Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yoga. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 3, 2026

Keeping the Beasts at Bay: Rewiring My Anger Algorithm

Anyone who knows me in real life would probably describe me as feisty. I've noticed throughout my life that people like to use adjectives to describe me that are quite similar to those used to describe a terrier. Loyal but tenacious and sassy, lovable but stubborn. Definitely feisty. 

Living through this particular period in history is not easy for us feisty people. It's hard not to get pissed off by all the shenanigans today, in particular in the U.S. I try desperately to avoid discussing politics on this blog, but today's topic is less about the piss-poor state of our country, thanks to Shitler (Oops, sorry). It's more around how the constant onslaught of it impacts my life. 

Actually, it's about how I allow it to impact my life. My brain, my choice, but more on that later. 

Studies show that talking out loud eases mental anxiety and strife because your brain recognizes its own voice, so talking through things verbally actually does help calm your brain. Here's a Time article on it. This one was an easy one to adopt because I've always talked to myself.

Often, Laura, my daughter, will hear these conversations from downstairs. Sometimes things get heated. I like to do color commentary when watching the news on my SONOS device in my kitchen, and add helpful comments like, "Oh, you would say that, you lying sack of shit!" That could be directed at multiple players at this point, but you get the picture. 


Safe to say that my Alexa could definitely sue me for emotional abuse, as a lot of my ire is often misdirected at her when she doesn't understand me. I often hear, "Here's what I found on the web, Jesus Christ was the son of...." which, of course, just cues up my next angry outburst. 

One day, I found this account on Instagram that focuses on using real medical principles, like neuroscience, to explain how to overcome various physical or mental struggles (grief, menopause, anxiety, etc.). Michael Hunter, an author, runs the account and has a background in eastern medicine. Anyway, what he said in regards to anger really made sense.

In this video,  he talks about the anger algorithm, and I realized, I have that! He explains how you inadvertently "feed" your anger algorithm by doing seemingly innocuous activities like WATCHING THE NEWS!! Sorry, that might have been a bit of a social commentary on the pathetic state of affairs these days, but what I realized is that all my social media has adjusted to my anger algorithm and is spoon-feeding me anger-inducing content throughout the day. 

He couldn't have been more right. I have been inadvertently feeding my anger without really knowing I was doing it. Perhaps the non-Terriers of the world can watch the news, read the articles, and not get enraged, but I know it is very hard for me to do so. And, let's face it: it's hard to even focus on one thing to be angry at. It almost consumes me trying to keep track ot it.

Blame old age, perimenopausal brain fog, or just a shitty memory, but I'm having trouble keeping track of everything that's going on.  We are getting scandal-bombed at such a pace that it's nearly impossible to stay focused on just one offense. 

The greatest thing is that he teaches ways to trick your own brain and nervous system to rewire itself and focus on positive things in your life. Such great advice, and yes, I am going to try these.

In this video, he actually talks about how constant anger actually impacts the hippocampus and can basically "fry your brain." I don't know about you, but I'm operating at diminished mental capacity to begin with, so any degradation is best avoided. 

The bottom line is, though, I can vote, protest, donate, and share my views on politics, but I can't go down the anger spiral. I will continue to make sure my daughter (and neices when in ear shot) are aware of the changes that are happening and why they should NOT be okay with them. I know Laura really appreciates the lectures. 🤣


Rewiring the algorithm

Once a terrier, always a terrier, but I am going to try some of these mental exercises, but I also need to double-down-(dog 😉) on yoga as it always help to still my mind and relieve a lot of the physical tension that creeps up throughout the day.

It's hard to focus on other things right now. I hear that "Special News Alert" music and I feel an absolute sense of panic. Again. But, I'm committed to not letting it get the best of me. 

I think the tide has turned and things will improve. Signs are there, so I am moving forward hoping the worst is behind us. Who's in?

Spring is right around the corner. I've already played outside tennis this year. It's not dark at 4 pm anymore. Alright, enough with the positivity, you get it.  

Forge on, my friends. 

