A BIT OF HUMOR

DOES WORRYING EVER HELP?
By Saralee Perel

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. 

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Award-winning nationally syndicated columnist, Saralee Perel, welcomes e-mails 
at sperel@saraleeperel.com or via her website: 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.

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If you keep saying things are going to be bad, you have a good chance of being a 
prophet.

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