“I can’t help it!” protested mother-of-the-bride-to-be Jan Dunlap. “Once my daughter gets married next week, that’s it! I’m not spending another dime!”

...more...]]> Chaska, MN (DWI) – Just as the American economy is poised to make a recovery from the past few years’ recession, new indicators released today predict another downturn is in the near future.

“I can’t help it!” protested mother-of-the-bride-to-be Jan Dunlap. “Once my daughter gets married next week, that’s it! I’m not spending another dime!”

Economic experts credit the nation’s recent months’ financial improvement to the Dunlap family’s spending on their daughter’s upcoming wedding. Citing massive influxes of money to a wide segment of vendors in the marketplace, Dr. Shome Damonie, a little known authority on investment and washing machine repair, claimed that the family’s expenses have provided employment for thousands of workers.

“We’re talking about wide-spread economic incentive here,” Dr. Damonie said. “We’ve got new money flowing into shoe stores, dress shops, online printers, florists and independent cake ladies. Thanks to the fact that the Dunlaps have offered their wedding guests a salmon option for the dinner, we’re even seeing a boom in the Pacific Northwest salmon industry. Fish ain’t just for breakfast anymore, ya know.”

Damonie noted that tortilla chips and goat cheese suppliers are also enjoying improved bottom lines as a result of the upcoming nuptials. “What can I say?” a beleaguered Dunlap sighed. “The bride wants goat cheese and tortilla chips for appetizers, so that’s what the bride gets. What am I supposed to do? Tell her she can open a few dozen cans of peanuts?”

Local merchants are not complaining.

“I’m thrilled to have a gig with the wedding,” said area accordianist Polka Pete, formerly known on the local club circuit as lead singer with Hairy Peter and the Prisoner of Skabana. “I thought I’d find work with all the churches that have polka worship services, but since the recession began, even that market has dried up. I told the Dunlaps I could do New Age music and a pretty decent imitation of Yanni for their reception, but I guess it was too edgy for them. I think they got some disc jockey instead.”

When asked to comment, Dunlap said, “I hate that man. But he was cheap and we just needed some pre-service music. I think he’s going to play ‘Edelweiss.’ If he tries to play anything else, I’m going to shoot him.”

The most interesting trickle-down effect of the Dunlap financial splurge is the involvement of Leon McAllister of Leather Repair in St. Paul.

“She had me over to the house and said she wanted it smooth again,” McAllister said.

“It’s not what you think!” Dunlap was quick to add. “Leon is repairing the claw damage that our cat has wreaked on my favorite leather chair. We’re having a lot of family over for an Open House before the wedding, and I wanted the chair to look nice. As a matter of fact, the cat is going to be staying at the kennel during the week of the wedding. I don’t want to risk any scratches in the chair after I’m paying an arm and a leg to get the old scratches repaired.”

“We’re happy to have the cat stay with us,” said the kennel owner. “We charge an arm and a leg, too.”

When informed that all this expenditure will dry up once the bride and groom say “I do” next week, the Chaska economic development council called an emergency meeting.

“We need to assess the impact that the loss of the Dunlap’s wedding spending will have on our community,” said Ross Czhenklnsprnylzmshyski of the council. “It will certainly result in unemployment and a loss of revenue to the city, as well as the state of Minnesota. We may have to consider some kind of bail-out for our local businesses, who have become accustomed to this higher spending level over the last eight months. I think it’s clear that the Dunlaps were totally irresponsible in their lack of concern for the repercussions of their private soiree.”

When asked to comment, Dunlap rolled her eyes. “Wait till his daughter gets married,” she said.

(DWI is the privately owned news-gathering agency Dunlap World Intel.)

There was also another sheet in the packet which my husband never received prior to his other surgeries.

...more...]]> My husband is having knee surgery this week, so his doctor sent him a packet with all the pre-operation instructions he’s supposed to follow to make sure the procedure goes smoothly. Since this will be the fourth surgery he’s had on that particular knee in the last twenty years, we both have a pretty good idea of what the day of surgery will entail. As expected, the packet from the doctor included the usual medical information and hospital admission forms, a list of the prescription drugs my husband currently takes, and reminders about hospital policies.

There was also another sheet in the packet which my husband never received prior to his other surgeries.

“Look at this,” he said, holding the piece of paper out for me and my daughter to read. “It’s a list of the affirmations I’m supposed to be saying to get ready for surgery.”

“What a good idea,” I responded. “They want you to be mentally prepared and able to contribute to your own recovery with a positive attitude. Affirmations are a great way to do that.”

“I don’t believe in affirmations,” he reminded me. “Besides, these aren’t right,” he said, pointing at the list. “It says I should tell myself, ‘I will wake up from anesthesia and feel good.’”

