The Art of Commuting

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Here’s what I’ve learned about commuting. It sucks. I ask you, how do people do this every day?

its-called-a-blinker

Lately I’ve been commuting into San Francisco once a week, which normally takes around 45 minutes. But not when it’s 7:30 a.m. Then it takes 90 minutes. Yes, you read that right. I can jog faster than we often crawl along the freeway (and I only jog 10 minute miles). Commuting makes me want to drive off the nearest cliff. But I won’t because that means sitting in more traffic to get there.

commute-traffic

I’ve joined the poor saps who commute into the city because the SPCA offered to sterilize 5 feral cats for us each visit for free. Let me repeat that awesome sentence in case you’re questioning whether you need glasses. THEY ARE DOING IT FOR FREE. That means each time I endure the excruciatingly tedious drive, I remind myself it’s worth my nonprofit saving $300. Continue reading →

Winston: The Not So Friendly Ghost

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My home is possessed.

Now don’t get me wrong; I haven’t witnessed a shimmering white image at the foot of my bed in the wee hours of the night. You know I rarely sleep anymore so I’m often awake during prime ghost hours (presumably 2-3 a.m.). Anyway, what self-respecting spirit manifests himself when his intended target is wide awake? Sorta takes the excitement away from scaring me out of a deep slumber, wouldn’t you say?

boo

I’ve named my homebound spirit Winston and I’d love to meet him, if not to simply wring his neck. I imagine, though, it might be difficult to strangle a vaporous white cloud. Still, I’d like to try. The fact is, my annoying heavenly spirit has attempted to get my attention for quite a while before finally succeeding. Well done, Winston.

Turns out my earthly ghost messes with most of my techie gadgets, like Direct TV, computer, cell phone, GPS, portable speakerphone, even my Fitbit. You name it, if it’s electronic, he bewitches it just for yours truly. And to him I say:

thoughtful

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A Celebration

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I’m writing this on Thanksgiving day (yippee, I’m not cooking!) so I’m contemplating all that I’m thankful for — naturally, family and friends. But one person in particular comes to mind today: Marty (Mr. G), my friend Sharon’s dad.

mr-g-party-brother

Mr. G (left) and his twin brother Marsh

Recently I was invited to Mr. G’s 85th birthday celebration held at Spinnaker restaurant in Sausalito. The party took place in a room with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the bay where boats sail toward the Golden Gate and kayakers paddle under the row of restaurants lining the waterfront. A perfect day for a celebration.

spinnaker

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Only in Texas

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I’ve visited 20 states so far in my 61 years. Eventually, I hope to see most of them. Well, all except for Michigan and Wisconsin. I’ve crossed them off my list for certain recent events. But never mind that now. Let bygones be bygones, right? Besides, moving to Canada is out of the question; I’m not fond of cold weather and I don’t understand ice hockey. But let’s continue, shall we?

frozen-car

No thank you

My point is, little did I know I’d visit a particular state WAY more than I ever imagined. That would be Texas, y’all. Now don’t get me wrong. I have nothing against the place, exactly. It’s actually an interesting, often beautiful and entertaining state. But there’s only one reason I’ve gone there so often — one of my besties, Sharon, lives there.

sharon-at-beach

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Oh So Weary

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I’ve been weary. Oh so weary. Isn’t that a song? I can’t be sure because of my weariness. Brush my hair? Do I have to? Feed the animals? Can’t they miss a meal? Plain and simple, I’m about at my limit rustling up spare energy. In other words, I’m dog tired.

dog-tired

Right about now you might be thinking, quit feeling sorry for yourself, Janet. I’m busy also but you don’t see ME whining. Okay, so maybe you’re a whirlwind like my friend Sharon who never tires. Well good for you. And her. But not everything is about you and Sharon. So get over yourself already. This is MY blog and I’m trying to tell you how tired I am. Jeeeeez…

I’m so sorry. I have to apologize for being rude back there. I’m not myself when I’m weary. Now don’t get me wrong; it’s not like my crankiness means I’d have you killed just for a differing opinion. Not that I couldn’t. Have you killed, that is. After all, this is America and we have the First Amendment. We also have folks willing to bump you off for putting it into action.

free-speech

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