Delayed Start: A 1960s July Fourth

July 4, 2016 • By

Colorado schools let out mid June. Fourth of July signaled summer was in full swing. We celebrated at each other’s throats.

Colorado and american flag

Waking up at the crack of dawn was habit for those of us on the summer swim team.

On this holiday we were awake, with no place to go. Dad doubled the chore list to promote a relaxing day, just he and Mom plus five children. My parents were hopeful idealists on holidays.

Already bored we wandered to the kitchen. Crisp sunshine cast a glow on lemon yellow walls. Four or five bangs of the screen door later, the entire herd of cats was accounted for. Friskies crunched, water lapped, they retreated to sleep spots. Their schedule uninterrupted, ours was missing.

Lethargic with free time, we moped. Maybe someone would whip up a batch of Bisquick pancakes topped with sweet and tacky Log Cabin syrup. Not a chance.

One by one the boxes of cereal tipped off the refrigerator and cluttered the table; all but Dad’s Shredded Wheat. That stuff was meant for horses.


Psychological Self-Evaluation

March 10, 2016 • By

March 10, 2016

Day 30. I’ve survived a month without coffee, sweets of any flavor, and not one drop of alcohol.

That fact alone should give me confidence to dig in for the remaining willpower required.   Instead I am riddled with doubt. It occurred to me last week I may have an identifiable issue where caffeine is concerned.raw coffee beans

My cure for doubt- information. Today I walked to the college library in search of what professionals might consider a “problem” with caffeine consumption. News reports are conflicting. One study suggests coffee is good for you; another reports it’s bad. The inconsistencies should leave me hovering in the everything-in-moderation zone. But I’ve been told flat out I’m a person driven to extremes. My understanding of moderation may be a bit murky.

Today’s objective- a psychological self-evaluation using The Diagnostic and Statistical Manual-V.  Still shelved behind the main desk for reserved use only, I knew it would yield facts needed to put my fluttering mind at ease.


Week Three: I Started Talking Again, To God

February 29, 2016 • By

I talk to myself a lot. Like you, right? These days more than ever. Why? Could be my imagination, but I think my friends have stopped talking to me.

I arrived at work this morning and walked into the mail room (where the coffee pot sits). Keeping with decades of tradition, my pre nine o’clock class friends had gathered.

clock at eight fiftyHearing me step inside, the room went silent. It was as if they’d been electrocuted. Eyebrows lifted, they stared. I struggled to reach my mailbox and wondered had I shrunk another inch.

I left wearing a flat grin and reminded myself how much easier it is to smile after eating a snickers bar. I echoed down the hall to my office wishing I had worn shoes with rubber soles. Safe at my desk I wondered what had been said about me over communal java back there. Time for class. I silenced my phone and noticed a text alert. It was Deb.There was my answer.