Tag Archives: the self-defined life

Resorters Gone Wild! Stress in Paradise, Part 3.

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Stress in Paradise, Part 3, Resorters Gone Wild!

Dateline: Squid Row, Cabo San Lucas. This bar is an excellent place for someone on the run to spend the afternoon. You might keep this in mind. You never know.

In order to appreciate the significance the Chaise Lounge Wars occupies in history, you must first labor through the Fourteen Dollar Martini Murder and Chaise Lounge Wars, Stress in Paradise Episode Two.

The Stress of the Sneaky.

Okay. Now you are on board to just what the heck is going on here at the fabulous Los Cabos Resort. The demand for the best chaises, the ‘high end’ chaises, is now officially out of control. Guests are getting up earlier and earlier, thus, retiring earlier. The bars are losing money.  Every morning there was a new flyer from Guest Services detailing the Chaise Lounge Rules. (No kidding.) For example, a personal article must be left in view on each lounge currently being held (just in case I ever get out of the water or my room and want this chair and only this chair which has been empty since five this morning) as in use. After four hours, any unattended chaise could be re-conquered. These details only excited the troops.

The types of ‘personal items’ left on chaise began to change. The usual Fortune Magazines and IPads ‘holding items’ were replaced with Soldier of Fortune Magazinesand steak knives. One particularly menacing place holder was a ten inch blade with what I can only pray was strawberry jelly smeared halfway up.

Then children were forced into servitude while their parents played golf. Golfing couples faced a unique disadvantage in the war. Morning tee times meant “No special chairs for you!” Thus, children were boosted out of bed before dawn and sent to the ocean overlook where they could both finish sleeping and hold the chairs. After a couple of days of this maneuver, the kids were getting crabby. Money lost by the resort because the bars emptied early was now made up by record-setting daytime booze sales.

The children rebelled and organized an anti-child labor parade around the main pool. Parents, deeply embarrassed by their crass chaise lounge power-grabbing, immediately started throwing bribes around to the Hilton staff. Bartenders and housekeeping staff came in a couple hours early to hold chaises for their employers. As there was a limited pool available, bidding wars ensued. Soon the money to be made sitting on a lounge chair while your boss played golf, was more than Hilton’s salary.

Employees jumped ship. Bidding wars ensued. Oh, and I’m splurging on crab for supper using the extra money I made distributing magazines on chaises this morning.

Stress Holiday Encore: Make Money Off Your Body Scans!

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ENCORE POST:

Dateline:  (Encore) Willie’s Place, Carl’s Corner, Texas. Whole bunch of people sang here.

Setup:  I’m in hiding.  Ever since I offered my Body Scan for public consumption…the reporters, the cameras…Geraldo…

Remember John Lennon’s line, “Life is what happens when you’re making other plans?”

What a chunk of truth.  There I was, in a pretty normal life, planning more normal life….when my world was turned upside down.  You guessed it.  My Body Scan distribution company …BS,Inc… has been successful beyond my wildest dreams.

Note: What do financial success and fame have to do with the goal of this program?  Which, in case you’ve forgotten, is for each of us professed emotional weenies…to muddle toward…just a wee bit toward…improved emotional functioning. Or, simply…to not have every second of every minute of every hour of every day….decided by our emotions.  To do more in our lives than run around wasting time, spending money, falling for fad diets, worrying what other people think…comparing ourselves, our kids, our house, our car, our education, our butt size, our creative talents….

Thus, the story of my Body Scan business (BS. Inc.), is but one example of the seduction of the Pseudo Self (see previous on doughnuts and doughnut holes), one more attempt to manage anxiety by propping up my image to the world.  If you’d rather go the consumer route, the commercials during one half hour (okay, an hour and a half) of Prison Wives last night, told me a Dodge Ram means I’m confident, staying at a Holiday Inn means I can “be myself”, buying your wife diamonds or an expensive car shows you really think she’s grand… (Using money from the family budget…but, hey, it’s the thought.  The thought in this case is, “See, I love you so much I didn’t consider your input when spending this huge amount of money…”)

One way to break the hold “image making” has on us is to laugh at ourselves.  Again, if you don’t believe you have any reason to laugh because you are completley emotinally put together….well, Dr. Laura can still be found on the radio.

