By Mary Duggan

When I say I am a worrier, I mean if my 16-year-old cat is curled up, blissfully enjoying a sunbeam, I stare long and hard to make sure he is still breathing. I take the very ingredients of a peaceful existence and wrap worry around them. When I say good-bye as you head out the door, I mean don’t die in transit. When I say good night, I mean please wake up in the morning. When I say have fun, I mean come home from the carnival in one piece. When I say worry, I am talking layered.

Layer one: never let someone’s age or maturity deter you.

My nephew is 24-years-old. On Tuesdays he works 9-5 for us, followed by an hours long editorial meeting at his other job. I worry about him having enough nourishment to sustain him on such long days. So, I try on Tuesdays to get our dinner ready early so I can pack some for him to take to his evening meeting.

Layer two: inspire others to worry as well.

I have gotten Annie invested in this if we don’t feed him he’ll keel over on the El tracks program. She now syncs up with me in the kitchen on Tuesdays. Our nephew is a good sport about our largely raw lifestyle, but we really enjoy auntie-spoiling him on occasion too. He is a true foodie, a super conscious eater and (more…)