Healthcanc

Would you believe it? A shoe store capitalizing on the false nuclear alarm in Hawaii. Sorry, Famous. Bad taste. You   may know that I have a little annihilation anxiety, most of us do. But I’m still conscious of it, having had it most of my life. For years, as a little kid, then well into my adulthood, I had a recurring dream about home invaders, two big men climbing through my bedroom window or banging down the front door of our home. I could see them through the little triangular windows of the front door, used all my might to keep them from getting in. I'd wake up in a sweat.  The dreams persisted once every month or so, until, as a middle-aged woman, as a responsible mother, they just faded away. There were too many other things to worry about, like the safety of the family, my children. That, or the dreams stopped with the empowerment of Master Han, a Tai Quan Do instructor. I was too uncoordinated to do Tai Quan Do so he just gave me a couple of private lessons. Master ...

I feel like there's so much to say; like we haven't talked in ages.  (1) Parenting My six-year-old granddaughter draws a stick figure picture of herself running away from my son. In the picture he's counting down: Five, four, three, two, one. Bedtime . He posts that he has no recollection of doing this, counting down. I remember it. He and his brother are six, their sister, four. Me: Better be in bed at the count of one. There's a thrill to this intervention, despite the total lack of consequences. The magic of counting down to bedtime is that it is a competition. Can I beat the parent? Can I make it to bed before he says, One ? And a kid needs a good reason to run, not walk to bed, because running is fun and walking is not, and it is much more fun jumping into a bed, feeling the fluffy pillows and covers receive you. Probably the best reason for the countdown, however, at least from the kid's perspective, and maybe my son knows it, maybe he doesn't, is that ...

Love and Mercy We’re in Miami, FD has a cardiology conference.  Miami Beach is nice but it's  not  Bermuda, Jamaica, gee I wanna take ya’ to Key Largo, Montego, honey why don't we go.  .   .  to the Kokomo .  It gets in my head (you're it) and wanting to know where exactly Kokomo might be, a little research yields the following.   According to the band, the inspiration for the song (is) a pool-side bar at a hotel in Islamorada, one of the little island towns in the Florida Keys .   So we’re not that far away.  We saw the Brian Wilson- Beach Boys movie last week, Love and Mercy . If you haven't seen it, there will be spoilers. But most of today's story is from YouTube interviews and Rolling Stone . There was a time when a certain brand of music summoned up barefoot on the beach, surfing, fast cars, and a paycheck lost to buying records at K-Mart; 45's or the long-playing 33’s. Some of us bought albums by the Beatles , but there was ...

Translate that, Nittel Nacht, it would be . . .  well, I don't know.  I know that Kristallnacht is the night that the Nazi's broke every Jewish storefront in Germany.   But on Nittelnacht  Jews play cards and watch Elf .  Or maybe Titanic . Or Meet Me in St.Louis .  The rabbis forbid learning Torah on Christmas Eve. Except to learn about why it is forbidden to learn Torah on Christmas Eve. Learning is what observant Jews do, or wish they did, most nights, most days, in their discretionary time. It is one of those pastimes that keeps on giving. So you would think that learning is definitely something Jews should do on Xmas eve. But no. We'll get to the reasons. Last night FD finishes the last slice of pizza, 47th Street (New York) pizza , but   made in Iowa, sold in Chicago. He asks me if I want to join him, walk over to the synagogue to hear a shiur ( she-your , Hebrew for class ) about the origins of nittel nacht . Nittel Nacht 47th St P...

Should I sue the hotel? Not saying there's anything new, here. But is is a practical application, something to keep in mind when someone is busy blaming you for God knows what.  When we think back later, we say, What a silly argument! This morning FD left without his keys. He returned right away and knocked on the door. It took me awhile to open up and he was angry-- at me -- for taking so long, making him late. The best possible spin on this is to assume that sharing emotions is a good thing, better out than in. Permission to let off steam is what healthy couples do. So why does it feel so bad? A few months ago, after stubbing my toe on the metal frame of a hotel bed, I cried out. Maybe I even cursed the hotel. It hurt a lot, warranted expletives, facial grimaces. The object of the anger, unclear. A person can't exactly rant at a bed frame, it is inanimate, doesn't care. Hotel management might care, but it is inconvenient to go to the front desk, ask for the manager, compl...