Originally posted in 2013
As an animal advocate, I prefer to avoid consuming them. Instead, I’m perfectly happy watching cows and sheep graze the rolling hills of Marin. I pretend they’re able to do that until a ripe old age, whereupon they die in a pasture, fat and happy.
The truth is, there’s not much I can do for these particular animals except refuse to dine on them. Still, I find it frustrating to know I’m helpless to change their fate. Continue reading
I’m a multitasker. My brain is always one step ahead of the rest of me and it’s tough playing catch up. You see, I find it difficult to do only one thing at a time. Now don’t get me wrong; the real problem is that there’s only 24 hours in a day. Even though I only sleep for 5-6 of them, I continually discover there’s just not enough time to do what I need to do. Or more importantly, want to do.
For instance, while I’m writing this, I’m propped up in bed, intermittently checking my emails, watching the 11:00 news and alternately petting my cat Oliver, who’s asleep on the night stand and then my dog Skip, who’s glued to my side. I’d pet my dog Callie too but she’s at the foot of the bed and I don’t want to reach down that far. Hey, I’m human. I can only do so much.
Sometimes I wish I could quiet my brain. I tried meditation but there’s an art to that, don’t you think? Being able to focus on, well…nothing, is hard. It takes discipline and lots of practice. At least that’s what I hear. Anyway, who has the time? Besides, when I’ve tried meditating, it gives my mind free reign to go wild. And let me tell ya, it takes full advantage.
Last week in my post, This Just In: I’m Pathetic, I mentioned that this week I’d add three more reasons why I’m pathetic and then be done with it. But after much thought, I believe I’m more on the farcical side than pathetic. But I’ll let you decide. So having said that…
Here goes #1…
I named Siri on my iPhone and the accent I wanted him to have. I’ve always loved an Australian accent, so I chose someone I envisioned looking similar to Mel Gibson back when he was drop dead gorgeous and before I learned he’s not the person I thought he was.
Yes, it’s true, and I’ll prove it. It’s likely you might end up thinking I’m not only pathetic, but a bit weird. And who am I to argue? Odds are you wouldn’t be wrong.
So let’s jump right in: I SAVE SLUGS. Let me rephrase that. I rescue slugs. Well, that’s not much better, is it? The thing is, I have those disgusting, banana-type slugs making their slimy way into my kitchen and occasionally my garage. Repulsive, huh?
Here’s a post I wrote way back in 2016
I have to say I’m writing this sorely aware of pretty much every muscle in my body. I say sorely because I believe I feel pain in just about every fiber of all 640 muscles. Did you know we have that many? Me neither. I had to look it up. But my point is, I feel pain in all of them.
Let me explain…remember when I juiced for 10 days to help cleanse my system of the baked Cheetos and taffy I keep stashed in the console of my SUV? You don’t?! Well then, you need to read my post: Welcome To My Detox.
Turns out I spend an inordinate amount of time in my vehicle traveling to trap feral cats for spay/neuter. A gal gets hungry you know. Nothing worse than trapping at Dillon Beach miles from a grocery store when a hankerin’ for cheese and crackers hits. So I keep a stash of edibles in my console. Sometimes they aren’t what one would call healthy snacks. Hence the cleanse. Continue reading
Now Don't Get Me Wrong 