Welcome to the Funny Farm by Karen Scalf Linamen Page A

weeks strong into a hearty binge.
    Say it ain’t so.
    You know, starting a diet is one thing. Starting it for the eighty-seventh time gets a little tedious.
    Anyway, I was thinking about all this while driving down the freeway when suddenly I got the strong urge to take charge of my life and climb back on the rabbit food wagon, forsaking greasy pleasures for celery and salads. I almost chucked my cheeseburger out the window until I realized that the only thing worse than starting a diet for the eighty-seventh time would be starting a diet for the eighty-seventh time AND having to pay a $200 littering fine to boot.
    A few minutes later I walked into Kaitlyn’s school office carrying two sacks. I dropped one sack on Mrs. Crumpton’s desk and waved the other. “Does anyone want a burger and fries?”
    Mrs. Stracener said, “Did they give you an extra one?”
    â€œNope. It’s mine.” And then I blurted the whole ugly story, about the chips and the cookies and the two-week binge and realizing I needed to GET A GRIP and feeling desperate and nearly getting fined for littering—
    About that time Mrs. Crumpton grabbed my hands, looked solidly into my eyes, and said reassuringly, “We can help you, dear.”
    â€œThank you!” I gushed. “Just don’t let me eat the fries . . . whatever you do, DON’T LET ME EAT THE FRIES!”
    So now I’m back on my diet, and there are two women in Texas who think what I really should be on is medication.
    I hate starting over. It doesn’t matter if the thing I’m starting over is a diet or a page of prose that I should have had saved when my dog tripped over the electrical cord to my computer.
    The other thing I hate to do is start over when I stumble in my walk with Jesus. Somehow, I’d love to deal with a sin or doubt or fear or struggle once and never have to deal with it again. I’d love to announce—when the topic of gossip or lust or envy comes up—“Been there, done that!”
    I’d love to say, “Anger? Oh sure. I got angry back in 1974, but the Lord delivered me, and I’ve been gracious ever since.”
    â€œDepression? Did that in ’87. Never struggled since.”
    â€œLack of faith? Lord and I put that one to bed back in ’93.”
    The good news is that even when I’m feeling defeated from having to muster a brand-new attack on a not-so-new enemy, there’s Someone standing by with fresh resources to see me through. Indeed, the Bible promises us that God’s mercies and compassion never fail. In fact, they are new every morning, and his faithfulness is great!
    Even when I’m weak, he is strong.
    Which is reassuring. Especially since I only ate half the bag of chips this morning. I think the other half is still waiting for me in the kitchen.

17

    Battle Strategies for Lovers
    W E ’ VE ALL HEARD THE SAYING “M AKE LOVE, NOT WAR. ”
    This is absurd. If you want my opinion, I say, “Why choose? Do both!”
    After all, fighting is an unavoidable aspect of marriage. I mean, you can’t share a bathroom sink or a checkbook with someone without coming close to blows from time to time.
    So I figure the best marriage has to include room for making love AND war. You just have to know how to get from point A to point B, from all that blaming and fuming to a little passion and foreplay.
    And if you happen to know how to do that, please e-mail me and let me know, because I haven’t got a clue.
    Actually, I’ve tried various approaches through the years, and I’ll be happy to tell you what doesn’t work.
    Sugar cookies, for example, don’t work.
    I know this because Larry and I had a fight last week. As we were arguing, I walked into the kitchen, removed a tub of cookie dough from the freezer, and dropped a dozen chunks of dough onto a baking stone without letting my side of the debate lag for even a moment.
    Twelve