Back to the real BS, Inc. and whining about the demands of success.  Those of you…wiser in the world than I…who lacks even one cell of entrepreneurial expertise…probably spotted my first error in announcing my Body Scan availability. Right. Christmas.  Biggest shopping season of the year.  How could I foretell the thousands rush orders?  So many years of training in human behavior.  And, yet I hadn’t predicted the clamor when people recognized my Body Scan products as the perfect present for relatives, officemates, and military serving overseas.

And as is true with lottery winners, I found myself battling an onslaught of business opportunities.

First came the television cable channels in a bidding war for my reality show.  “Body Scans Around the World” which had great promise, but is now on hold due to artistic differences…The producer is insisting on a variety of what she calls “outfits” for the various airport venues…while I think to upgrade from black jeans and polo shirts would be a tragic error.

Next, of course, here came Hollywood.  Could I write a screenplay?  Who did I think should play me in the film?  Which ended up in another artistic dispute.  I know they think Julia Roberts is perfect, and, probably that’s true if you just go for face and body.  But, we’re talking scrutiny by Homeland Security and, right away, it’s going to be glaringly obvious that I am not as tall as Julia Roberts.  My suggestion was Heather Locklear.  The production will have to wait until some sort of Julia Roberts-Heather Locklear compromise actress can be found.

Where Hollywood goes, can Heff be far behind?  Yes, next came the plea for my Body Scan Playboy centerfold which is an obvious choice when you think about it. That offer is also on hold as I am gripped trying to decide if I can bear to have my family see my BS exposed.

To make some sense of my BS bonanza, I’ve decided the best way to go is through selling franchises.  I simply cannot keep up with the BS demand around the world on my own.  If you see the potential in your section of the world, send me your credit card number.  Franchise are, of course, FREE…just pay shipping and handling, and, if you call in the next 24 hours, you can try BS RISK FREE…all you have to do is check the box where you are a member of BS International and will have fifteen dollars deducted from your credit card account for as long as we both shall live. 

And, you know how they say…. “The sky’s the limit!”

Well, that’s not true for BS, Inc.  I’ve received a down payment and a pint of blood from a man in Quartzite, Arizona, who, thinking out of the box…well outside the trailer….He recognized my Body Scan as proof of alien inhabitation of Earth.  The silvery hue. Of course!  He wants my BS to make a personal appearance at his grand opening, but I’m afraid coverage in Quartzite will leave me over-exposed.

Body Scan Clearance Event! End Holiday Stress.

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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 añana….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

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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, Love, and Las Vegas, Episode Three

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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.

 

 

 

 

On a High, Part Two of Love, Money, and Stress

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Dateline: Main Location, Austin, Texas. Suzi and Sammie Davis, Jr. at the ready.
To accurately keep up with these wild hearts in Vegas, read Episode One first.

Set-up. Fusion…When one person is so merged with another person that he or she cannot make decisions or moves if these moves or decisions might their partner anxious. Usually, along with experiencing great anxiety when the other is displeased, we are afraid that if we continue in our path the relationship will change, or fall apart completely.

Remember, no judgment as we return to Mr. and Mrs.Travis in Las Vegas. When we slip into being judgmental, we see the other’s anxious behavior as unusual and foreign. This keeps us from exploring our own inability to tolerate anxiety or our inability to approach an anxious other person without sliding into a one-up or over-helping stance. Which accelerates anxiety in the other which boost anxiety in you and here we go.

…Mr. Travis, while at a convention in Las Vegas made and won two sports bets. He felt, alive and vibrant, the way he had felt when he first fell in love. Wow. Who wouldn’t like that?

Mr. Travis talked a lot about Vegas and complained less and worried less about his children and his wife. He wanted to return to Las Vegas desperately as the feeling began to fade. A trip not paid for on an expense account was out of the question. Then, in the last month of the football season, a friend turned him on to a bookie.

The first several weeks were fun for the whole family. Mr. Travis was betting five dollars a game and rarely lost much, twenty-five dollars on a bad day. As the game ended on Superbowl Sunday, Mr. Travis asked to speak with Mrs. Travis alone. They went for a drive. Mr. Travis confessed he’d been betting twenty-five and fifty dollars a game and he was down $1700.00. which he had two days to get together. Instant cash was pretty tough for the teacher’s salary, five person family. By taking the maximun cash from both of their low limit credit cards the bookie was paid.

