Author Archives: Janet

Where Are We Again?

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don't foget A couple weeks ago I divulged my innate ability to get lost (even with GPS). This week, why not tackle my skill at losing things? Things like my keys, my mind and my glasses. I thought I’d slip in the losing my mind reference without much notice, but seems you were paying attention.

My nickname in high school was Skippy because I was, well, a bit scattered and yes, forgetful. Still am. Friends even went so far as to choose that name as my personalized license plate. Motorists thought I loved peanut butter or had a passion for skipping. Little did they know. I’ve been know to forget having met someone. Unbelievable, huh? Sometimes I don’t recall places I’ve supposedly visited. I’ve even watched an entire movie then realized, as the credits rolled, that I’d seen it before. I’ve always been this way, which in a sense gives me comfort. Continue reading →

Getting Healthy – Not Me, My Pets

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I’ve been making meals for myself for 15 years now. No more planning dinners for my significant other since I no longer have one. My ex was a meat eater and I’m not, so I cooked him a typical Midwest meal of meat and potatoes with a side of vegetables thrown in for good measure. I, on the other hand, enjoy anything without a face, like my roasted tomato-vegetable casserole, salad on the side.

Oh, how times have changed. Once I’d acclimated to cooking dinner only when I felt like it (even though my ex never expected me to cook for him), I’d just wing it. For instance, I’d simply enjoy cheese and crackers followed by fruit with yogurt. Or maybe I’d have breakfast for dinner, something my dad always enjoyed.

Dad at Sand Harbor in Lake Tahoe
Dear old Dad

So now I’m back to cooking for those in my home who depend on me for their daily sustenance — my 10 pets. They’re the opposite of my ex in that they expect and actually insist I make their meals. It better be ready at 9 a.m. and 6 p.m., respectively, or I’m gonna hear about it. Most of my pets aren’t much larger than a bread box (am I dating myself?) and since I definitely am larger, one would imagine they’d think twice before being so demanding.

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I’m a Badass

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Originally posted in 2018

I can be a badass.

You don’t believe me, do you? You think because I’m a diminutive 63-year-old that I sit at home and knit every night, a cup of tea and a cookie on a table next to my easy chair. Oh how wrong you are, my friends.

team and cookie

First of all, I don’t particularly like tea. In fact, if I didn’t think it was healthy for me, I’d never drink it again. Secondly, I don’t knit. It’s not my cup-o-tea. (Wink, wink.) Thirdly, I’d never have just one cookie. Who can have just one? Seriously, I wouldn’t care to know that person.

Now don’t get me wrong. By “badass” I’m not saying Marin County police have memorized my name. In fact, my criminal life consists of two traffic violations. (Yawn.) One I blame on my friend Sharon when, at her urging, I drove straight in a right-turn-only lane. What can I say…we were running late. My other crime was speeding. Yes, I admit I have a lead foot.

Speed demon

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A Felon with a Pretty Face

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Jeremy Meeks
Jeremy Meeks

If you don’t recognize that name or face, you don’t own a TV, read the newspaper, have a computer or listen to the radio. That means you’re most likely a hermit living in a cabin in the mountains of Minnesota. Does Minnesota have mountains?  If so, that’s probably where you’re living – sort of like the Unabomber except with essentials: an espresso machine, See’s milk chocolate chews and Crest Extra Whitening Toothpaste. After all, you’re not a barbarian, just uninformed. Now back to Jeremy…

Unabomber, Ted Kazinski
The Unabomber
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Love Me Some Sweet Releaf

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You’ll have to excuse me if I’m slurring my letters. You see, I’m under the influence of weed cream. Therefore, I can’t be held responsible for inappropriate words I’m likely to type. There’s also a chance I might not make sense. But what else is new? Let’s blame it on weed cream.

mercy wellness2

What, you might ask, is weed cream? Actually, I’m surprised you don’t know. Being one of only 2 other people I’m aware of on the planet who’ve never tried marijuana, I thought pretty much everyone was savvy to the multitude of ways the drug is used. Now don’t get me wrong; I’ve still never smoked the stuff. I’m more interested in the medicinal effects of pot. This is what happens with age.

It’s not that I have anything against pot smokers; I just never had any interest. I did, however, try smoking a cigarette once. It felt like my throat was closing and I’d slowly suffocate to death, whereupon I’d be found days later half-eaten by my dogs. Unlike my cats, they aren’t as particular about what they consume. Meet Picky, Picky and Picky.

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