Night Owl or Morning Lark?

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Originally posted in 2015

hands up

I don’t know about you but for me, one of the least desirable aspects of getting longer in the tooth is lack of sleep. Gone are the nights of 10-hour slumbers like in my teens. In my 20s-30s I often achieved a steady nine hours. In my 40s-50s, eight hours hit the spot. Ah, those were the days.

Now that I’m in my 60s, my snoozing time lasts about as long as an Oliver Stone movie, generally just over three hours. I’m then awake for two, followed by another hour or two of semi-consciousness. I tell ya, if I keep going like this, when I hit 70, the act of a prolonged blink will constitute a nice little nap.

dear 3 a.m

I suppose it doesn’t help that I’m a night owl. Now don’t get me wrong; it’s not my fault. I blame my mom. Like my sister and me, she stayed up well past midnight, needing to force herself to sleep around 2:00 a.m. That doesn’t leave a whole lot of time for a visit from the Sandman, does it?

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Ah, Paree!

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I’ve missed traveling far and wide the last few years. So I decided to plan a couple of trips a year to places I’ve never been — like a river cruise from Paris to Normandy with three great friends.

Sharon, me, Sue and Pam at the airport

Finding a pet sitter for my six cats and two dogs isn’t an easy feat, but my friend, Daina, is just that – a pet sitter. Lucky for me, she was up for the 13-day challenge, bless her brave heart.

Daina introduced me to Grand Circle Cruise Line (GCCL) and their fabulous discounts. Why pay full price when nearly half off was beckoning? We even upgraded to better seating on the plane, to and from. Never mind I don’t need extra leg room with these stubby legs, but hey, why not? We were on vacation.

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In My Mind’s Eye: Remembering Dad

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Here’s my annual Father’s Day post, adapted from an article I wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle in 1997. Happy Father’s Day! Here’s to you Dad…

There’s an image I have captured in my mind. I’m in my car in front of the home my parents have shared for most of their 45 married years. Mom and Dad are standing on the front porch.

From the street, I can see the huge eucalyptus tree in their backyard, silhouetted against the evening sky. It’s gently swaying in the warm breeze while the full moon illuminates the manicured lawn. My parents are smiling and waving as I drive away after a visit.

Mom lives alone now that Dad is in an Alzheimer’s nursing facility, so that scenario has changed; but it never does in my mind. My parents always stood on the porch to wave good-bye when I left. Even in pouring rain, they still stood in the open doorway together. I always looked back and returned their waves.

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To the Rescue!

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If I told you about the week I had, you wouldn’t believe me. But it’s why I’m re-posting this blog from 2022 since I had limited time this week. So grab a cup of coffee, sit back, relax, and I hope you enjoy this post.

What I’m about to tell you is just between us. Loose lips not only sink ships, they can also land me in the slammer. The problem with that? I doubt jail caters to vegetarians and I’m guessing their sleeping arrangements aren’t as comfy as my king size Sleep Number bed with pillow-top padding.

Jail food

Since you’re finished reading about our dog rescue on Mare Island, I figure this is a good time to tell you about another canine rescue I was part of. Some might call it a dog-napping and they wouldn’t be incorrect. But I prefer to label it as a life or death rescue intervention.

Here’s what happened: One of our feral cat caretakers (who we’ll refer to as Shannon) was told by her daughter (let’s call her Kelly) about a dog she discovered living out of state with a past friend of hers. The dog was locked in a cage in a basement with little food or water. Pretty cruel, huh? The dog was horribly malnourished and basically ignored by her so-called guardian, a drug addict who we’ll call The Neglector.

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How To Be A Squeaky Wheel

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I rarely pass up the opportunity to gripe about companies that irritate me when I already deal with enough irritations on a daily basis. For instance, take my cat, Skye, who vomited her entire meal onto the kitchen nook seating; she couldn’t do it on the kitchen tile like a considerate cat would, but apparently that never crossed her mind.

The culprit

Anyway, to begin my griping, I’ve had DirecTV for over 30 years. I’m too lazy to leave my desk to confirm that number, but it’s been mucho years. During those mucho years, I’ve only called DirecTV a handful of times. In other words, I’d say I’m an ideal customer.

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