My So-Called IQ Test

So, one day a couple of months ago, I became antsy reading a ton of emails from those wanting help trapping a feral cat, wanting a feral cat, or needing their feral cat sterilized…just my usual morning in cat rescue.

I then decided to take a detour to focus on something else, something a little more, shall I say, entertaining. If you’ve seen the movie, Pretty Woman, starring Julia Roberts, you probably recall the line she said to the saleswoman who refused to help her buy a new wardrobe, and I quote:

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Compassion: A Curse and a Blessing

Okay, so you probably noticed my last post ran for two weeks. That’s because I was in France with my besties, cruising for two glorious weeks along the Seine River from Paris to Normandy, which I’ll be blogging about. But until then, here’s a rerun from 2022. I hope you enjoy it…

I believe I have an overactive compassion gene. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not saying that’s a particularly bad trait, depending on how you look at it. For one thing, it means I’m not a psychopath since they tend not to have an ounce of compassion, let alone a conscience. So yay for me!

The reason I even brought this up is because I’m in animal rescue, specifically cats. Not that I don’t rescue other creatures. I’m what you would call an equal opportunity savior. Wait. That sounds pompous. Let me rephrase that. How about equal opportunity rescuer? Yeah, that’s better.

Now, you’re going to think I’m a bit loony. And you wouldn’t be far off, especially when I tell you what I did the other day…So I’m having lunch at home when I reach for my glass of water and notice a fly inside, swimming frantically in circles. I’m not entirely certain flies swim but whatever it was doing, it looked frantic.

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Say it Isn’t So

It is with profound sadness that I announce the passing of a very special friend; a friend that has been there for me the past 13 years, through both great and difficult times.

Although my friend could be frustrating and, on occasion, disappointing, I’m sure it was usually my fault. When life got busy, I tended to be neglectful. I admit I sometimes left him behind – usually in my trunk.

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An Unlikely Friendship

 

Our first team, Peter’s Formal Wear

The game of softball will always be special to me because that’s where I first came to know Sharon. Even though we grew up on the same street, it took years for us to connect.

As a tomboy, I lived to play baseball in the streets of our suburban home in Marin County. The boys and I dodged parked cars as we ran for fly balls; the manhole cover in front of the Brodnik’s house was our permanent second base.

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A Road Trip

I went on a 3-hour, 80 mile ride on Thursday with Mario. Unless you count the hour we got lost. Then it’s more like 4-hours and 100 miles. Now don’t get me wrong; before you get all excited thinking I have a boyfriend, Mario is my scooter (as you may know if you read my blog, Just Gotta Scoot).

Mario
Mario

Mario and I took the back road trip from my home in San Rafael to the scooter shop for a tune-up in Santa Rosa. Turns out I learned a few things since our last extended journey. (There goes that live and learn lesson again.) Anyway, I thought I’d share my findings in case you also one day find yourself riding on the same gorgeous back roads through beautiful Marin and Sonoma Counties, which I also blogged about in My Slice of Paradise. (Yes, I’m shamelessly self-promoting.)

Pt. Reyes/Petaluma Road
Pt. Reyes/Petaluma Road

Anyway, here’s what you should know:

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