Feisty Barb


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Sunday, December 7, 2025

Building a Better Barb

How's that for an end-of-the-year blog title? Who needs a New Year's resolution when you cap off the previous year with a bold statement like that? Making such a bold proclamation can mean only one thing: I'm really serious. And now you all are witnesses,  there's no turning back. 

I'm sure you are curious where this is coming from, so I will tell you: it turns out this aging thing is real. I have seen evidence of this fact all around me; however, I have somehow avoided most of the pitfalls of this reality. I still wake up feeling good, no aches or pains. I can still do all the things I love to do: walking my two dogs twice daily, playing tennis, traveling, skiing, and biking. I even had the chance to scuba dive the Great Barrier Reef this year (a bucket list item) for the first time in over a decade. Bottom line: I still got it. 


That said, there are signs. For one, no one gasps when I tell them I'm 60. I pause to give them ample time to properly react and say something along the lines of "no way you're that old" or something similar. It used to happen, but now I notice a lack of shock on their faces. I used to think 60 was old. Now my feelings have changed. Sure it's old for some people, but not me!

I have said it before; mentally, I'm about 27. According to Spotify Unwrapped, I'm only 17. This is all to say, how can my chronological age be so off? 

HRT to the Rescue

One thing that was slowing my roll was perimenopause, something I was both late getting and woefully unprepared for. In the spring, I noticed I wasn't sleeping well, something I'm really good at. Sleeping is one of the love languages, so it was concerning. 

Often, I would wake up all sweaty, go to the bathroom, and then get back in bed just to have my head spin about every possible disaster scenario it could conjure up. Probably as a result of my not getting adequate sleep, I noticed I was getting lit fast. My temper was quickly going from 1 to 10. Let's face it; there's an awful lot to rage about these days. Don't get me started...

I was also getting hot flashes and other symptoms, so when I went to my primary care doctor for my annual visit, I mentioned the sweating and the rage issues. She asked if I would be interested in Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT). 

Well, holy hell. What the actual fuck? My symptoms vanished almost immediately; I started sleeping soundly again, but it begged the question: Why are women not put on this treatment the second the first flash hits them? Or right after the first month of non-sleep and the raging that comes as a result. 

God knows now that the XGeners are hitting the "pause," there's no lack of information on social media and online about perimenopause. You would think we invented it. For the long, silent boomers who suffered through this for decades without talking about it? We don't thank you, but sorry. 

I didn't even have most of the more serious effects of the oncoming menopause, the brain fog, joint pain, and a host of other not-so-great symptoms.  I have friends who have suffered for over a decade with symptoms. Some were leery as a result of old studies that indicated a link between some cancers and HRT.

Fortunately, those studies have been debunked, and even the government agrees and has removed the black box warnings on HRT medicines. And that agency is led by an absolutely crazy idiot, but don't get me started on that. 

I'm donning my feminist hat for a minute to say: If men were impacted, they would be handing out estrogen patches and progesterone tabs for free on every street corner or pharmacy. Let's face it: if men were impacted by half of the physical challenges women face as part of simply being a woman, the world would be radically different. Tampons, like toilet paper, would be free in public bathrooms, and a diagnosed case of PMS would be grounds for dismissal of most violent crimes.


So I'm talking directly to all those women who are bravely rawdogging perimenopause: What are you waiting for?? There is no prize or compensation at the end for you, and studies are indicating that the benefits (reduced heart disease, for example) are best reaped when HRT is started within 10 years of the onset of symptoms.

I'm assuming some of these women are the same ones who brag about not using painkillers during childbirth, the mother martyrs. We all know a few of them. I was a max-dosage deliverer myself, which goes back to my "scream-before-it-hurts" methodology. 

The bottom line: Being a woman isn't easy. Our equipment is 10X more complicated than men's because we create life. There is nothing more powerful than that. Period, or in this case, no period. 

I would say we all owe it to ourselves to take the easy path whenever possible. And, heads up, there are not a whole lot of these easy paths ahead, my friends, so take it! 

