I have been in many places, but I’ve never been in Cahoots. Apparently, you can’t go alone. You have to be in Cahoots with someone.
I’ve also never been in Cognito. I hear no one recognizes you there.
I have, however, been in Sane. They don’t have an airport; you have to be driven there. I have made several trips there, thanks to my friends, family and work. I live close so it’s a short drive. Continue reading
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Ah, the joys of (mis)communication! Consider, for example, these real-life chart notes written about hospital patients in the U.K.: Continue reading
It’s not easy hearing your name and [insert dread diagnosis here]. I know this only too well after having to find the funny in my own journey through cancer. Cancer is, however, most often a diagnosis that you fight to a defined end. What’s it like to find the funny in a chronic condition?
I have a number of friends who are battling MS, one of whom, Amy Gurowitz, shared a link on Facebook the other day to Jim Sweeney’s online empire of improv humor and chronic disease. Jim’s MS journey started with vision problems in 1985, he was officially diagnosed in 1990, and has been dealing with the disease – finding the funny most of the time – ever since. Continue reading
Today, I’m happy to be sharing a guest post I think you’ll like a lot. It’s from Judith Westerfield, a delightful, art supply-toting, pacemaker-wearing, dog-loving psychotherapist.
In this post, Judy Judith, as she’s known, offers us the Cliff Notes version of this unique training led by our mothers – the U of Mom.
1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE.
“If you’re going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning.”
2. My mother taught me RELIGION.
“You better pray that will come out of the carpet.” Continue reading
Bacon has been called the “gateway drug” that can entice mostly-vegetarians like me over to the dark side of meat-eating. But can there be anything good at all about eating bacon? This useful flowchart will help you decide.
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Q: Are you a bacon lover?
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by Carolyn Thomas ♥ @HeartSisters
When I was a little girl growing up in a rabidly catholic family of seven, my mother had a standard response to anything bad that happened to her children (like even just stubbing a toe on the coffee table leg as we skipped across the living room floor):
“See? God punishes bad children!”
Under her tutelage, my sibs and I learned a couple of important life lessons:
1. that we were basically bad children (this fits right in with the catholic church’s doctrine of original sin, so likely made perfect sense to us at the time), and
2. that God must be very, very busy keeping track of every opportunity to personally administer the punishment that we so richly deserved.
(This worldview, incidentally, may also help explain why the Globe and Mail’s Lorne Rubenstein once described golfer Tiger Woods as “discombobulated” and “pathetic”. If you’re wondering why poor Tiger’s golf did a nosedive after the scandal, just ask my mother . . . )
But I digress. When children like us grow up and get diagnosed with, oh, let’s say, heart disease, it’s proof positive that we’re just getting what we had coming. Continue reading
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