Similarly, a word can squirm and fidget its way to the surface, demanding to be used. I'm in just such a verbal insistence experience right now. It began last Thursday.

Feckless.

I wanted to say the word feckless. Say it out loud. Use it in a sentence. I wasn't certain I could define it or use it correctly, but I had to say it. Was my subconscious reaching back to a word not heard or used for decades but that perfectly described my concurrent experience? Or was feckless a random syllabic urge?

I had the sickening feeling it referred to a relationship…fairly new, not romantic, but a new person in my circle.

Feckless is a fun word to say. Feckless. Less familiar than reckless. More common than neckless…after all, how many folks do you know with no neck?

A shaman sat in our kiva five years ago and proclaimed FEEeee a fun word to say. He got it from his grandson. FEEEEE, feeeeee. (Maybe more fun if you're a lawyer or any professional who charges by the hour.)

Now that I've taken the opportunity to say feckless, feckless, feckless…should I trust the emergence of this semi-mysterious word as a warning to remove the ineffectual person from my close associates…or was that a comment on only the day; thus, days to come will be much better?

That remains to be seen. The individual may emerge speckless. Or may surpass the value of my necklace. Meanwhile it would be reckless of me to break the association completely checkless.

So I will check.

Wouldn't if be cool if one could feck?

No matter that the anniversary party was supposed to be festive, because as soon as their third-born blasted in and discovered lunch wouldn't be for two hours, 90 minutes at best, not a shred of peace remained.

Mom said, "I love it when you come, but I love it more when you leave."

In other words, there was no reason not to tackle the difficult conversation we'd rehearsed. Yes, on the way to their house, Ellen and I bought a super-sized courage-producing beverage to pass back and forth as we role-played possible scenarios while stopped next to a park a few blocks away. Feeling we had several approaches at-the-ready by the time the bottle was empty, we arrived with calm confidence that lasted all the way into the kitchen.

We set up a long table in the living room, with table cloth, plates, plastic ware and paper cups all in silver. It was the loveliest 100% disposable layout I'd ever seen. The deli tray and salads were carried in and the party was joined. Somewhere between my getting but half of the only vegetarian sandwich on the party platter and later sitting on my hotel bed eating pistachios, I suppose "the conversation" took place. It was a blur from the moment we sat down at the table till it was over. Till now, actually.

The older brother-in-law provided soft drinks whose meaning was was immediately clear around the table–too soft to support ordinary family dynamics, let alone talk of nursing homes and dying. Ellen retrieved a half jug of wine from the cooler in our car. Salads were passed. Comments were made about roast beef. The younger brother-in-law took his family home as soon as the plates were cleared.

The much-planned-for family photo was not taken. We'd hauled the tripod 500 miles for nothing. In fact, no pictures were taken that included Dad except for the back of his head. The never-still children were blurry. Mom looked angry. Or was she exhausted by our presence? (Of course, there's never a photo record that I make any of these family trips.)

Professional colleagues I lunched with yesterday confessed to the same strains on their parental relationships. We're all having "the conversation." One's mother said, "I want you to move back to New Jersey so you can take care of me." He asked us, "What am I supposed to do, wipe her butt?" Another confessed the only way she'd gotten her mother to put the house on the market was to tell her, "When you're sitting there in diapers, I'm not coming over to change them!"

It's been stressful over the last few months while researching options the parents asked us to help with to figure out ways to engage in dialogue once Mom flip-flopped and said she wasn't leaving her house. She declared that the end of the conversation we're continuing at the risk of her affection and he faith in our affections. We know Mom will leave the house, one way or the other, as will Dad. We'd prefer they walk out together.

Meanwhile, they'll be here in a week, and we've arranged lunch at an independent living complex.

I always thought it would be cool to record them. There are baby books. Why not old people books?

This week I had several snapshots taken so I could send off a head shot to promote an appearance in a couple weeks on how to slash your mortgage interest in half by changing the way you pay.

The photo on this page didn't make the promo cut, but if you look closely to your left of my excessively fleshy grin, you may see what made me happy. Or rather a sign I am happy. See the leftmost wrinkle that doesn't curve like its smiling relatives? It has its own crinkle. I'm calling it a precursor to a dimple. (Why do dimples make their bearers look happier than the rest of us schmucks?)

I like to think that I am happier than I used to be. I want to believe that maturity, centeredness and gratitude make one happy. And the best part about it is, all these traits are choices.

It seems easier for most people to be critical–displeased with their own shortcomings and disgruntled with everyone else's. That must be the path of least resistance, because few people seem truly happy most of the time. (Why not?)

We know smiling puts people at ease, improves relationships and increases sales. It can relax the smiler as well as others.

It may not be possible to grow a full-fledged dimple by grinning, but there are other advantages of trying. I discovered - and tested - smiling during a workout increases my endurance. I can squeeze out a few more reps by forcing the corners of my mouth outward.

According to Dr William of Fry of Standford University, smiling stimulates the human brain to release chemicals which inhibit infection and lessen pain. from The Women Warriors

If smiling not only makes me and everyone around me feel better, but also lessens pain and enhances productivity, that's a wrinkle I can live with!