I’ve been under the weather this week. It started as (I thought) a cold, blossoming one day in my chest. I wasn’t aware it was there until I started chuckling at something and found myself bent over, coughing and hacking like a cat struggling with a problematic hairball. (For the record, if you ever want to feel the *opposite* of attractive, this’ll do it.)

A chest cold, I figured. I could handle that.

Except a few days later, I woke up so miserable I wondered if it was a mistake that I’d even woken up. Every muscle in my body ached, from my ears to my toes. I was dizzy, feverish, and disoriented. I couldn’t remember where the bathroom was or how stairs worked. Was I dying? I knew I needed to turn to an expert for help. So (of course) I consulted our on-call doctor: WebMD.

I entered my first few symptoms: congestion, cough. WebMD came back with a litany of results. I immediately found reasons to dismiss them all:

Common cold—too boring
Bronchitis—also boring
Asthma—too average
Pneumonia—don’t feel like having this right now
Viral Pharyngitis—sounded intriguing at first, but turns out it’s just a fancy way of saying “sore throat,” which is a symptom, not a diagnosis
Emphysema—too depressing
Asbestosis—would require expensive home repair, which I don’t want to do
Plague—intriguing, but unlikely
 
You may be shocked to learn that WebMD was not being helpful at all so far. I went back and added more symptoms: fever over 102 degrees, muscle aches, complete lack of will to live. This returned three results that matched 100 percent: the flu, meningitis, and ricin poisoning. Now these were diagnoses I could live with. I tried each on for size to see if they suited me. “Do you like it?” I said aloud to nobody. “It’s my new meningitis. I don’t even know where I picked it up.”

It didn’t fit quite right. The word was too tight and uncomfortable. I tossed it to the side and slipped on the ricin poisoning. This was a little more my style—after all, I write horror. But after a few minutes of trying “Oh, this old thing? It’s ricin poisoning,” I had to admit the diagnosis didn’t look that good on me. It clashed with my coloring (I’m a “warm spring”) and offered no hope of recovery. With a sigh, I took the only thing left that WebMD was offering: the flu. It wasn’t exotic or fancy, but really, nothing in my life is. I settled in for a week of drinking hot liquids, feeling woozy and feverish, and generally moaning in misery.

Now, perhaps you think a proper diagnosis by a real doctor would be more helpful, but with this kind of thing, I’m here to tell you, it’s not. A doctor would tell me exactly the same thing WebMD did (drink hot liquids, take Tylenol, get plenty of rest) plus charge me a co-pay to boot. And, as I’ve learned from past visits, most physicians don’t even like to entertain discussing the possibility of ricin poisoning. (Me: “But, it’s like, possible, right?” Dr. Katie: “Please go away.”) Seriously, not once has my doctor even said the word “plague.” She’s absolutely no fun, and when you’re dying of the plague, sometimes all you want is a little fun.
​
So thank you, WebMD. It wasn’t too serious this time, but I know that come the next illness, you’ll have a delightful menu of diagnoses to choose from.

I’ve fully embraced the technology that is podcasts. Their structure, reporting style, and snapshot discussions are exactly the kind of thing that appeals to me, and I listen to a lot of different voices each week. And since this month, podcasters are asking listeners to recommend their favorite podcasts to family and friends (#trypod), I figured I'd do just that!

My favorites are of the nonfiction variety; specifically, true crime. So what’s the best out there? Let’s take a look at my top five:
​
5. Real Crime Profile Your hosts are former New York prosecutor and FBI profiler Jim Clemente, criminal behavioral analysist and former New Scotland Yard agent Laura Richards, and Lisa Zambetti, casting director for Criminal Minds. These three take a look at crimes (some famous, some not so much) and explore the victimology, suspect behavior, and evidence in the cases and give their theories.

PROS: Jim and Laura know their stuff, and Lisa’s there to ask the questions someone like you or me would ask.
CONS: The audio isn’t spectacular—it’s sometimes difficult to hear Jim and Laura unless you crank up the volume. And Jim can get defensive at times.
EPISODES YOU CAN’T MISS: Their thirteen-episode discussion of the murders of Ron Goldman and Nicole Brown Simpson was utterly absorbing, and brought to light things you may not have known about the case.
 
