They say that petting a cat lowers your stress levels. My experiment involves watching someone pet a cat. Does THAT lower your stress level?

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The morning speaks to me

messy-bed-xlI want to know what other people’s morning rituals are, so as an invitation to share yours, here’s mine:

[I should clarify: this only happens when it’s summertime and neither my kids nor I have any real responsibilities (because I’m a teacher and they’re out of school). So, in other words, our true nature is coming out.]

I like to stay up late which means I get out of bed late… although I tend to wake up early. Like 5am but then I put my eyepatches (eyesleep mask? There is no good word for this thing that is so helpful in the early morning after a late night partying with friends) on so I can sleep longer. I sleep maybe another hour and then – sorry, but it’s true – I check my facebook and then go back to sleep. And I do that a few times before actually getting up. Sleeping, facebook, sleeping, facebook. Annnnnnnddddd eventually I’m up.

Then? I really want a cup of coffee in bed but alas there is no one to make it for me but me, but I also don’t want to get up and disturb this Zen state of mind I have so I just give up wanting coffee and get back into bed. I read various things but eventually I pick up my favorite book (now by Amy Krause Rosenthal) and after a few pages of her inimitable writing (that is like reading my own mind at play), I have to write too. And I write and write and get crazy ideas about social experiments or digging up my past for other people’s entertainment and then…. I get up, make coffee and see if my kids need anything.

While I’m making coffee – which lately just involves a pour-over where I have to stand there and wait for the water to sift through the grains —  I do my kegels because making coffee is the only totally predictable part of my day and so since it’s inevitable I figure I should include the kegel ritual for good measure. (I know – that was probably TMI but it gave me a laugh so I figured maybe you’d laugh, too. Plus maybe you’ll start doing your kegels in the morning. Come to think of it, shouldn’t men be doing kegels, too? Why the hell not, right?).

And then after some more writing and coffee drinking on an empty stomach – well, sometimes I grab a potato chip or some nuts but I don’t want to spend time cooking anything – I’m sitting at the kitchen table writing more. The morning is my most creative time. I reserve other parts of the day for random, sporadic meaningless jokes and observations that hit me but I reserve the morning for what my unconscious, inner life beckons me to write down. There. That’s it. What’s yours?

Facebook rantings and ravings

Sometimes when I share a smile with a relative stranger like a cashier at a store, I get a lump in my throat. Not a sad lump. More of a ‘Wow we are all one despite how separate we all think we are’ kind of lump.

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if i’m not kissing my cat’s stomach or wrassling with the dog on the living room carpet or dancing wildly in the kitchen or writing ridiculous nonsense on facebook, then something is wrong. so i am correcting that right now.

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Bc the NY times says that it’s eye contact that promotes more sympathy and empathy between people, I’m just gonna put this right here.

eye

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I just mowed the lawn walking backwards. There is a reason for this. Although … It doesn’t really matter. The neighbors prob still think I’m crazy. Except maybe Faye?… 🙂

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even though the world is imploding and population is skyrocketing and i’m barely doing anything to impact anybody with my little life in a little corner of the world, i need a moment of pointlessness bc it gets me through and here is my question: “when oreo makes doublestuff cookies, what happens to the other side of the cookie that doesn’t get used? it seems like a lonely life for that unsmeared cookie half.” and now back to death and destruction.

willow

willow
fat. very very very fat.
we love her for that. her fat.
she is soft and smells good, but mostly… it’s her fat.
willow
soft and round, plumpy and yummy like fresh ground round.
willow oh willow.
how we love thee.

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I’d rather hear about the zit on your nose than a nytimes magazine slick perfect life.

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I need to get a tattoo on the palm of my hand so when I run into people I can wave and they can read my tattoo which will say: “Even though I may get your name wrong, I still care. I promise.”

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I put on a bit too much patchouli today.

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I realize this is a first world problem but I’m gonna say it anyway. Nothing against my friends who work at walmart but I’m convinced that Walmart hires mystery shoppers whose sole purpose in life is to fuck up whatever checkout lane you’re in so no matter how high falutin and lofty your goals are in refusing to use the self checkout, eventually you cave in and give up your prized place in line and accept the dehumanizing path that will eventually make all human cashier jobs extinct.

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i think i could live on hummus and tomatoes. good tomatoes. not those crappy, mealy ones with no flavor. and i would build my little adobe or possibly tiny house on the hummus/tomato concoction. i might throw in a glutino cracker now and then for variety’s sake but that’s about it. cats and dogs would be essential. possibly a chicken or two but really i could just live on it and i wouldn’t even need internet or a smartphone. nope. just me and the hummus/tomato. i’d take baths in it, brush my teeth with it. wash the floor with it. i’d be very happy.