Pot Gummies Rock

After years of being an insomniac, I’ve discovered something rather disturbing and it’s this: Not sleeping sucks. This comes from someone who, given the chance, would enjoy 9-10 hours of blissful slumber a night until my late 40s.

Something changed when menopause hit. Now don’t get me wrong; I’m not alone here. Few ladies I know around my age who aren’t on a low dose of hormones sleep throughout the night. I’m envious. I’ve asked my doctor about this and I get the same response my sleepless friends receive…

Keep a sleep routine; don’t use your computer late at night; get a sleep app; take Melatonin; no caffeine at night; take a hot bath…yada, yada. Well let me tell ya, none of that worked. And since Alzheimer’s is on both sides of my family, my doctor advised against taking sleeping pills and using hormone therapy.

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In My Mind’s Eye: Remembering Dad

Here’s my annual Father’s Day post, adapted from an article I wrote for the San Francisco Chronicle in 1997. Here’s to you Dad…There’s an image I have captured in my mind. I’m in my car in front of the home my parents have shared for most of their 45 married years. Mom and Dad are standing on the front porch.

From the street, I can see the huge eucalyptus tree in their backyard, silhouetted against the evening sky. It’s gently swaying in the warm breeze while the full moon illuminates the manicured lawn. My parents are smiling and waving as I drive away after a visit.

Mom lives alone now that Dad is in an Alzheimer’s nursing facility, so that scenario has changed. But it never does in my mind. My parents always stood on the porch to wave good-bye when I left. Even in pouring rain, they still stood in the open doorway together. I always looked back and returned their waves. Continue reading

Get Smart

Wrong Get Smart...

Not exactly what I meant

Did you know there are 7 hobbies that will make you smarter? Neither did I. Guess I’m not that smart. Therefore it might behoove me to bone up on these particular hobbies because, let’s face it, at some point our brain cells start diminishing about as rapidly as Matt Lauer’s hairline.Matt LauerAnytime we learn a new skill or have new experiences, scientists say we create more neuron pathways in our brain, making our grey matter work better and faster. And who doesn’t like being better and faster? No one, that’s who.

Since we aren’t born with a given level of intelligence, we can always improve in the cranial region. My feeling is, the more neurons I have, the longer it takes before Alzheimer’s strangles my memories, devouring precious neurons like I devour chocolate. Not a pretty sight… Continue reading

In My Mind’s Eye: Remembering Dad

Here’s my annual Father’s Day post, adapted from an article I wrote in 1997 for the San Francisco Chronicle about the relationship I shared with my dad. Here’s to fathers everywhere…There’s an image I have captured in my mind. I’m in my car in front of the home my parents have shared for most of their 45 married years. Mom and Dad are standing on the front porch.

From the street, I can see the huge eucalyptus tree in their backyard, silhouetted against the evening sky. It’s gently swaying in the warm breeze while the full moon illuminates the manicured lawn. My parents are smiling and waving as I drive away after a visit.

Mom lives alone now that Dad is in an Alzheimer’s nursing facility, so that scenario has changed. But it never does in my mind. My parents always stood on the porch to wave good-bye when I left. Even in pouring rain, they still stood in the open doorway together. I always looked back and returned their waves. Continue reading

Where Are We Again?

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