much
nicer person than I am….You didn’t immediately start searching the globe for a
similar convention where you could “accidentally” show up and hang
out in the hall in your seductive cut-up Snuggy.

I’d set my sights on winning the lottery, but I can’t keep up
with the rules. Thus, my fortune must come from another clever ploy….When I
read about the woman in the hallway where the Tailhook conventioneers loaded up
on booze started in inventing party games…the woman who
claimed someone had shaved her legs…was awarded several million dollars from the hotel to
assuage her wounded sense of self…and quiet any further mention of the hotel’s
name….

You see where we’re headed here. Yes, I’m hawking full body scans
from my various airport security adventures. The best value will be the boxed set. The premium box set includes Scans Around the World and Psychologists Go
Wild.

Apparently, “the world some of us are responding to” has in it
hordes of Transportation Safety officers thirsting to drool at shiny outlines
of travelers at the rate of hundreds per hour….See above comment about
regarding erotic potential of me and my Target friends…those porn-crazy body
scan voyeurs…are bad enough. But then for people like my special person whose
torso contains a medical device…there are those super-bad TSA perverts falling
all over themselves to pat him and other bodies past their prime.

Hey, what a way to save money in the federal budget. There must
be tens of thousands of people who’d pay to have these fantastic, exciting, and
indeed exotic jobs. So, no more salaries.

And that’s just the beginning of how the feds can reduce the
deficit. If you’ve been on a cruise, you are familiar with the “boarding
photograph” tradition. A professional photographer takes a shot of you on the
stairs giving a movie-star wave. These photos are displayed for purchase on the
wall of the ship opening to the dining room. Yes. Now you see the potential.
TSA officers can display two or three hundred body scans a day for sale on the
walls of the airport….The money will be pouring into Washington, D.C.

I’m picturing bidding wars here.

What I’m really picturing is myself at fourteen being driven by
my mother to my first gynecologist appointment. I’m nervous, of course. Until
my mother asked me a question landing me back in reality. “Barbara, do you have any surprises for the doctor?”
“No.” “Then I don’t see you have much to worry about.”

Today’s paper is loaded with stories of people so worried about
body scanning and pat-downs they are considering canceling their Christmas
plans. That would be sad. Why not have two security lines? One is for those of
us who have no surprises for
the security personnel and don’t mind the scanning or the patting-down, and a
second line for those folks “terrified” of the process. And, oh yes, two
planes. One for those people who feel “invaded”, allowing them to fly with
other people who didn’t want to be scanned or patted. The other plane will be
for those of us who’d prefer to travel with people who have gone through
security.

My body scans from upcoming flights will be made available for
purchase. Better yet, your copy will be free…just pay shipping and handling.
Larger versions suitable for framing will be available on that table in
Walgreens offering for sale all the items advertised on television as not
available in stores.

I know. I promised the tale of the man who moved a mountain to
prove he was right. Still to come. I just had to dive into the body scan-pat
down hysteria. So mañana….Part Two. Sunburned
Chap in the Fishing Hat.

Reduce Stress Instantly, The Flying Lawn Chair Incident

Posted on by
Reply

Stress. The Flying Lawn Chair Incident. How to Save Time Instantly.

Dateline: DFW Airport International Branch Headquarters, chair in the corner, face to the wall.

First, I’d like to apologize to those unfortunate passengers on flights with me this weekend. If you are thinking, “Maybe I was on a plane with her and I didn’t know it,” you were not. If you recall a short blond woman, her agonized face mashed into the window, who seemed determined to cough up her lungs, or heard one side of the 737 you were in crackle and thunder, just maybe you were. I’m very, very sorry.

Want to save yourself a lot of stress and lower your personal “annoying-to-others” score? It’s really not that tough. Technically. Technically, like jumping rope for five minutes a day can change your life—technically.

To save time and stress, all you have to do is pass out a little permission and decide:

Other people get to do what they do. They do not require my agreement. My opinion is not important, nor does it make any sense for me to insist on telling people what I think of what other people do. To comment takes time and it’s annoying, except to those very few godlike beings who agree with everything I think about people who aren’t like us. Okay, enough with the sermon.

