My day starts with coffee. I’m too cheap to buy it by the cup from baristas, so I just brew my own Folgers by the pot. I have a cup or two as I settle into work each morning, and another cup — sometimes two — in the early afternoon. That may not be wise for a chronic insomniac like myself, but it’s a lifelong habit that at this point would be quite tough to break.
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D ear Abby: In short, my son is a klutz — to the point that it affects his self-confidence. He’s different from everyone else in the family.
Sooner or later in long-term therapy, most adult patients will drift — or dive — toward their family history. They begin to take a more comprehensive, more honest and accurate inventory of realities they faced as children. The strengths and weaknesses, health and unhealth, justice and injustice of the families in which they were reared. Because all families have some combination of all of those things.
Dear Abby: I adore my son-in-law, “Tom.” He’s a wonderful husband to our daughter. He’s always inviting us to dinner along with his parents and family. We get along with them, but can’t stand how they treat Tom. We have never seen parents treat their children the way they treat him — especially the father. Tom is practically begging for his approval and attention on a daily basis.
Dear Abby: I am a woman in my 30s. Every morning I walk my dog in the park near my house. Each morning I see the same maintenance man in the park and he stares at me in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I have tried saying “Good morning,” but he doesn’t reply and just continues to stare.
The first picnickers appeared on the streets of Aberdeen, Hoquiam and Cosmopolis shortly after seven, an odd sight on a Thursday morning in 1914. Clutching picnic baskets, groups headed toward the railroad station in anticipation of the second annual Merchant’s Picnic at Moclips. It was to be a day filled with sports and games, clam digging and dancing, and a free barbecue with the attendees requested only to bring knife, fork, spoon and cup with them.
Most natural disasters in the United States, don’t hit in the summertime. Yes, folks do need to keep their eyes open for forest fires in some places and tornadoes in others.
Anyone who peruses this little column with any degree of regularity has probably figured out by now that I don’t like bad guys. In fact, I don’t like them a LOT!
D ear Abby: I am an 18-year-old high school senior who is scared about what’s going to happen after graduation. For the past three years I have known exactly where I’ll be and what I will be doing in the general sense. Now that I have one more year to go, I’m worried that I won’t know what to do or how to do it when I graduate. I have talked to counselors and my dad, but they all say the same thing. Do you have any advice?
Dear Abby: When my friend “Fran” and I get together with our kids, they often play games on her cellphone until the battery dies. If she tries to take the phone from her 6-year-old to make a call or recharge the phone, he starts yelling at her, pushes her, pulls her skirt and hits her. Her reaction is to hug him and start praying for the devil to get out of his body in Jesus’ name as he continues to hit her. While I respect Fran’s religion, I’m appalled at his violent behavior, concerned that he will grow up thinking it’s OK to hit people, and I think this should be handled differently. What do you think? Should I say something? And if so, what can I say so as not to hurt her feelings?
Dear Abby: Is it acceptable to bring a teacup-sized dog to a wedding? The excuse was, “Well, the wedding was at the beach.” The pre-dinner and dancing were inside a high-end resort on the beach. The dog was taken inside these establishments.
Dear Abby: My granddaughter “Cindy,” age 2, was being watched by her mommy’s ex-sister-in-law and her sons. Cindy went to her mommy and said, “Bubby hurt me.” Bubby is what she calls her 10-year-old cousin. Her mother called the police. A policeman spoke to her and said there wasn’t enough evidence. Now my granddaughter is scared of men.
Maybe old beachers should stay out of the sun; it addles their brains. Thankfully, a reader corrected a reference in a previous column that referred to foxglove as digitalis. That’s what comes of correcting a long sentence to clarify it and really messing up the correct information.
Dear Readers: On April 11, I printed a letter from “Wondering in Washington,” a man asking why young men in general today have the attitude that “any money I earn is mine” in a marriage or live-in situation. He said when he married, he and his wife considered what they earned to be “theirs” — not his or hers. When I asked my “younger readers” to chime in, I was inundated. Some excerpts:
I tune into the World Cup final just as Germany and Argentina head to “extra time,” deadlocked in an epic, scoreless tie. My son, Joseph The Football Player, says, “I didn’t think you liked soccer, Papa.”