Category: Uncategorized

Guaranteed to Raise Your Blood Pressure—Just Add Customer Service

My cardiologist told me that I need to lower my blood pressure.
 I would love to do that—sadly, there’s no magic button or app on my phone that can make it happen.

I work in customer service, and let me tell you: working in customer service is practically a guarantee that your blood pressure will be high. It might as well come with a sticker that says “100% Guaranteed.”

Customer-facing jobs have never been easy or appreciated much. You need a strong personality to last in them. Apparently, I have one—I’ve been in this industry for over thirty years.

This week, our phones were out for a day due to a VOIP outage. Honestly, it was kind of great for a few hours… until they started working again. Then the ringing didn’t stop.

Technically, not a problem. But the first call I was lucky enough to answer?

No greeting. No polite chit chat. I was immediately yelled at.

I asked the customer to explain the issue, and she just kept yelling. I asked again, politely, but she continued, yelling about a conversation she’d had with someone else in the office—five days ago.

I tried to stop her to ask her name (which she never gave me, too busy yelling), and I explained I couldn’t continue a conversation I wasn’t part of. That only made her yell louder.

I wear hearing aids, so yelling on the phone goes straight to my ears—and it hurts. I asked her kindly to stop yelling. She didn’t. She just hung up.

I’ve been yelled at by customers before—this wasn’t new to me or my blood pressure. But I’m always perplexed when people think yelling or being rude will help them get better service.

In my experience, kindness goes a long way.

To my cardiologist’s chagrin—and my blood pressure’s detriment—I’m still here at my job. And I can’t wait for the next person to raise it.

#CustomerServiceLife #YouCantMakeThisUp #behindtheadmindesk #customerservicestories

The Seven-Year Airedale vs. Corgi War (Now in Its Eighth Year)

My previous dog passed away last year. She had a bitter rivalry with a small but feisty corgi down the street. There was never any actual interaction between them — not even a sniff — but that didn’t stop the drama. The feud began when the corgi, who sleeps by a front window, barked at her one day as we walked past. And just like that, the war began. The now-legendary Seven-Year Airedale vs. Corgi War.

Whenever we passed by the corgi’s house, he’d go wild. When the corgi passed by our house, our Airedale would lose her mind. And so it continued, a battle of barks and glares, until the day our girl passed away.

This year, we adopted a rescue — a gentle giant with a heart full of love and a history of abuse. She’s anxious, scared of her own shadow, and doesn’t bark or jump at windows. That is… until she met the corgi.

One day, we walked past the corgi’s house. He barked at us like always — and something changed. Our sweet, timid rescue perked up. The ancient war reawakened. Somehow, some way, the vendetta had passed on. Now, every time we even approach the corgi’s house, she’s alert and ready. She’s never barked, but you can feel the energy shift. I swear I hear “Let’s get ready to rumble” in my head every time we round the corner.

We don’t encourage the feud. We cross the street to avoid it. But our girl is always ready, as if she’s been briefed on this rivalry since day one.

I actually talked to the corgi’s owner last week and we laughed about it. He admitted it’s probably his dog’s fault — apparently, the little guy is a menace to all dogs who dare walk past his window. Maybe our new girl picked up on our energy. Maybe she inherited the rivalry. Who knows? It’s probably a bit of both.

For now, the Seven—now Eight—Year War between the Airedale and the Corgi continues. Maybe one day, someone will write a history book about it, and their legacy will live on.

#DogLife #RescueDog #AiredaleTerrier #CorgiDrama #DogRivalry #DogStories
#PetBehavior #LifeWithDogs #DogFeuds #FunnyDogStories
#NeighborhoodDrama #LetTheDogsBark #EpicDogFeud #PawliticalConflict #SmallDogBigAttitude #TaleOfTwoDogs #DogLove #PetLegacy #NewBeginnings #FromGriefToHealing #BondBeyondWords #DogsAreFamily #BlogPost #TrueStory #DogBlog #AnimalTales #PetLife

Gravity, Weight Loss, and a Really Good Bra

Weight loss is a funny thing, but then again, so is gravity. As we get older, gravity becomes even funnier. Our skin loses its elasticity, our asses start to sag, and if we have tattoos, they begin shifting like the continents. Those perky 90-degree boobs start to resemble a geometric puzzle.