The following account is true. A retired weatherman had an idea how he could make use of several weather balloons cluttering up his garage and change the face of aviation as we know it. First he tied four balloons to an aluminum and plastic weave lawn chair. Next he strapped himself in. Then he popped the launch cords on the balloons. Ten . . . nine . . . eight . . . . three . . . two . . . one . . . LIFT OFF!

Yeah, baby. We are flying now. Mostly we are tumbling end-over-end through the first ten thousand feet. “Oh, what a beautiful blue sky–whoa, there’s my house! Oh, what a beautiful blue sky–whoa, there’s Chicago!” The view went from spectacular to, well, nauseating. But the Man Who Launched His Lawn Chair (MWLLC) was having a ball. Airport radars spotted an unidentified blip on their radar screens. News syndicates were alerted. Planes were diverted. Non-believers were converted. (Sorry, like the MWLLC, I couldn’t stop myself.)

The MWLLC’s wife wrung her hands, though when reporters asked her if she was surprised at her husband’s antics, she admitted such projects on slow summer afternoons were nothing new for her husband. She also admitted the MWLLC had stopped telling her his plans since she’d taken to calling the police and asking the procedures for getting a spouse committed.

What’s the point of this tale? As you read, did any part of you think…What kind of crazy person does something like that?

To instantly reduce stress, let go and let other people have fun. Enjoy their enjoying. You’d think we’d all be savvy on this strategy, but such is not the case. At least not for me and, unless you are Dr. L from the radio who makes no wrong moves, like me, you fall into the boring trap of questioning why other people enjoy activities and possessions you do not. And, if you are like me, when you ask this question, your tone informs listeners that, unlike myself, people are crazy and not as wise as I am if they:

Get up at 2 a.m. on Black Friday. Deep fry their turkey. Don’t deep fry their turkey. Salt their food before tasting it. Buy expensive cars. Spank their kids. Don’t spank their kids. Put up an artificial tree. Spend a day finding a real tree. Watch that stupid television show. Enjoy mincemeat pie. Watch NASCAR, golf, basketball, baseball, fake-real television families, or prison shows. Try to buy love by giving expensive Christmas presents. Are too cheap to give expensive Christmas presents. Are foolish enough to take out a second mortgage to send their child to private college. Are selfish enough to refuse to take out a second mortgage to send their child to private college.

You’ve got the picture. I know. Ouch. Ouch. Guilty. Guilty. One of the elements of psychology that continuously amazes me is how hard and complicated something as simple as enjoying the moment really is.

About the promised Triple Stuffed Turkey Recipe? Next year when I can breathe like a normal person again. Coming: Unique Gifts Only You Can Give.

Stress. Perception and “The Case of the Well-Shaved Woman”

Posted on by
Reply

Stress and Anxiety at the Pool

Dateline: San Antonio MiTierra International Branch Office. Home of most beautiful bar and an incredible bakery. Working with mariachis and tacos. Life is good.

The paper this morning had a letter from a woman who was appalled, very appalled. Appalled enough to take some serious action.  Those of us in Texas have suffered a drought over the summer leading to watering restrictions of various sorts and lots of conversation.

The Appalled Lady (AL) was writing to inform the city of a natural resources problem that, perhaps, the rest of us didn’t know about. Austin, Texas is the home of a fabulous natural swimming area amid the granite—Barton Springs. AL happened to be in the showers at Barton Springs when she spotted the . . . Degenerate Water Wasters (DWWs).

AP was actually on her way home when the dastardly deed was thrown in her face. Well, not exactly “thrown.”  Okay, to be honest, AP only overheard the crimes committed against humanity.

As AP reported, one woman took seven minutes shaving her legs in the shower.  Another woman flushed twice. Something must e done!

What we pay attention to in our world, can make life lovely or just kind of constantly irritating. But, you say, while it’s true that a person can change her interpretation of what she sees, but not what she sees. Actually you can. What you “see” is a reflection of your thoughts, the mindset you bring to the situation.