4. Missing Richard Simmons is a new podcast hosted by filmmaker Dan Taberski. Arguably, this isn’t true crime—we don’t know that there is a crime here—but it’s fascinating just the same. The premise: Taberski, who knew Simmons through his "Slimmons" exercise classes, wants to know why his friend cut off all contact with everyone and hasn’t been seen since February 15, 2014. Taberski interviews Simmons’s friends and family, does a little reconnaissance work, and muses on this cultural icon and why he might want to shut himself off from the world.

PROS: Who doesn’t love Richard Simmons? Aren’t you worried about him? We want answers! Also, Taberski is really likeable.
CONS: Maybe the guy just wants to be left alone.
EPISODES YOU CAN’T MISS: Just download all of them. There are only six.
 
3. Generation Why Hosted by friends Aaron and Justin, this podcast covers criminal cases from start to finish in about an hour. Sometimes they do interviews, sometimes they talk about personal stuff, but it's always entertaining.

PROS: The hosts sound like guys you’d want to hang out with. Plus, it’s a quick, satisfying fix that gives you a little more insight into cases you may not have heard about.
CONS: Sometimes they rush things, or take on cases that are just too big for one episode.
EPISODE YOU CAN’T MISS: Episode 146, “Hauptmann’s Ladder Restored,” about the Lindbergh kidnapping case, brought up new insights I hadn't heard before, and left me—for the first time in my life—with an opinion on Hauptmann's guilt or innocence.
 
2. Crimetown Hosted by Marc Smerling and Zac Stuart-Pontier, this is an in-depth look at corruption and organized crime in Providence, Rhode Island. (They’ll look at other cities in future seasons.) With audio clips of Buddy Cianci, commentary from former mobsters and molls associated with crime lord Raymond Patriarca, and interviews with characters like former Rhode Island Attorney General Arlene Violet (nicknamed “Attila the Nun”), this podcast brings to life a vibrant, corrupt underground in a city that arguably was made a better place by mobster—er, Mayor—Buddy Cianci.

PROS: Excellent audio, sound bites, interviews . . . you’ll be enthralled from start to finish. Also has a great website with additional material showcasing the players involved.
CONS: I do wonder if I wouldn’t be so fascinated if I weren’t a former Rhode Island resident. I suppose I’ll find out in Season Two.
EPISODES YOU CAN’T MISS: Start with Episode 1, “Divine Providence,” about the rise of Buddy Cianci. Oh, Buddy. How we loved and hated you, you corrupt bum. Thanks for a beautiful city.
 
1. Up and Vanished This is the podcast that shouldn’t have been as amazing as it is. Host Payne Lindsey tells you in the first episode he is neither an investigator nor a podcaster. He did this on a whim. Lindsey investigates the case of Tara Grinstead, a teacher and former beauty queen who disappeared from her Georgia home in October 2005. Lindsey interviews friends, relatives, a private investigator who worked on the case for years, and even deals with online trolls. But here’s the thing: the quality is excellent, Lindsey is hands down the best podcast narrator I’ve heard, and the attention his podcast drew to the case resulted in an arrest on February 24, 2017, then a second one on March 3, 2017. Think podcasts are a waste of time? This one brought about results in a cold case over a decade old.

PROS: I can’t say enough about the likeability and professionalism of Payne Lindsey. Also, he interviews his grandmother (and yes, she’s relevant to the case at hand).
CONS: The arrests certainly took Lindsey off guard, and he’s scrambling—he had episodes ready to go, but all of that has had to be scrapped due to this latest twist. He’s doing a fine job of keeping us updated, but the episode of the audio from the gag order hearing felt like filler.
EPISODES YOU CAN’T MISS: The whole thing. Then subscribe so all future episodes will be automatically downloaded.
 
Honorable mention: The first season of Serial led to increased public interest in Adnan Syed’s possible wrongful conviction. This led to Undisclosed, Season 1, which did a much deeper dive into the case, and introduced us to Rabia Chaudry, lawyer and personal friend of the Syed family. These two podcasts, besides being riveting, brought about action in the Syed case: he was recently granted a retrial. (Season 2 of Undisclosed, about the possible wrongful conviction of Joey Watkins, is also excellent.)
 