I often joke that one way to combat that is by tying my boobs to my ass, thinking it might create some equilibrium. Alas, I digress.

When you combine aging with weight loss, gravity plays an even bigger role. I’ve lost 30 pounds this past year (yes, I’m on Wegovy), but no, it wasn’t done out of vanity. I have several autoimmune diseases that took a toll on my body. After the weight loss, my blood tests and heart tests are looking better, and surprisingly, even my IBS has improved. All my doctors are happy, and let’s be honest, I live to make my doctors happy.

The 30 pounds are quite noticeable on my five-foot-nothing frame, and gravity noticed it too. Last weekend, I ran into an acquaintance I hadn’t seen in a while. She commented on my weight loss, but instead of saying, “You look great!” she said, “I can tell you lost weight because your boobs are saggy.” I started laughing—not from embarrassment, but because I found it funny.

This acquaintance had a breast reduction, so she’s very observant about other people’s breasts. I think we tend to judge or observe others based on the things we’re most unhappy about, and that impacts how we see people and life in general. She didn’t mean to be rude, and I don’t think she even realized it was.

Yes, gravity has taken its toll on my body, and weight loss has combined with it in ways that aren’t exactly fun. But I accept it with grace—and a really good bra.

#WeightLossJourney #GravityGotMe #BoobsAndButt #AgingGracefully

#WegovyJourney #WeightLossRealTalk #EmbraceTheSag #TalesOfGravity

#BodyPositiveHumor #AcceptanceAndHumor #AutoimmuneAwareness

#LaughingThroughLife #PerkyToPuzzled #SaggyButHappy

Bread Trucks and Blood Pressure: Finding Humor in Life’s Challenges

funny. You see, I’m a Celiac — I can’t eat gluten because of an autoimmune disease. I was diagnosed with it as a “birthday gift” on my 39th birthday, and as a former carb-lover, giving up bread and pasta wasn’t easy. Back in the day, gluten-free options were hard to come by and, frankly, not very tasty. And, let’s be honest, gluten-free bread is still the size of a postage stamp.

Life these days is hectic, crazy, and sometimes full of stress. Lately, work has only made it worse. My cardiologist told me I need to lower my blood pressure. I asked him how to do that when people around me constantly annoy me and drive me crazy. I’m still waiting for a solid answer to that question.

I try not to take everything too seriously — not because I think life is a joke, but because we’re all dealing with serious things. We need to find humor in what surrounds us. Unfortunately, that doesn’t seem to help much with my blood pressure.

Losing my hearing was tough. I went through the stages of grief because losing such an important sense impacts my quality of life and everyday well-being. But five years later, when people ask how it affects me, I joke that it’s actually a blessing for my husband — I don’t hear any of his annoying remarks anymore.

So, having a bread truck full of gluten following me around was pretty funny. Who knows, maybe it’ll even show up in my dreams tonight.

#GlutenFreeHumor #CeliacLife #FindingTheFunny #LaughThroughTheStruggles
#CeliacWarrior #HealthWithHumor #BreadTruckChronicles #AutoimmuneLife #GlutenFreeJourney #StressAndLaughter

Our Foster Fail: The Story of Shuki, Our Gentle Giant

We fostered a rescue dog several months ago with the intent to “foster fail” and adopt her. Happily, we did fail at fostering, and now she shares our last name.

Our Shuki girl was rescued from a house that did not feed or give water to her and her siblings. She was extremely malnourished and very suspicious when we got her. Feeding time was like a piranha frenzy in the Amazon. She ate her food so quickly, you could barely count the seconds, out of fear that it would be taken from her. She gulped water the same way, creating big, messy puddles all around her.

She’s been with us for almost three months now, and we love her dearly. In that time, we’ve seen her grow from a fearful, malnourished pup into a sweet, cuddly companion. She is a big cuddler, unlike our previous dog, and seeks pets and attention quite a lot. She’s also scared of many things, especially big white cars. We suspect her abuser had a car like this.