This can get scary in a hurry when it comes to family and marriage. What happens if you decide your spouse is lazy?  A control freak?  Not as smart as you?  Isn’t capable of love? Is selfish?  Who will be the person who sits down to supper across the table from you?  Which characteristics of your spouse are likely to grow?

What happens if you decide a family member is hopeless?  A political nut?  Pushy? A loser? Stuck up? What happens when you sit down to Thanksgiving dinner surrounded by these troublesome people?

What happens if Appalled Lady isn’t looking for Degenerate Water Wasters?  What happens if she notices the culprits, then decides to pay attention trying to remember the lyrics of Delta Dawn as she shares her passion as a shower singer?

Stress and the Man-Woman Thing

One study had college females pass out exams to large auditoriums of graduate students. Each participant first took a test that showed the female’s level of comfort with men. After she had handed out the exams, the researcher simply asked her to
estimate the percentage of men and women in the class. The young women who were
fearful of men or thought that men were mysterious and very different from women regularly over-estimated the number of men in the class.

Yeah, yeah. I get it. I realize that by pointing out the Appalled Woman…I’m put her in my world when I didn’t have to pay attention.

Next: The Man Who Tried to Train the Gardener.

Word to Dr. Drew: Don’t think you have to run the line, “Do Not Do This At Home” when showing the acrobats of Cirque Cirque du Soleil.  I’m pretty sure we’d figure that out 25 seconds into our plan to practice for a big show tryout.

Addiction, It Takes Two…Stress and Addiction, Final Episode

Posted on by
Reply

Dateline: San Antonio River Walk Patio Branch Office. Jennifer Lopez stood on the nearby bridge during the making of Selena.

If you are new the story of Mr. and Mrs. Travis, Catch up with Episode One, Episode Two, and Episode Three. When the next football season came around, Mrs. Travis was the one with symptoms. She’d gained thirty pounds in the past year, had trouble sleeping, and was short-tempered with the children. Mr. Travis didn’t know what was wrong with his wife.

The cell phone in the garage and weekend depressions returned. Five days before Mrs. Travis came into my office, she had discovered a second mortgage had been taken out on their house without her knowledge and a piece of lake property had been sold. The phone rang all day with people either hanging up when she answered or demanding to speak with Mr. Travis. The mailbox was stuffed with gambling tip sheets for sale.

At the time of her appointment, Mr. Travis had been in Los Angeles for a week for continuing education and was due back in three days.

Mrs. Travis asked what she should do. I looked up at the stars. We put a family diagram together including three generations. As it turned out Mrs. Travis, one of four children, had grown up next door to her maternal grandparents, an important detail. When Mrs. Travis was around ten, her father landed an incredible job opportunity tripling the family income. After several years with extra money, the family had a chance to move from the cramped and falling down house they’d bought from the wife’s parents. Everyone was excited and when an ideal house was found, the family bubbled with plans.  Then, Mrs. Travis’s mother told her parents about the plan.

Mrs. Travis, then a young teen, did not know what was said at her grandparents’ house, but heard the all night discussion of her parents. Mrs. Travis’s position was that she couldn’t move away from her parents, that her mother had been hysterical and crying with the “good” news. Her father was angry and said he felt trapped, that the little house was supposed to be temporary and, by the way, he wanted out from under the thumb of his mother-in-law. Mother countered with crying and desperation, admitting she also wanted to move. Her father pleaded with her to “for one time in her life” stand up to her mother and stick with the plan to move.  She didn’t and the family was never quite the same. Her father died of lung cancer several years later. While Mrs. Travis didn’t know if the stress of staying under her grandmother’s thumb contributed to the cancer, but she did know that his last months were unpleasant and sad with his mother-in-law constantly butting in to his treatment. Mrs. Travis remembered her father saying, “Your grandmother finally gets what she wants. She has her little girl back one hundred percent.”

