So recently I told you about my not so brilliant dogs. But this week is a whole different story; today I’m blogging about how smart they are. I know! I myself am surprised I wrote that sentence since my mutts haven’t exactly proven to be canine Einstein’s. But nobody’s perfect, right?
Now don’t get me wrong; this revelation about their intelligence doesn’t really serve a purpose other than allow me to marvel at their ability to absorb certain things you’d think would go unnoticed by canines. But not by MY dogs. Here’s how smart they are…
When I unplug the hot curling brush in the morning, Taffy, Skip and Wally run downstairs because that means I’m nearly done getting ready. But Callie knows I don’t leave the bathroom until I use my eyebrow pencil. As soon as I return it to the drawer, however, she heads downstairs. How’s that for smart?
Jack, my recently adopted 4th cat, will be my last. I won’t be guardian to more felines until one of mine goes over the Rainbow Bridge. And it’s not because I’m afraid of being a crazy cat lady. That boat sailed a while ago.
No, the reason I’m stopping after Jack is because, well, you don’t know Jack. And as it turns out, I didn’t either. Now don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t change my decision to add Jack to my animal family. It’s just that the more I get to know him, his true personality emerges. Need I say more? (Well actually, yes, or I won’t have a blog post today.) Continue reading →
I’m what you’d call technologically challenged. If my computer, cell phone or TV goes on the blink, I stare at it with tilted head, open mouth and squinted eyes. I do this out of utter exasperation because in that moment, I have absolutely no clue what to do. Nonewhatsoever. Continue reading →
So a while back, I wrote about my attempt to get in shape and lose the poundage I gained after nearly a year of being sedentary (damn old back). Being a couch potato didn’t suit me much. But when just about every step felt like what I imagine a lightening bolt to the back feels like, the thought of exercising never entered my mind.
And you know what goes along with being a couch potato? You guessed it. Eating, that’s what. During the height of the pandemic, I, like millions of Americans, ate more than my fair share of potatoes.
So with my lack of mobility, those spuds headed directly for my thighs. And stomach. And hips. Pretty much everywhere except my ankles. Those were unscathed, thank you very much. But then I got an epidural for my back, which didn’t help much. Months later I got another and lo and behold, the pain was gone. Strike up the band!
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 9 hours. In my 40s-50s, 8 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 3 hours. I’m then awake for 2, 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.
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? Continue reading →