Do yourself a favor and watch this video. Dr. Roy Casagranda discusses the evolution of our species and the incredibly important role as teachers we play as women after we transition into menopause. The only other species on the planet besides humans that have this transition are sperm whales and chimps.

Time for PT

At that same doctor visit, I mentioned that I had some concerns about my knees. I'm pretty tough and don't complain a lot, but my knees are important as I love tennis and skiing, and both require full function. So she wrote me a script for 12 weeks of physical therapy (PT).

At my first appointment, I filled out the questionnaire for my therapist, a very serious young woman. The questions were like "on a scale of 1 to 10, how hard is it to...get out of bed, get off the toilet, tie your shoes, etc. I didn't have any pain or difficulty doing any of the activities.

After reviewing my answers, she seemed confused. So you're not in pain and have no issues doing any of the normal daily activities? It turns out most people seek physical therapy AFTER they are injured.

Being a very small person, I've always been a big believer in crying out in pain well in advance of the actual pain. Wards off the eventual suffering that way. This is basically the same thing. When asked about pain, I said "not yet," and told her about my knee feeling "different." Like everything is working, but maybe not everything is correctly assembled? 

When she asked what my ultimate goals were, I immediately said that I want to be able to play tennis and ski mountains in my 80s. She almost cracked a smile before she realized I was being serious. I have a mom, if you all remember, who can still beat me on a tennis court, ski, has 7 hole-in-ones in golf, and does pilates twice a week. I wrote about her in this blog

The truth is that I want to be ahead of what's changing, and I'm happy I did. What I learned is that my body, like everyone else's, is unique. What I needed to work on is different; my IT band, for example, is very unforgiving, even more so than the rest of my rather rigid body, so she showed me specific exercises to do after tennis, for example.

I was a star pupil and learned a lot about what my body needs to stay strong and active, so I encourage all of you to fake an injury and try physical therapy. Just kidding, but seriously, get to know your body and what you need to do to keep it going. 

Training with Sherrie

Some of you know that my little sister is a personal trainer, so she has been on me for years to start training with her. Now, for those of you with siblings, can you imagine anything worse than being trained by that sister you tortured as a child? 

She has always been freakishly strong and, despite being a few years younger, was always bigger and stronger than I was. When we were young, I would assign Sherrie to be the horse who had to carry me around on her back as a fun game. She was happy as long as she could play with me. That said, you can imagine why I was a bit reluctant to take her up on her offer to train me. Paybacks, as they say, are a bitch.

Fortunately, it appeared that her desire was to help, not payback. Thank God! Laura and I have both done a few sessions with her, with instructions on how to do the same at home. She is as strong as an ox, so she does as she speaks. She always says, "You're never too old to get strong." Preach!

The reality is that multiple studies are showing that there is no age limit to getting stronger. One study actually showed that people over 65 who lift heavy weights regularly can actually build bone! Lifting can also help with cognitive decline and decrease the odds of injury.

Yoga is another great activity that helps with flexibility and balance (both things us sassy seniors need more of)  and can help with mood and stress.

A final bottom line: we can all defy the aging process to some extent. It just takes a conscious effort to do so and persistence, so don't just take it. FIGHT IT! Getting old is for lazy losers! 

I'll close by quoting Nike: "Just do it."

Happy Holidays

Sorry for the long gap between blogs, but I've been on a tear since mid-September, having a ball and traveling the world, so perhaps a travel blog is in my future. We have several months of shitty, cold weather on tap, so that means more blogs to come! 

I hope everyone has a lovely holiday, whichever ones you happen to celebrate, and 2026 brings you a stronger body and good health. 

All the best and until next time, my friends,

Barb


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Sunday, January 15, 2023

Bored Barb Takes up Yoga

Nope, not me. For those of you who don't know my mother, also Barb, consider this blog post your official introduction to the amazing matriarch of our family.  Certainly doesn't seem blog-worthy to write about my mom taking up yoga, but then again it wouldn't be if it wasn't her doing it.