Shuki knows many commands at this point and understands them in two languages. She is a very smart girl.

This week, however, we had a scary incident. Some kids came fast behind her on a walk with motorized scooters, and it freaked her out. She was so scared that she broke the leash and ran away. We panicked. Since she’d only been with us for three months, we weren’t sure where she would run to and were afraid she’d get hit by a car—or worse.

An emergency family phone call ensued, and we all went looking for her, worried sick. We found her about 10 minutes later—or better yet, she found us. She ran home, and luckily my husband was close by. He saw her and opened the door for her to enter the house. On the Ring camera, you can see her calmly walking into the house, while we were all in a panic.

Shuki girl ran home. She ran back to a place where she felt safe, secure, and loved.

There’s a common “Three, Three, Three” rule for rescue dogs. It means: three days to decompress, three weeks to learn the house routines, and three months to feel fully at home. We are very happy that she found her way home and that she considers our home her safe place. She’s a gentle giant, and we’re hopeful that she’ll be with us for many more years to come. But we could certainly do with fewer scary moments like that one!

Surveys, Feedback, and the Silence That Follows

Every year, my employer sends out an anonymous survey to gather employee feedback, but I can’t help but wonder why they even bother. It’s supposed to be a chance for employees to voice their thoughts, yet nothing ever seems to change—and I’m not sure anyone even believes it’s anonymous.

The first time I filled out the survey, I was the only one in the company with my unique position, so my feedback was easily identifiable. In the comments section, I pointed out that the survey couldn’t truly be anonymous for someone in my position. Little did they know, that was just the beginning of me becoming a “thorn” in their side.

Since then, I’ve continued to fill out the survey honestly, even though I know no one really cares about my feedback. I figured out how to make the sections for areas of improvement larger. One year, I copy-pasted my MBA thesis on leadership—full of practical advice for change—just to see if anyone would notice. It was a thesis that earned a distinction, yet still, nothing changed.

I love my job, and I genuinely like the people I work with, which is why I’m still here after many years. But I can’t help but question the purpose of these surveys. Are they just for show so the company can tick a box and say they care? Or are there companies out there that actually listen to their employees and take meaningful action?

I know this conversation has probably been had many times before, and some companies do genuinely care about their employees. But for me, I’m still not sure.

Beyond the Resume: Seeking Independence and Fulfillment

I’ve spent the last several days at home, taking care of my dog while she recovered from surgery. With all this downtime, I decided to tackle a few projects. One of those was updating my resume. I typically update it twice a year—not because I’m actively job hunting, but to ensure my information stays current and to keep up with new technology. After all, it never hurts to have an updated resume, as you never know what might come up.

But as I was updating my resume, a thought struck me—why am I doing this? What’s the point of updating my resume? Am I actively looking for a new job or a career change?

I’m in my mid-fifties, and I’ve started to think more seriously about what my future holds. The idea of working for a corporation no longer feels as appealing as it once did. So, am I looking for a new career? Not necessarily. What I’m really seeking is independence. I want financial stability, a place where my skills, knowledge, and life experience are valued and appreciated.

How do you update your resume when you’ve been in the workforce for many years, especially when you’re told it should only be one page? And with age discrimination at play, a longer resume can easily make you a target.

Did I update my resume? No, I didn’t. Instead, I decided to take a brain pause—to step back and really think about what I want for my future. It’s not about rushing into another job or career change, but about aligning my next steps with my values and goals for independence and fulfillment.

March to Your Own Beet!

March to Your Own Beet!

Life is sometimes about patience and constant growth, following an unknown path, and trusting your instincts. It doesn’t have to be something huge or life-changing, but rather something small that can bring you joy and an opportunity to celebrate even the smallest achievements for yourself.

I own a small house in California. I don’t have a huge backyard, but rather a small patio with just enough space for container gardening, a BBQ, and a small patio set. I’ve always dreamed about having a big backyard so I could garden. For some reason, I enjoy plants. I’m not a great gardener, but I’m a happy one.

I planted tomatoes and peppers from scraps leftover from making salad, grew an avocado tree from the pit, and generally enjoyed schlepping around and playing in the dirt. I also have a great love for garden centers—Lowes and Armstrong were always my favorites.