When asked what might have turned out differently if her mother had been able to tell her mother “no,” Mrs. Travis let out a long sigh. “I’ve got some things to do,” she said, and left.

Having a Self and Stress

Here’s what she did, all her own plan. The next day she halved all assets and debts the family had in all accounts, including retirement funds. She called the mortgage company and arranged a re-finance for the next week. She applied for and landed a job as a manager of a pizza franchise blocks from the house.

She met Mr. Travis at the airport and suggested a drink in the airport bar to hear about his trip. She wasn’t angry at all. She was calm and greatly empowered by letting go of her crusade to get her husband to change. In fact, as she told Mr. Travis, from here on out she wasn’t going to interfere with his freedom at all. He could gamble or not, not her business anymore. She wasn’t anxious because she’d taken care of herself. She told him what she’d done with their accounts and that she would be paying the mortgage, leaving him responsible for the mortgage. She told him she had a full time job, but knowing she needed some money to start, she had accepted the penalties and withdrawn several thousand dollars from her IRA.

Mr. Travis spoke up angrily with the IRA news. He said, “That was a horrible financial decision. Paying early withdrawal fees is throwing money away!”

Mrs. Travis simply stared quietly until he picked up on the irony. She explained she still loved him and hoped they would be back together some day, but, for now, he was not welcome in the house. Mrs. Travis said, it was not personal, but she did not want to live with someone who did not tell the truth.

Maybe he would one day be a man true to his word, maybe not. Up to him.

She closed saying Mr. Travis would have to make do with what was in his luggage for tonight. He could collect whatever else he needed tomorrow. Mr. Travis said, “Hey! How am I supposed to get home?” She told him again how much she loved him and that she was sure he could figure out a way.

Mrs. Travis kissed her husband, smiled, and was gone. She wasn’t alone though. She had her “self” back.

Stress, Love, and Las Vegas, Episode Three

Posted on by
Reply

Dateline: Palacio Del Rio International Branch Headquarters in San Antonio, Texas. I once had breakfast here with Jerry Seinfeld. Okay, he was in this restaurant at the same time I was.

In order to understand the plight of Mr.and Mrs.Travis, it is necessary to read Episode One and Episode Two.

As we return to the couple, life has been good through the spring and summer. There were times when Mr. Travis seemed a bit distracted, but not often. Starting at the beginning of the summer, Mr. Travis changed a few of his habits. He stayed up until after Mrs. Travis was in bed. His interest in family activities dropped off and he now often talked on his cell phone in the garage.

Mid-October Mr. Travis mentioned that he’d gone over his company expense account daily allowances and he needed $300.00 by tomorrow. Mrs. Travis felt a flutter, but having no proof that he was betting again, she decided a good wife would trust her husband and said nothing.

When he came up with a second reason for taking out a cash advance on the credit card, Mrs. Travis asked him if he was back with the bookie. He answered with a question,”What kind of a person are you?” And Mrs. Travis went blind and crossed her fingers.

Apparently crossing your fingers isn’t the same as having the courage to talk about reality, as being a “self”. By November Mr. Travis was openly hostile most of the time. His weekends were spent watching the scores ticker on ESPN.

Sometimes though he was happy and making plans for family vacations in the summer. Disneyworld and Yellowstone he promised the kids.

By December, Mr. Travis had decided that his wife was a controlling nag. He couldn’t believe he hadn’t noticed how she tried to run his life. The women at his office treated him nicely. His evening drinking picked up and he started early on weekends.

When Mrs. Travis tried to use her credit card on Christmas presents she learned that both cards were consideralby over the limit.

The fight that night ended with Mr. Travis saying he wanted a separation, and leaving the house. This terrified Mrs. Travis. Her brother-in-law and sister had a “separation” and were now in an ugly divorce.

The next morning, Mrs. Travis apologized and asked what she could do to make things better. Mr. Travis admitted how much he enjoyed betting on sports, that, if fact, that was the only time he felt “alive.” He assured her that he’d come out a winner by the end of the season.