I'm sure you remember my first foray into yoga. I chronicled my own yoga adventures at the beginning of the pandemic in my very first blog post back in 2020. From that blog: 

For years, I've watched as the flood of skinny bitches pour out the yoga studio at the gym. Clearly they are onto something.  I am quite the expert at wearing yoga pants (and leisurewear, in general) so I really felt like this was going to be the perfect at-home workout. 


I downloaded a free Peloton app, grabbed a mat and donned the garb. Unfortunately for someone who has never even come close to touching my own toes, this pursuit was a stretch...quite literally. I still have PTSD from the stupid Presidential Fitness Tests we were subjected to in grade school; my flexibility was notably bad. Certainly made me question whether I was built for this, but what the hell?


I'm not going to lie, there was a lot more sweating and shaking than I would have thought. And, contorting my uncooperative rigid limbs  in some of those positions — while also trying to crane my neck to see how the skinny bitch instructor was doing it — was akin to a playing a demented game of Twister that no one wins. My dogs watched with what appeared concern. My left shoulder is now spasming and my right buttock  hurts, but overall it felt pretty good. 


It was definitely touch and go initially, for both my rigid limbs and my dogs who both thought it was "Mommy and me" time on the mat and not yoga. I have improved slightly though still can't touch my toes. 


Being raised by a jock


My mom was born a natural athlete, meaning she can pick up nearly any sport and be good at it very quickly. My dad was also a good athlete but one who studied hard at it. Read everything, videotaped himself so he could study his motion, golf or tennis swing, and then methodically plot how he could get better. Not mom; she can just watch someone do something and mimic it naturally.


She's ambidextrous! When she wants to mess with someone, she simply changes the hand she's playing with. Talk about a mind fuck on a tennis court! 


She was the first female Little League player in the state of Arkansas back in the 50s. She got a hole in one on the golf course…7 times!! Not a typo.


She is just amazing at every sport she does, which is all the more surprising because she got sick when she was a baby and was hospitalized and didn't grow for an entire year. That is actually why she's short in stature; her twin brother and father were both 6 feet tall. 

Despite being barely over 5-feet herself, it never stopped her from competing and winning in sports her whole life.  Below is a picture from one of the many tennis tournaments she won as a kid. She's the one rocking the crop top before that was fashionable. FYI: she is the same age as the other kids in the picture. Not sure what to say about that haircut.





While I adore her, It wasn't always easy having a mom who can do every sport better than you. It's the reason neither my sister or I took up tennis until our 40s, despite having spent much of our childhoods hanging out by tennis courts while she played. Why take up a sport that you'll never beat your own mom at? I mean she's pushing 80 but I've officially given up the hope of ever beating her at tennis. 


I remember being 7 or so and being fearful of jumping off the diving board at the local pool. I mounted the board a few times before bailing in fear. Then my mom casually walks up to the diving board and with absolutely no preamble does a flip off it. Then a back flip. What? I mean I was aware she could swim but really? 


When she decided it was time for me to learn how to swim, she didn't bother teaching me or signing me up for lessons. She just signed me up for the local swim team. Didn't matter that I could only swim the width of the pool. "You'll get better," she assured me. I believe the term "baptism by fire" works here but hey, a few weeks later and many tearful pleas to quit, and boom: I learned how to swim. That was Parenting 101 Barb-style. 


Then I remember trying to learn how to water ski. My poor, very patient dad would drag me behind his boat for an hour but my little "Olive Oyl" arms could not muster the strength to pull my 75-pound frame out of the water. I cried, begging to get back in the boat. 


Shortly after that, my mom takes her turn, popping up within seconds and then within a few minutes, kicking off one ski and going slalom. What the...? All 3 of us kids looked at each other in bewilderment. Didn't they just buy these things? 


You can lead the horse to water...


I have tried since 2020 to get my mom to try yoga. She was getting increasingly bored being stuck at home and I thought it was the perfect way for her to stay busy and thought maybe the meditation part would be a good thing for her as well. 