Finally, now seems the perfect time to bring up my recent appearance on The 9th Story Podcast. This podcast, which has nothing at all to do with true crime, is hosted by Jeanette Andromeda and Immortal Alexander, and discusses “storytelling in all its forms.” Jeanette is a social media guru, writer, and artist; Alexander a filmmaker, writer, and photographer, and their past (and current) experiences bring intriguing insight into the creative arts as a whole. Have a listen, won’t you?

​I have mentioned in the past that I eat a lot of jelly beans. They seem to be the perfect food: easy to digest, offered in a variety of flavors, and chock full of sugar. I’ve also advised, for those with dietary restrictions, to go for the best. Thus my preference to purchase Jelly Belly gourmet jelly beans.

I’ve had some time to ponder this, and have settled on a list of the five absolute best Jelly Belly flavors. They are, without question:
1. Bubble Gum
2. Sizzling Cinnamon
3. A & W® Root Beer
4. Dr. Pepper®
5. Tutti-Frutti

Conversely, the worst flavors are:
1. Buttered Popcorn
2. Margarita
3. Mango
4. Juicy Pear
5. Birthday Cake

I always keep a three-pound bag of Jelly Belly beans in the house. It’s pretty much the only thing I can snack on without digestive issues. My husband largely ignored the bag, sticking to his peanut butter cups and granola bars, which worked out well for almost a year . . . until this past Sunday.

Maybe we didn’t have enough junk food in the house. Maybe he was craving something sweet, and sugar straight out of the bowl wasn’t cutting it. Whatever the reason, he got into my jelly beans.

Here’s where I’m going to stop and explain something rather important: Jason does not practice the concept of moderation. If he buys a box of Fruit Rollups or a strawberry rhubarb pie, for instance, neither thing will last more than eight hours in the house. The notion of a taste or smidgen is completely alien to him. (On the plus side, I rarely have to toss leftovers, as there never are any.) So when I spotted his fistful of jelly beans, I freaked.

“Are you out of your mind?” I asked, like he’d just bought a dog or something.
“What? Hey, you’re right—these are good.”

My heart sank. Unlike the human garbage disposal I lived with, my snacking options were limited. If we ran out of jelly beans, there was nothing else in the house I could eat instead without running to the toilet twenty minutes after consumption.

He tried to reassure me: “You hate the buttered popcorn, right? I’ll eat all those.” This was comforting. Eating a buttered popcorn jelly bean always made me think, If I ever get the urge to lick the inside of a dumpster, this is what it would taste like. I grudgingly agreed he could eat those.

Except he didn’t limit it to those. It turns out he also likes the root beer, Dr. Pepper, and tutti-frutti flavors. And he’s one of those obnoxious people that will fish out their favorites and leave the rest, instead of those polite “taking a handful and eating what you get” types. Sunday night, I went to pack my lunch and found my Jelly Belly bag was lighter by two pounds. And what remained as a sea of mango and juicy pear.

I can take a lot, but this had pushed me past my limit. “I want a divorce,” I announced. Jason thought I was kidding. I was not. He suggested counseling. I was hearing none of it. I just wanted my darn bubble gum jelly beans, and unless the marriage counselor gave away pounds of those as a “thanks for trying to work it out” reward, I was done.

He suggested I was being unreasonable. I pelted him with mango beans, and he stormed out of the house in a huff. I started packing my clothes. Twenty minutes later, I heard his key in the lock. He’d returned, this time with two bags of Jelly Bellies, clearly marked “His” and “Hers” in Sharpie. Plus a bag of all Sizzling Cinnamon, just for me.

“I guess I’ll stay,” I said with a sniffle. I opened the Sizzling Cinnamon bag and peered in. “What, they didn’t have bubble gum?”
​
They had not. Fair warning, people: I can’t promise I’ll be staying.

