powerful outlook

This is Dusty, fourth in a line of “special needs” pets. There was the calico (goofed up at a chromosomal level). There was the diabetic tabby and the dysplased German Shepherd. Then Dusty with her irregular bladder. It seems the tissue is malformed, making her prone to infections … unless she gets daily medicine on her food. For some reason every winter she stops eating and so stops getting her medicine. We put her in her room with everything she needs and hope she eats. Today she only ate while I combed her.

“Oh … nobody wants to eat alone,” I said picking up the comb and netting a jellyfish. I do not like eating alone. It feels so mechanical, like stopping at the gas pump.

When the karate schedule makes family meals unrealistic for us the kids eat together before workouts. Hubby and I eat together after. Even when we're not all together, nobody eats alone.

When we were in high school my brothers and I all worked, played sports, had social lives. If I remember right, Mom had a calendar where we put our work schedules and other “appointments.” I don’t remember how she used to get us all there, but quite regularly there was “Family Function Night.” This meant the five of us, no one else, and an easy place such as Chili’s. When Mom was really having a good week Family Function meant the three of us going to church with her and Dad, then having brunch at the Village Inn. There wasn’t always a lot of conversation (especially on Sunday morning!), but there was some. We all knew Family Function Night was untouchable … so did our friends. As we grew older it wasn’t unheard of for a friend’s car to be outside the house when we got back from dinner.

“Be home on time, OK?” one parent would say.

“K,” the highly conversive teen would reply, unmuffling the Hair Metal blasting inside the friend’s car. The car would pull away, usually with the friend waving to my parents and whichever one of us was leaving, you know, ignoring them. But we had come together for a family meal. No messy kitchen. No worrying about who would like the food. Just some laughs, a little info on what was going on with each other and a safe zone that fostered the ability to talk to my brothers or my parents when something truly important was going on. It’s kind of like the way it’s harder to talk to a spouse about work than it is to talk to a co-worker. The co-worker has all the background info. Maybe you gave it to them over lunch one day. Interesting.

How many regular meals do you have with a particular co-worker? You might eat lunch with the same person every day. Now think about how many regular meals you have with the people who share your home with you. Hmmm. It’s just a matter of planning, really. You might e-mail a colleague to set a certain day aside. Your Outlook calendar might pop open today and say “Lunch with Bob.”

So, why not put Family Function Night on there? Because, really, who likes eating alone?