As you might be able to tell she has the boundless energy so not being able to do all her various activities was making her a little crazy. I'm sure many of you enjoyed the pandemic videos she made and posted to Facebook. This one was one of my favs.





So I must say when she said she was ready to try yoga, I was excited to see how it would go. With no ball involved or thing to swing, I thought we might finally have arrived to a level playing field. 


Over the Christmas holiday, I spent a week visiting my parents, and daily Mom and I did yoga. It was fun and I must admit pleasantly surprising to see that there's at least one thing Barb Jones doesn't do well. Turns out she has the flexibility of a 2 X 4 (her words) and not stellar balance; both important things to have as we get older. After I left, she took a few classes. Review below.




Comedy aside, I'm quite certain that Barb Jones will become a yogi of stellar status. She never backs away from a challenge so I won't be the least bit suprised when she morphs into Rubberband Nana after a few months. 

Later this week on January 20th, my mom turns 79. Please join me in wishing this crazy lady and amazing mother a very Happy Birthday. Love you, Mom! 

Hope everyone's year is off to a good start and this finds you all happy, healthy and hopeful that 2023 will be an epic (in a good way) year.

Happy New Year,

Barb

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Sunday, April 12, 2020

Online Dating in your 50s: Tips and Tricks

Honestly I have enough material to write a book on this subject. I might actually do that at some point but let's just say this will probably be the first of many that touch on the subject of dating. Note: NO, I am not currently dating or on dating apps because of the quarantine but the following is based on years of extensive on-the-job reporting on the subject.

A lot of people ask me how do I do it? I'm never quite sure what they mean. It's really pretty simple; you get on these dating apps, write a profile, upload some pics, and then you scroll through and swipe (left-no/yes-right). Easy stuff. Supply is never an issue. I am one of those girls that about 95% of men think they have a pretty good chance with so I've never had an issue of finding men to date.

I think what most people mean by the question is how can I put myself out there. I know this part is hard for most people and it always a gamble. But I'm absolutely socially fearless, most likely the result of years of changing schools as a kid every 3-4 years. After you have survived walking the gauntlet of a school lunch room filled with complete strangers, there is literally nothing you can't brave socially. 

The upside of the experience had given me the super power of being able to strike up and carry on a conversation with a tree or other inanimate object.  I have had more than a couple dates during which this skill came in handy.

Online dating certainly did not intimidate me. It was quite literally a reality for me, as my work-from-home situation made meeting men in my new city impossible.  I think one of the things that took me by surprise initially was just how confident men in general were. Even the most beautiful women in the world can look into a mirror and spot a myriad of imperfections. Ones that really bother them. Not men.
 
A pudgy bald dude on the other hand, can look in the mirror and think, "Damn, I'm a handsome man." Men on dating sites also think they look particularly badass when they are in their car for some reason. Maybe it's a "Fast & Furious" thing? Add sunglasses and wow, now they are even hotter. Not really, but they appear to think so. Men who wear sunglasses in their main profile pic warrant an automatic left swipe. As do bathroom selfies (no clue why this is a thing), Trump supporters, and don't even start me on duck faces. Guys, just no.
Double deduction: in a bathroom doing the duck face. Nope.

I am quite sure this is why God made pattern balding a problem only men had to deal with. A bad haircut will put most women over the edge so I can only imagine that the crippling fear of impending hair loss would be more than most women could endure. Biological payback: we already do the heavy lifting in terms of making new people. Menstruation and menopause. A lifetime with a full head of hair seems the least of what we deserve for keeping the population going.


An example of some of the shenanigans I deal with. I can't share the rest.

Obviously being confident is a good thing, but unfortunately it also prevents men from being able to be honest in their assessment of themselves physically. The term "fit and athletic" is apparently largely subjective. Sometimes this apparently means, "I was an athlete in high school." A tip off is when they included a picture of themselves in their football uniform from high school in their profile. Definitely a flag, but just one of many. Add pics taken from above (as if from a mysterious drone) and no full-body pictures. Tragically, or perhaps ironically, these guys are usually just as cocky as they were when they were actually fit and athletic.

