What Are Your Favorite Food Moments on an Ordinary Day?
What do you eat on an ordinary day? Maybe I’ll find that mine are not quirks at all and that everyone drinks a pint of tea in a Pyrex measuring cup before bed.
What do you eat on an ordinary day? Maybe I’ll find that mine are not quirks at all and that everyone drinks a pint of tea in a Pyrex measuring cup before bed.
This of course led me to one of my common ruminations: What would be the cutoff for retrieving a precious item from a public toilet?
Antidote to Worry: Frozen Banana and Melted Chocolate
How do I measure my dog’s quality of life? A dog whisperer on TV whispered a guideline for when to euthanize your dog: when bad days outnumber good days.
With bathing suit season approaching, everyone seems to be more calorie conscious. Lettuce wraps are one of my favorite snacks.
Why do religious people worry? All they have to do is pray. Whenever I’m worried, I have to pay. My therapist is my Lord. The missing laptop was not . . .
I can’t accept Tom Cruise and Scientology any more than I can accept the Ku Klux Klan. Okay, a dot or more more.
What am I to do about too many advisors? I began preparing for the 2-minute pitch of my memoir 60 days in advance, an average of 1 day for every 3 seconds.
Given my name dyslexia, every time I go outside, I have to rehearse all four names beforehand in case I run into any of them.
In light of the Boston tragedy, how can I publish my trifle of a post, which—on a day when we felt safer and less heart-heavy—might make some readers smile?
In 1980, while living in China, I insisted on speaking Mandarin when planning a dinner for Alan Dershowitz and other Harvard professors. Oops.
As easy dinners go, this is the easiest. All you need is 4 ingredients.
Is it enough just to entertain? Or do I need to make a point, share a reflection?
Now I have set myself up for failure in two ways:
All this fed into my recurring imaginings of how to celebrate my death, and whether to do so after or before it occurs . . .
Back to another beau, who could say words backwards and so can I, except someone once stumped me in the Say This Backwards game with “onomatopoeia.”
A Washington Story: What if he’s a terrorist? He’ll know where I live. Better to remain inconspicuous.
Does this rah rah for winter months raise questions about my worrywart creds? Should I worry that my upbeat tendencies will discred my worrywart brand?
Valentine sex will be an issue for many couples. This manufactured day of romance offers men and women an opportunity to examine their sexual relationship.
What makes for a successful marriage? What can be done about marital problems? My two previous posts highlighted Betsy’s story and Harry’s story; below is Victoria’s story. Victoria is 58 years old and a retired history professor living in Chicago: The biggest challenge I faced in my marriage was when my …
Yesterday we heard from Victoria about her recipe for a successful marriage and avoiding marital problems. Today, a man shares how to be happily married.
Most daunting of all, how to sign my book for close friends? A writer ought to be clever, even on short notice.
I never prayed for Steve to win the election, only to keep our sanity intact.
I can’t remember why I was only fine, rather than the usual great, but this makes an important point:
“Susan Orlins is America’s funniest neurotic since Woody Allen. Just be careful you don’t crack a rib reading her memoir, Confessions of a Worrywart.”
For a worrywart, it is challenging to come up with just one resolution when there are so many choices. So I have selected several from my 2012 grab bag to inspire you to worry less and indulge more in 2013.
But why isn’t anyone talking about campaign finance reform?
I didn’t see why that was so funny, until they caught their breath and told me . . .
I am a fan of Amtrak’s quiet car, yet I harbor love-hate emotions toward the sub-culture of those who journey in this vessel of alleged silence.
Why do we type
The addressee’s address
Above the salutation?
Does he or she
Need this information?
I got into our new box of SOS and shredded the pads and discovered how good the soap tasted. When Mommy came in and shrieked and I ran away. She scolded me. I pretended to be ashamed.