Brief Humor & Check-Ins, Introversion/INTJ

Author: Exercise for Happy Introverts 🚲🍁☺️ (Bike/iFit/Humor)

I’ve found I like doing most activities either alone or with my spouse, the Saint.* Being around people tends to drain my batteries quickly, with some exceptions. I’ve found many people like to peck at introverts and want to draw them out of their “shells” like some over eager mother robin. They ask intruding questions and wish to know everything about you within ten minutes of meeting. (This is why dungeons were created: to throw people like this into them.) Then they flit onto the next person, never to see you again until next year’s holiday function to re-live the level of Hell all over again. Hooray.

We introverts needs to take care of ourselves against the legions of rude, energy vampires that flit along us. I’ve found an exercise I really enjoy and wanted to share it with fellow birds of the flock. So get your groove together and let’s crack on!

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Brief Humor & Check-Ins, Labrador Lessons

Author: Method #491 of Calming the Labrador (Sing Elvis)

Our dog (who, by chance, is the inspiration for a character in my book) greatly dislikes thunderstorms. It could be just heat lightning; it could be only remnants of thunder. If it’s both, it’s all over. Let the shaking, pacing, panting and anxiety begin.

Thundercoats only take the edge off for the Labrador; treats and toys are but momentary distractions. One boom-boom and we’re off to bury ourselves behind the couch cushions.

But recently, I had a breakthrough. And it’s Elvis. I began to sing “Can’t Help Falling in Love With You” to the Lab, and then played the song while singing. After about fifteen renditions, I had a calm dog ready to go sleep. The storm was also done by then, but the singing helped her to stay by me during the storm. Instead of pacing, she sat by me and eventually laid down. Her panting and anxiety decreased, too. I call that a win.

So here you go. Let me know if this works for you the next time your animal kingdom companion builds up anxiety. The king would be proud. 🎤

Contest Entries

Terrible Poetry Entry: Parody of “Death (Dog) be not proud”

Here’s my entry for Chelsea Owen’s current Terrible Poetry Contest:

Parody of “Death be not proud” by John Donne

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Our lab, looking majestic. Thanks for reading.
Labrador Lessons

Labrador Lessons III: Pace Thyself, Human! (Our First 10k)

There are gulpers and there are chippers in this world. I am a gulper. There are no stages, no stepping stones of graduated achievements with how I proceed. There is simply the goal and myself, whatever it may be. Everything between me and the goal must be overcome. And now, today, this very instant in fact! Definitely not tomorrow or a wishy-washy “sometime later, honey.” I will stay the course, finish strong, even if doctors and nurses hurry behind me with a crash cart and tranquilizer darts. Reality be darned!

All this I thought today during my first 10k, walking at a steady pace with my saintly husband* and tolerant Labrador. And then my Lab, during mile six, laid down in the middle of the road during a water break. She peered up at me and my so-called goals.

“Go ahead–try to move me, human,” my Labrador taunted me from the ground. “But you’re going to carry my 55lb butt back to the air conditioned car. And then I’m gonna pee all over your azaleas you just planted so lovingly…”

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Ponderings

The Impermanence of Legacy

I walked my Labrador this evening. Over hills, through mud, grass, gravel and turf we went, smelling, sniffing and eating things of questionable nature before I could issue a stern “Ka kah!”* Upon our walk, we came across a memorial for local fire fighters. In the sidewalk ambling up laid worn bricks with donors’ names etched. Most of the names were erased by the elements, faint letters visible sporadically, leaving nonsense to be deciphered and speculated.

We lingered only a moment, as my Lab was undertaking a smell inventory. In the pause, I became aware how short human memory and legacies are, despite salesmen’s promises. We are born with nothing; we die with nothing. As a stumbling follower of Yeshua, this doesn’t bother me. I chose to place my trust in him and his words, something I don’t consider transient. This speck of dust does hope to leave some books behind, like the Brontës did in their century.  If anything, someone can use the novels to prop open a door for another. Or level a wobbly table or two on the Enterprise. It could happen.

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