This guy emailed me on some dating website. After reading his profile it was obvious we were meant for each other. 

Not sure what this means, but I also seem to have a real knack for picking up men post-peak. I once dated a guy for several years who had worked for a major bank for 30 years, only to be laid off a few months after I met him. Now he is a part-time painter trying to break into acting. You might have seen him on one of the TV shows filmed here: Chicago Fire, Med or PD. He's the mute red-headed bartender, prisoner picking up trash, chef, etc. Mute because if you talk, they have to pay you $1,000. He's now taking acting classes so awesome plan, right? What actors weren't discovered in their 50s?

Another was a hedge fund manager who made six figures before hitting 30 and bought a sick condo overlooking the lake. Today, he's a part-time yoga instructor with an anxiety disorder and a "weed" card. At least he still has that condo! 

Yet another was a very successful contractor (this was a pandemic date) who I learned after a few dates lives in a warehouse. Yes, you heard that right. He lives in a warehouse in an industrial park. Don't get me wrong; I'm sure it's a totally pimped-out setup, but again, his address is an industrial park. Ok, next. 

Many of the guys I have dated have ex wives living in McMansions in the burbs while they live in shitty studio apartments in the city. I've seen enough of these lovely bachelor cribs to declare no more away games. One date showed up on a skateboard. Another asked for train fare home. I had one actually tell me he had decided to "transition" to a woman. What can I say? I know how to pick 'em!

Much more on that topic as it is an ongoing story...

Flattening the damn curve...finally

I guess I would be remiss to not mention this whole virus quarantine thing. How is everyone doing? I continue to enjoy my daily dog walks, getting outside is essential. I'm encouraged that we seem to be flattening out the old curve. Hopefully a few more weeks of madness and we can slowly try to go back to normal life.


I think what worries me the most is how if life going to be different? No festivals? Concerts? What about hugging? Are we ever going to be able to hug again or is that going to be forever socially tainted? Lots of questions but life goes on. This all too shall pass.

I'm happy to report I have progressed from "really bad" to just "bad" in yoga so yeah! Many of the poses I can now do, just no poses the involve "folding" of any kind. My body continues to insist on remaining unfolded. Dogs are now respecting my space, probably because I'm now using my yoga blocks as weapons.  I think it has slowed my mind a bit, which is a good thing right now. I send you all positive vibes.

Until next time.

Barb

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Saturday, March 28, 2020

6 Tips on Working From Home


I know, I know. You are all just in shock that you are being gifted once more with a blog from Barb. It's my CoronaVirus gift to you all. You missed the first one? No worries, read "It's About Damn Time" here

So knowing full well that you are all sitting around doing nothing has spurred me to action. I am like an obnoxious, attention-starved kid at a large family gathering who has finally gotten everyone's attention. I gotta strike while the attentive irons are hot.

So many of you are now being forced to work from home so I thought with my two decades of experience with this, I could pass along some true gems of knowledge as well as some best practices born from years of trial and error.

1. You're not really hungry. Just because your workspace is in close proximity to your kitchen does not mean you should be eating more. When I first starting working from home, it was like I could hear a voice summoning me to the refrigerator. Throughout the day I would find myself standing in front of the open fridge. Since I did all the grocery shopping, there were no surprises in there and yet here I stand. Am I hungry? I just ate a few hours ago. A month and five pounds later, I decided I needed a plan in place. So now I bribe myself; if I work for two hours without getting up, I reward myself with a treat.

2. You don't really have to pee again.
 I call this one POOB, or Peeing Out of Boredom. Yes, this is a real thing too. The problem with POOB is that once you have gotten up, there's a litany of other distractions—legit shiny objectsthat will prevent you from going directly back to the office or workspace (laundry, wiping off counters, picking up, unloading the dishwasher, plucking your eyebrows, etc.). I admittedly have the attention span of a young ghat (not a mature adult ghat), so anything that takes my eye off the wheel is not good. A conflicting factor is I also have what my kids call a "kitten-sized bladder" so there is always an inner struggle: am I getting up to pee because I really need to or is it simply POOB.