Mrs. Travis was angry and hurt but kept her emotions to herself because if she expressed displeasure or pointed out lies, Mr. Travis shouted and asked what kind of a person was she? If she loved him, she should realize that he was already hurting and what he needed was comfort, not criticism.

Besides, Mr. Travis said losing the money was actually a good thing because he’d learned his lesson and was through gambling gambling forever. Mrs. Travis was relieved hear the news.

When statements came in for December on both credit cards, Mrs. Travis noticed several cash payouts during the last month. The couple, as far as she knew, had never taken a cash payout with a credit card since the interest rate is enormous. Hurt and angry again, Mrs. Travis decided to pretend she hadn’t noticed the cash withdrawals. After all, Mr. Travis’s gambling was in the past and he was making an effort in the family.

Keep the peace. That’s a wife and mother’s job. No matter what. And, afterall, things were going so well. It takes two…

Next: Episode Three, Swan Dive Off the Ledge.

 

Anxiety, the Dented Cell Phone and the “Stolen Luggage Incident”

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Dateline: Albuquerque, New Mexico

Stress Management Update

Note: If you are the person who stole my luggage at the Avis rental counter while I ran through the rain to get my car…pox be upon you.

If any of you ever see a smug person with three twelve-cell computer batteries ($200 each), a Samsung tablet power cord and he or she doesn’t seem to own such a device, seven pair of black Olga underwear, a power cord for a Dell Studio for which he or she does not appear to have the matching computer or, say, seven tiny packets of vitamins and fish oil —Please deliver the cursed pox for me.

A message from the first session of the Fall Series on Bowen Family Systems Theory was:“It’s not what happens to you, it’s what happens after‘what happens’.”  Thus, your level of functioning can be determined by noting how well you manage anxiety. In other words, everyone looks good when things are rocking along planned.

And I like to think I would have handled the stolen luggage incident a bit better if the entire communication world was not at war against me. Yes, Time Warner Cable home and office phones still are not working. And, since we live in the hills, cell phone service is sketchy. Put those together and I was not able to contact my special person who usually is willing to take on some of my anxiety.

I called my insurance company hoping to drop some anxiety there, and I was pretty excited when the nicewoman who answered the phone said, “Sure, your umbrella policy will pay for your loss.”  Nice woman then sweetly explained that this
great policy I had would start paying after a $3000.00 deductable. I know, it’s an insurance company, what did I expect?
How much did my functioning change when presented with this stress?

Let’s just say, on a normal day I would never raise my voice to the police. On a normal day I can figure out how to turn off the interior lights in a rental car. Throwing my phone across the car was a new one for me. (I know, ouch, but I’m being honest here. And the thing died every thirty seconds when i was trying to hear directions to the hotel.)

Now the good news. I’m all better now having replaced all toiletries, ordered new batteries, etc. Surely level of functioning can also be measured by how long it takes to recover from cruelty and injustice random unpleasant acts. (Now, I’m assuming we are starting with a cleared slate and those six hours hammering airline ticket agents at London’s Gatwick Airport are off the table.)

And, while you are on alert for a shifty-eyed person with all sorts of cords and batteries and no devices…I have another thief for you to be on the look out for. A few months ago I was operating out of the San Diego Hilton International Branch Office. It was 9:30 p.m. and I’m lounging in my room. Just across Interstate 8 is my favorite California seafood restaurant, King’s Fish House. I’m weighing my options through my tired brain. I’m craving King’s incredible Shrimp and Crab Louie, but I’m already undressed and tucked in. King’s closes at 10:00 p.m., thus, I don’t have time to waver. I was leaving in the morning, so this was my last shot. I dragged my weary self out of bed, re-dressed, got the car, drove to the restaurant, ordered and waited for the Louie.

I return to my hotel room with my big white bag with King’s Fish House on the outside and my favorite salad inside. Alas, when I reached my door, my key wouldn’t work. I was the last room in the hall, rather out of the way. I set my food down and returned to the front desk for a refreshed key.

When I returned to my door, gone maybe three minutes, someone stole my Louie. Stole my dinner. Who does that?

If you spot someone with a King’s Fish House takeout bag and no shrimp shells, pox on him, too.