You’ve seen the quizzes online: are you dominated by the left hemisphere of your brain, rendering you organized and logical? Or are you a right-brainer, relying on your creativity and intuition to get you through life? (Spoiler alert: I’m a right-brainer.) I often envy left-brainers their sensible, systematic approach to life. I don’t know how they do it. But I also suspect that they wonder how right-brainers even make it through the day. Because a typical right-brain-dominated day might go something like this:

6:15 a.m. – Alarm goes off. It is imperative for the right-brainer to have an innocuous, non-threatening sound to wake up to (I use the theme song to Six Feet Under). A more traditional buzz or bell will result in the right-brainer running through a litany of what the alarm might be: fire, carbon monoxide, phantom old-fashioned phone ringing in the walls, giant carnivorous insect.

6:30 a.m. – Someone has cleaned the toilet bowl. The left-brainer knows this was a child or spouse, who did the cleaning in accordance with the weekend chore list that is updated monthly and pinned to the household bulletin board. The right-brainer assumes toilet elves came a-scrubbing during the night.

7:00 a.m. – The right-brainer heads out to work. They take a different route each time, depending on the day: this is to throw off stalkers, bill collectors, serial killers, traffic cops, the FBI, and giant carnivorous insects. Believe it or not, the right-brained person thinks they’re being organized and logical by doing this. The words “paranoid” and “nutso” never enter their thoughts.

7:50 a.m. – Safe and sound at work now that they’ve given that FBI tail the slip, the right-brainer must make the first important decision of the day. No, not “What flavor of coffee should I go for?” but rather, “Which will taste better? French vanilla mixed with hazelnut, or pumpkin spice with a splash of blueberry?” Note: the right-brainer will later complain how crappy the coffee tastes today.

10:05 a.m. – The right-brainer checks Facebook. They immediately spot one of their own:
___
Lefty Brainer (status update): There is NO phone call important enough that you would have to talk in a public restroom stall!
Righty Brainer (response comment): “Hello? 911? Yes, you see, I made a courtesy flush and the suction pulled my nuts down into the u-bend, and I’m trapped. No, no one will help me! Every time I ask if someone will come in and take a look, they just run the other way! Would you send someone? Hello? Operator, are you laughing?”
___
(It’s reassuring to the right-brainer to see there are others out there like them.)
 
12:30 p.m. – Lunchtime at the cafeteria. The right-brainer takes a seat next to her left-brained friend. The left-brainer has packed a balanced lunch: tofu linguine and alfalfa sprouts, a boiled egg, an apple, and vitamin water. The right-brainer grabbed a package of Oreos from the vending machine for lunch. The right-brainer looks over at the left-brainer’s linguine, offers them an Oreo-crumb-blackened smile, and says, “Whatcha got there? Squid? Intestines?”

12:35 p.m. – The right-brainer munches her Oreos at an empty table.

2:00 p.m. – Afternoon decaf for the right-brained folk. Jeez, this cinnamon-butter pecan-mint coffee tastes like crap. Must be the water.

4:30 p.m. – The workday ends for the right-brainer. The traffic guy on the radio reports a traffic jam on the highway. As she traverses the back roads, the right-brainer wonders what caused the jam: jet plane landing on the freeway? Car full of clowns driving the wrong way? The Avengers?

6:00 p.m. – Time to make dinner. Ignoring the recipe for grilled chicken and asparagus tips with new potatoes that her left-brained mother gave her, the right-brainer thinks, I’ve never hand-made my own pasta before. I should try that now!

8:30 p.m. – The right-brainer’s left-brained husband looks at the film of flour on the floor and lumps of dough now sculpted into fun farm animal shapes littering the kitchen, and orders a pizza.

9:30 p.m. – Bedtime!

10:06 p.m. – Why am I still up? the right-brainer wonders, never once thinking she should’ve checked to make sure that cinnamon-butter pecan-mint coffee was actually decaf. I must be worried about something. Clowns. Squid. Giant carnivorous insects. Any of these things could be living in my attic right now.

11:12 p.m. – Still awake. I should clean the bathroom right now. Or write a novel! That’s it—I’ll write that book I’ve been thinking about for ages, with the escaped lion from the zoo and the medieval washwoman and Bobby Kennedy! I can get three thousand words down, easy, right . . . right now . . . zzzzzzz . . .
 
The left-brained people reading this blog will probably assume this post was fanciful fiction.
The right-brainers know better.