3. Set boundaries with your kids (and spouse, if applicable). My children knew there were only two reasons to interrupt mom while she was working or even worse, on a call: unconsciousness and dangling limbs. That's it. Anything else can and will wait. My office was in the front of my house, so in the warmer weather with windows open, I could literally hear my kids a block away as they got off the bus fighting the whole walk home. I regrettably had a glass door to my office so they would come and silently plead their case or accuse their sibling of outrageous things. They would construct signs and hold them in the window, creative little shits. I can't imagine how you are all working with small kids you can't threaten to kill if they disturb you. I'm officially starting a prayer chain for you all. Stay strong. 

4. Dress down. There is no dress code, folks. Work-from-home attire is all about comfort. My "schlubby chic" look is comprised mostly of hoodies and sweatpants. I have amassed quite the collection of leisurewear over the years working from home, but I must admit that probably 80% of the time I am likely wearing one of three pairs of sweatpants: two pairs of flannel-lined Athleta sweatpants or a pair so ugly my ex used to refer to them as my "birth control" pants.

When the weather first turns chilly in the fall, putting these treasured garments on is like feeling the welcome embrace of an old lover. So warm and familiar. No judgement for occasional weight fluctuations. And, bras are optional ladies so let them free. Now a disclaimer: once you've let the horses run wild, they are not going to be too happy when you strap those saddles back on again. Gravity is not your friend so wearing at least a sports bra is probably best. 

The same theory applies to your waistline. So I would recommend every once in a while putting on a real pair of pants just to make sure the jello is still in the mold, so to speak. It's too late for me. I put on regular pants now and my entire lower body starts experiencing some form of claustrophobia and I feel like I'm slowly being suffocated. Same with shapewear but that's a whole other blog. 



5. The mute button is your friend. If you like me spend a fair amount of time in meetings, or calls, the mute button is essential. With it you can continue to participate in work calls while also: screaming at your kids, answering the door, passing gas, eating, peeing, beating and/or petting your dogs, throwing in a load of laundry, etc. I know this because I have done ALL of these things while also on work calls. Not naming names, but I've been on calls when people forget this valuable tip and while incredibly amusing, you don't want to be this person.

6. Communicate with others. Those of you with a spouse and/or kids at home, this one will be easy lifting. For those of us who live alone, however, be sure you reach out and communicate in some form with others daily. I've spent years teaching my dogs English so I spend a lot of time talking at them. I also rely on texting, Skyping, exchanging memes on social media, and yes, even sometimes calling people to stay socially connected. My Boston-based work team has started doing weekly video meetings now that we are all WFH. My response to the initial idea was as long as it didn't impede with my religious right to observe "No Bra" Monday, I was in. 

Bottom line. While I enjoy the social aspects of being in the office, my ghat-like attention span prevents me from being really productive. I think once the adjustment period is over, you will all find that you can actually be more productive and focused working from home.  

Forge on soldiers, brighter, and warmer, days ahead. 

Yoga Update: I haven't given up! I will say that the minute I roll out my mat, my right buttock starts twitching in some type of Pavlovian response. I've enlisted Laura and we accidentally did an intermediate class this week. I was attempting this ridiculous pose where you try and balance your body with your knees on your elbows (I think they train elephants to do something similar). Anyway, I lost my balance and fell on my face. Entertaining, if nothing else. 

Bowie sitting on my head as I was attempting yoga.

I also struggle because every time I get on the floor, the dogs think I'm down there for them. So keeping them at bay while doing yoga makes any beginner class intermediate. I'm not giving up though. I'll keep you all posted on my progress. 

Hope you all trying to stay busy and active. Would love to hear what you are doing! 

Until next time. Namaste.

Barb

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Vibe Coding My Way to True Geek Status

Yep, it's true. My natural evolution to full nerd is well underway. How could this have happened? It seems like yesterday I was failing ...