He shook his head. “I’ve had this surgery before. I don’t feel good when I wake up. I wake up and want to throw up all over the nursing station.”

My daughter giggled and I threw her a stern look. “Don’t encourage him,” I reprimanded her. I turned my attention back to my husband.

“That’s why they want you to use affirmations,” I pointed out. “The idea is to retrain your thought pattern at a subconscious level, which will automatically change your response at the physical level. They’ve done scientific studies on this. It works.”

“And here’s another one that’s wrong,” he said, ignoring my reasoning. “’I will wake up and feel only a small measure of mild pain.’ No way. I will wake up and hurt like hell. I’m going to write my own affirmations to use.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, honey. ‘I am going to wake up and be in excruciating pain’ just doesn’t sound very helpful,” I noted.

“Okay, how about this – ‘I will wake up and ring constantly for the nurse for two hours until they give me enough painkillers so I don’t feel a thing’?”

I considered the scenario. If my husband rang for the nurses nonstop for two hours, I had no doubt they would gladly give him enough painkillers to make him unconscious. In fact, at that point, they’d probably be happy to knock him out with or without drugs.

“Maybe that’s not such a good one to try, either.” I decided a different approach was called for. “You know, I never believed in affirmations myself till I started using them a year ago to handle some of my anxiety problems. I think I worry a lot less now.”

My daughter snorted.

“What? You don’t think I worry less? I think I worry less. I don’t spend nearly as much time worrying as I used to. You think I do?”

“Mom,” my daughter observed, “you’re worrying. Besides, I’m with Dad. Affirmations never work.”

I rolled my eyes in frustration. “Well, of course they don’t, if you keep saying ‘affirmations never work.’ You’re basically telling your brain they don’t work, so your brain sends that message right back to you. It’s like a closed loop of information.”

“They don’t work,” she said again. “I have proof.”

“What proof?”

“Zach Carter’s car has not broken down in front of our house, and he hasn’t come to the door for help.”

“That’s your affirmation?”

“Who’s Zach Carter?” my husband asked.

“He’s a young country music star,” I informed my husband. “Our daughter has had a thing for him for the last year.” I turned back to my fifteen-year-old. “So is Zach Carter supposed to come to the door because his car broke down and then fall madly in love with you? That’s your affirmation?” I asked her again.

“Well…yes.”

“But you can’t control other people’s behavior with your affirmations!” I explained. “That’s not the way it works. You can only change your own responses, not other people’s. The idea is to train your brain to send your body the positive messages that will allow you to realize your full potential. Not to make cute country music stars show up on your doorstep.”

My daughter shrugged her shoulders. “That would be a very positive message as far as I’m concerned.”

“Does he have any hit singles?” my husband asked her.

“Not yet,” she told him. “He and his brother still haven’t released their first CD. I’ve been waiting for it to show up in the stores for a year now. I don’t know what their problem is.”

“Maybe he should try some affirmations,” my husband suggested. “Someone in this room thinks they work.”

“Very funny,” I said, deciding that the ‘teachable’ moment about affirmations had slipped right out the front door. Been hounded out, more like it. I switched the subject back to my husband’s impending knee work. “So, what else is in that packet your surgeon sent you?”

For the first time since we’d started the conversation, he seemed genuinely excited.

“One of those charts with the smiley faces that you use to rate your level of pain,” he said. “You know – a big smile for no pain, a straight line mouth for moderate pain, a grimace for uncomfortable pain, and a howling mouth with hair sticking straight up for intense pain. I’m going to put it up in my office at work and use it when I give the people in my department performance appraisals. ‘So, how’s your pain level today in quality assurance? Only an eight? We can do better than that.’”

“You are so sick,” my daughter laughed.

“No, I’m not. I’m just having knee surgery,” he corrected her. “It’s going to hurt so good. Hey! That could be my affirmation.”

Wonderful. My husband is going to teach himself to be a masochist.

Memo to me: It’s time for a new affirmation. ‘I will keep my mouth shut’ sounds just about perfect.

On a recent trip to San Antonio, I got wanded at the airport security checkpoint because I was wearing a long skirt.

“We can’t see the outline of your body,” the lady security person explained to me as she moved the wand around my hips.

“Well, actually, that’s kind of the idea here,” I told her. “I don’t want anyone to see the extra five pounds I put on over the holidays. It’s belly fat, not explosives.”

She was not amused. She did, however, deem me non-threatening enough to be allowed on a commercial airliner.

...more...]]> I may never fly again.

On a recent trip to San Antonio, I got wanded at the airport security checkpoint because I was wearing a long skirt.

“We can’t see the outline of your body,” the lady security person explained to me as she moved the wand around my hips.