Last year, I became a little more ambitious and planted two types of eggplant. My optimism also led me to buy beet seeds. I thought, “What could happen? If they grow, they grow; if not, the packet was only a dollar ninety-nine, and I had fun.”

To my pure joy, leaves sprouted, and I watched my beet grow from a tiny plant to one with huge leaves. Every day, I checked on it, making sure it was growing, and trying to figure out when it was time to harvest. Yes, I could’ve Googled it, but instead, I decided to follow my own instinct. A year later, I have beets—and I am extremely excited.

I’m very well aware that buying beets at the store is easy, cheap, and convenient. But there’s something so special about seeing something grow from a seed to a full-blown plant that I harvested today.

Some days are all about the little things that make you happy—those small achievements that no one else may notice or care about, but they still manage to put a smile on your face and make you want to march to your own beet!

Facing Reality: My Journey from Out-of-Shape to Reclaiming My Fitness”

Today I discovered that I am an out-of-shape middle-aged woman. I knew I was middle-aged, so that was not really a surprise. The “out of shape” part, however, kind of threw me for a loop.

I started seeing a cardiologist, as it was suggested to me that, at my advanced age, I need to establish a relationship with one. It was a suggestion I listened to and actually followed through on.

I met with the cardiologist, took a heart calcium scan, and had a stress test performed. I walk almost eleven thousand steps a day, do Pilates Reformer three times a week, eat a mostly healthy vegetarian diet, and I’m usually on the move even at work. I also lost almost thirty pounds this past year. So, I thought I would do great on the stress test—alas, I was wrong.

I used to hike a lot. I climbed all the way to the top of the Moon Pyramid in Mexico when it was still allowed, did part of the Great Wall of China, and climbed all the way up to the Pantheon on Lindos, just eight months after breaking my leg. This past summer, I biked for fourteen miles in Alaska—downhill, but I think it still counts! But apparently, all of this wasn’t enough. I am out of shape.

Naturally, I questioned this, and according to the experts, I’ve been neglecting my cardio. I thought that walking was cardio, but apparently, it’s not enough—at least not for my body.

So now comes the proactive part: how do I improve my sad state of cardio without killing myself and still enjoy it? This is a really tough question, as I hate going to the gym. I really do. I also hate running; I firmly believe that running can be uncomfortable for those of us with larger chests—it’s just not pleasant.

I already do Reformer Pilates, but that’s focused on core strength. Now, the cardio part needs to kick in. My middle child is getting married, and there’s hope for grandkids in the future, so getting in shape is a priority. The big question is: exactly how?

When I was younger, I loved biking, so I guess I’ll be biking once again. I think short hikes—with and without the dog—are destined for my future as well. And I believe I’ll also add at least one great date a week with the elliptical at the gym.

I’ll continue being middle-aged, at least for a while, but that won’t stop me from getting back in shape.

The Oscars, Celebrities, and My Inner ‘Old Lady’ No Filter

I didn’t watch the Oscars last night—honestly, I’ve never watched any award show. I find them pretty funny, in a way. It’s a bunch of people voting for themselves, giving out awards that in real life no one really cares about.

Sure, I’m sure it’s nice to see some fancy dresses, but as a woman who hates uncomfortable clothes, I really couldn’t care less about the outfits. And the speeches? Don’t get me started. The winners stand up and give these pretentious speeches that I just can’t be bothered with.

Movies aren’t my passion. I don’t have the patience to watch anything that lasts more than an hour, and even then, I’m only able to do so if I’m multitasking—like folding laundry. In fact, the only movies I’ve watched in the past couple of years were on planes. I was literally held captive 30,000 feet in the air with nothing else to do.

Honestly, all these award shows and the obsession with what actors have to say feel like a little bit of idol worship. And in my opinion, these are really false idols. Just because someone is on TV or in a movie doesn’t mean they have anything meaningful to say or offer.

Maybe this is because I’m getting older and losing patience with pretentious people, or maybe it’s just that my inner “old lady” with no filters is finally emerging. Either way, I’m starting to embrace it. Honestly, it’s kind of liberating.