Do you believe in premonitions? I suppose some would call it intuition, instinct, or maybe simply a feeling. Whatever, I find it fascinating, mostly because it happens to me a lot. Sometimes I’ve ignored the message and it causes me grief of some sort, as if to say, I told you so! Why didn’t you listen?
So now that I’m older and dare I say wiser, I’m finally good at listening to my innards, so to speak. How about you?
(I reprinted this post from 2013, which sadly is still relevant today.)
They say with age comes wisdom. I’m not so sure I believe that. You see, I’m not exactly a spring chicken so you’d think I’d be pretty smart by now, wouldn’t you? There’s no doubt I’ve learned stuff along the way that’s helped me navigate through life. But in some areas I’m still quite lacking. And for that I blame my poor memory. How can I acquire this wisdom if my memory is on strike?
For instance, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve misplaced my keys. When I walk into the house, I should have a routine where I put them, don’t you think? Sounds reasonable to me. If I had a routine it would go like this: place the keys in a bowl on the counter. How hard is that? Apparently very.
My mind is like a game of leap frog. It jumps from one thing to another. So by the time I exit the car, walk to the door, open it and walk in, I’m already on to another thought. I think I’ll make myself a grilled cheese sandwich then water the annuals. Oh, and I suppose I should fertilize while I’m at it. And so it goes…
Any conscious thought about keys became lost within the 20-foot span it took me to get into the house. Poof!
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Today I was thinking about my late business partner, Susan, while I trapped feral cats on a 50 acre water buffalo farm where they produce mozzarella in rural Marin County. Talk about farm fresh. As you’ve probably guessed, it’s uniqueness is evident. I mean, seriously, it’s where the buffalo roam. (And, I’m guessing, where the deer and the antelope play.)
Anywhere rural is bound to have feral cats. Like being in one of those revolving doors at fancy hotels, they tend to come and go. But not before we ensure they stop having kittens. Still, that’s a tall order to fill when, if we miss 2 cats of the opposite sex, well, there ya go.
I was dealing with Covid last week so here’s a post from 2017. Happy 2024 everyone!
Yesterday I was reading about observational studies, including ways to influence people without actually speaking to them. In other words, silent communication. Not that I want to influence anyone, mind you. Nor be silent. As you learned in last week’s post, not speaking is tough for me.
But ever since I minored in Abnormal Psychology in college I’ve been fascinated by studies that attempt to interpret behavior (probably why I’m so interested in true crime stories). So here’s what I learned from these various studies:
1) If a person is interested in who they’re talking to and what they’re saying, their pupils dilate. So next time you go on and on about your crappy job, look closely into the listeners eyes. If those pupils are as tiny as a grain of sand, consider changing the subject. Sex is always an eye opener.
Definitely discussing sex
2) If you’re a waitress, studies show that servers who touch customers on the arm, shoulder or hand get better tips. So get grabby and rake in the bucks, ladies! I’m guessing that means waiters, however, should keep their hands to themselves, lest they get slapped with a sexual harassment suit. Talk about double standards…
Here’s a post from 2020 when we were in the midst of dealing with the virus…
Don’t hate me, but ever since COVID-19 took over our lives, I’ve been like someone on Adderall. Not that I know what that’s like. The strongest thing I take is an anti-inflammatory. I’ve never even smoked weed. I’ve used pot cream for my back though. Does that count? But I digress…my point is I’ve been busy and productive of late.
You should see my current To-Do list. Used to be as long as my arm and now it’s the length of my nose. Now don’t get me wrong; that’s still pretty long, if you’ve ever seen my nose. Little doubt I’ll again add to that list, but oh the satisfaction of crossing off stuff I’ve been staring at for months, if not years.
I now have newly painted door frames, stair risers and baseboards — no more chips from errant vacuuming. I can now park in my garage…I secured the backyard retaining wall vine…I removed the upstairs bathroom ceiling heating fan cover. Do you know I’ve been staring at 11 dead bees in that for months? Yes, I counted them. Makes me wonder what’s going on in my attic.
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 