My husband, Bob, gets the brunt of my worry storms. Yet he still loves me.
"You hungry?" I said.
"Not really."
"What's wrong?" I grabbed the thermometer from my key chain.
"Nothing. Will you please stop being you for let's say, 4 minutes a day?"
"Well, sue me for caring."
"I'm sorry. Let's eat. Fried food sound good?"
"Not if it's fried in canola oil."
He sighed. "What's wrong with canola oil?"
"A canola is a Canadian ola that's Spanish for tomato, which is in the deadly nightshade family. And deadly nightshade is poisonous. No canolas!"
"Canola oil is made from seeds of the field mustard plant."
"Oh."
We drove to a vegetable stand. "Bob, I'm worried you have a stomach ache."
"I don't. I do, however, have one huge pain in the neck."
Many years ago Leo Buscaglia wrote, "Worry never robs tomorrow of its sorrow, it only saps today of its joy."
Yesterday I called the billing department at a huge hospital and spoke with a gal named Dianne. She could tell I was freaking out about my bill.
She ever-so-gently said, "You can choose to worry yourself sick about problems or not. That same problem is still going to be there either way."
Last month, we received an audit notice from the IRS incorrectly stating we owed $8000. Bob persevered through phone calls with 45-minute wait times, e-mails, faxes, a zillion trips to the bank, as well as certified letters. And he won.
He never worried about the audit, the $8000 we don't have, the paperwork, or the ludicrous process of reaching a human being, so to speak, at the IRS.
"How do you not worry, Bob?"
"In the long run, most problems won't matter. Plus I always say, 'Wait to worry.' If I didn't win with the IRS, I would have worried then."
What he does worry about is me. My walking problem makes me fragile. Frankly, like most of us, Bob is having an overall harder time as we get older.
"I worry about the future," he said tearfully. "It's almost too sad to think about."
I told him, "It's only too sad because it's so beautiful." I touched his arm. "Don't miss me while I'm here."
He was still tearful.
"Sweets," I said, "thinking about losing our dog didn't make it any better when she died. It was just as painful. Look at this day. Here we are, so lucky to live near the seashore in our tiny, cozy home. Don't miss today by worrying about something inevitable that you can't control."
I took his hand and led him to the bedroom where we spent an entire hour doing what people in love do who are spending a glorious day together near a seaside town. Googling "fried seafood." Then we went to a local shanty and gorged ourselves on fried shrimp.
Made with canola oil.
-----------------------
Award-winning nationally syndicated columnist, Saralee Perel, welcomes e-mails at sperel@saraleeperel.com or via her website:www.saraleeperel.com ( http://www.saraleeperel.com/). Her newest book is "Cracked Nuts & Sentimental Journeys: Stories From a Life Out of Balance."
"I love you and Bob. Your wisdom and humor in your book provides guidance and encouragement to thousands of people." ~ Mike Atkinson, Owner, Mikey's Funnies. You can read about her book and/or order it from her website or through Amazon.com.
Copyright 2013 Saralee Perel. Permission is granted to send this to others, with attribution, but not for commercial purposes.
No comments:
Post a Comment