“Well, actually, that’s kind of the idea here,” I told her. “I don’t want anyone to see the extra five pounds I put on over the holidays. It’s belly fat, not explosives.”

She was not amused. She did, however, deem me non-threatening enough to be allowed on a commercial jet.

After we returned home from our trip, however, my husband read an article about the possibility that airlines might soon implement full-body scans at security checkpoints to further ensure passenger safety during travel.

THAT is why I may never fly again.

Wanding I can handle, but no way am I getting naked at the airport.

True, you don’t actually strip for the full-body scan. As I understand it, you stand in a machine that sees through your clothes down to your skin. The display that shows up on the monitor is your body – not your insides, like an MRI or X-ray you get at a hospital, but the surface of your skin.

All of your skin.

If that’s not naked, I don’t know what is.

Actually, that was always the thing that creeped me out about Superman – he had X-ray vision. But he wasn’t using it to examine people’s skeletons for medical reasons, either. He used his super vision to see concealed weapons on enemies, or to see through the rubble of a collapsed building to find a missing child, or to see through an outer disguise of an archvillain to see the fancy leotard underneath that had the bad guy’s name or big initial on it. Even when I was a kid, I realized that meant Superman could see through anyone’s clothes down to their skin if he wanted to; it was only because he was a super, honorable, family-rated good guy that Lois Lane didn’t have to worry about him checking out her birthday suit whenever he felt like it. Obviously, Superman was a gentleman – you never saw him saying “Oops – sorry, Lois. I forgot to turn off the X-ray vision when you walked into the room. Keep the thong, though.”

Granted, the part about Superman seeing concealed weapons was always a good thing and it frequently helped him to save the day, so I can see why airport security would want to do that with their full-body scanners. Then they wouldn’t have to wand anyone anymore, because the weapons would show right up on the monitor when you stood in the scanning booth.

Likewise, they wouldn’t have to pat anyone down anymore, either, and I bet lots of security personnel would find that a big relief. I know I would hate that part of the job – the idea that I would have to get up and go to work everyday to pat down zillions of strangers wouldn’t exactly motivate me to bounce out of bed every morning. (“Oh yeah! I can’t wait to pat down people, some of whom may have personal hygiene deficiencies and/or reek of cigarette smoke or booze. I LOVE my job!”) To be honest, I lost my desire to enter others’ personal space when my kids were toddlers and I took them to playgroup, where every child there had a runny nose. It was like being trapped in a scene from the disaster disease movie “Outbreak,” except Dustin Hoffman wasn’t there in a big white decontamination suit. Although I bet even he would have run screaming out of the room if he’d seen as many gooey noses as I have. To this day, I can’t sit in a theater without remembering the scene in that movie where the ebola virus is spreading through the theater every time someone coughs. That’s probably why I rarely go to movie theaters anymore – I’m convinced they’re viral incubators that may lead to premature death.

Don’t even get me started on touching the armrests or seatpads…

Now that I’m thinking about it, I think that the airport security people should take that full-body scanner a step further, and put antibacterial jets in it to sanitize every person who walks through the booth. We all know that everyone picks up colds when they fly, so why not give travelers a benefit in the booth if they’re going to have to be seen naked anyway? At least that way, you could say “Okay, these total strangers are now going to see every inch of my wrinkled/distended/lined/stretch-marked skin, but I get a full-body dose of preventative antibacterial agent out of it, so I won’t contract a deadly disease on my way to visit Aunt Sue in Cleveland. And then I’ll get to do it again, on my way back. Wow! I’m really excited about this trip!”

I don’t think so. Somehow, it just takes the appeal out of flying.

Too bad we all don’t wear those leotards like Superman and his enemies. Then it would be a simple thing for security personnel to spot threats at the airport. All they’d have to do is say “Open your shirt, sir,” or “Lose the blouse, ma’am,” and they could tell from the initial on our underwear leotard if we could be trusted on an airplane. I mean, we already take off our shoes and belts to go through the scanners they currently use. They could just pipe in some appropriate music, like “Shake Your Booty,” or “You Sexy Thing,” and then everyone would feel more comfortable. It could be like going to a bachelor or bachelorette party, except that everybody does the stripping, not just the Chippendales. And since everyone would be pulling their shirts open, no one would feel self-conscious. Geez, for that matter, why not throw in free drinks for travelers to ease any anxiety they might feel while they’re waiting their turn to rip open their shirts? I bet you’d get lots more people flying, and that would be a big boost for the airlines and the national economy, wouldn’t it? Just imagine, thousands of people pulling their shirts off in public just so they could get on a plane.

On second thought, maybe that’s not something I want to imagine.

I think it’s time to look into Amtrack rates…