Flash ah-ah!

My dog has become my barometer.

I love my dog. She's a great companion. If it wasn't for her I would never have chucked everything and spent a year travelling. Before she came along I was tied to owning my apartment. It was the first home I had ever bought. I loved it. I pictured myself a blue-haired old lady trudging up the back steps to my apartment with my tin of cat food in my hand, wearing a hair net. But, when my coop board offered me the choice between keeping the dog and staying in my apartment I chose the dog.

At the time, losing my home was terrifying. Later, when I was drinking wine with new friends in Portugal I was thankful for her. After all, besides being the impetus for the move she introduced me to my new friends.

Now, before you panic and think I've had as stroke and become one of those people who imbues their animal with "special powers", I mean this whole barometer thing in a totally concrete way.

I no long have any confidence in my internal thermometer. It could be -12, 12 or even 42 degrees outside, I couldn't tell the difference. Sweating is no longer indicative of hot temperatures.

Lots of people have advice on how to avoid and manage hot flashes.

Avoid caffeine.

No hot drinks.

Don't eat chocolate.

Spicy or hot foods are a no-no.

Worst of all, they tell me no alcohol.

Really, do you even know me? These are all things I love. You can take my uterus, but you can't take my pleasures! Maybe I should call them vices? Either way...

When the dog and I get ready to head out to the park or for a walk I look at her. Is she panting? How far out of her mouth is her tongue hanging? These are clues I use to help with the big decisions. Puffy vest? Wool sweater? Or sweat shirt?

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