Mr. Travis suggested that Mrs. Travis, instead of acting like his mother, join him in the fun. This would improve their distant marriage. When she refused Mr. Travis yelled, “Okay, then. The bankrupcy in this family will be your fault! I have some sure winners this weekend that will make me more than even.

That weekend, Mrs. Travis called the bookie for Mr. Travis who didn’t want to speak to him because he was so far in debt to him.

When recalling that weekend she said, “I was standing in a phone booth because my husband said because if certain people recognized the home number bad things would happen. I stared out at the street thinking, ‘How did this happen? When did I quit being a person? Quit being myself?’ ”

Next: Episode Three, Stress. What’s Love Got to Do With It?  Don’t despair. There is a happy ending.

 

 

 

 

Stress, So You Think Crashing One Wedding Was Rude?

Posted on by
Reply

Stress, Runaway Pooch Crashes Five Star Wedding !

Dateline: Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Although the Sea of Cortez bears his name, it was not Hernan Cortez, but his navigator, who is credited with discovering Cabo San Lucas in 1537. Cabo San Lucas and Cabo San Jose soon became a busy stopovers for pirates.

What’s the Difference Between…Breaking Out of “Group Think Stress” and Just Being Annoying?  The trick is considering other people without over-considering them. 

Is the guy who insists on mowing the lawn in his birthday suit a free thinker or an unpleasant surprise?  Is the guy who refuses to shut down his cell phone and therefore prevents the flight from taking off…merely side-stepping ‘group think’?

And that woman in the bathing suit and the towel on her head that crashed the black-tie wedding reception? 

Dateline:  Dallas, Texas. Lincoln Center Hilton.

Finishing a swim, I’d taken Shrinker, our ancient, crippled shih tzu down for a stumble in the grass around the big fancy pool at the big fancy hotel hoping for a productive result.  I didn’t need a leash as Shrinker was as slow as certain relatives are reaching for their wallets.  Since her stroke, she’ambled sort of sideways making about a yard a minute. The pool grass part hadn’t been totally successful, but as we had group dinner plans, I was in a bit of a rush to get dressed. I carried the old sweetie to the bank of elevators in the center of the lobby and set her down to punch the button.  The left side of the main hall opened into a ballroom from which orchestra music and wonderful food smells wafted. At the far side of the ballroom the bride and groom were behind a magnificent candle laden table making a toast.

Which is when it happened.  When the formerly snail-paced Shrinker Dog caught the smell of sizzling steak. She shot from my between my ankles and into the ballroom going all-out, knowing when I caught up with her, all hope of garnering steak was gone.

What did I do?  What could I do?  I centered my flip-flops, re-wrapped the too-large towel around my dripping head, and flung my bathing-suited self into the party. Stroke or no stroke, sweet babe was all woman when it came to food. She rocketed in her side-ways gait across the dance floor scattering guests. Then she dove under the covered white table leaving me stupidity flopping around trying to find her. Sophisticated people glared, candles were grabbed, I heard lenses come off video cameras.  I pretended I was having an instant onset of a serious mental disorder characterized by babbling.  I kept my head down as I flushed out the Shrinker dog who bounded away and tacked her way back across the dance floor…leaving little presents, quickly picked up by men in tuxedos. Thus, a couple of good things came out of the event.  My trip down to the grass was successful after all and, having kept my head down, I’d managed to stay anonymous.

Waiting for the elevator when we returned with friends around midnight, a well-dressed man and woman sidled up. At first the man looked confused.  Then not so much.  “I know you!” he said, pointing a knowing and sophisticated finger.  “You’re the woman with the dog!”

The trick is considering other people without over-considering them.  The husband alerting his new bride not to use her fingers on her cake…could have been concerned about bothering the other guests could possibly, maybe, sort of been showing a bit of over-concern for the guests. Of course, marriage means “I love-you-your-perfect-except-for-these-few-hundred-little-things-you-must-change-if-I-am-to-be-kept-comfortable.”  And, I must not be uncomfortable, ever. That’s the deal.

Say, what? What goes both ways?