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Science is now telling us that we are divided into two kinds of people: supertasters and normal tasters. The super-sensitive tasters among us have more fungiform papillae on their tongues – bumps –  that hold our taste buds.  Supertasters can taste bitter substances  that normal testers can’t, and many tastes are much more intense for them.

The way that scientists discovered that humanity is divided into supertasters and normal tasters is a fascinating look at how science stumbles upon discoveries. This one happened at a DuPont chemical lab in Wilmington, Delaware in the 1930s: a bunch of chemicals exploded and one  scientist not only smelled the chemicals, but tasted them. The other scientist didn’t detect anything.

In November 1931, A.L. Fox, the chemist who made the discovery, presented a paper at the National Academy of Sciences:

“Some time ago the author had occasion to prepare a quantity of phenyl thio carbamide, and while placing it in a bottle the dust flew around in the air. Another occupant of the laboratory, Dr. C. R. Noller, complained of the bitter taste of the dust, but the author, who was much closer, observed no taste and so stated. He even tasted some of the crystals and assured Dr. Noller they were tasteless but Dr. Noller was equally certain it was the dust he tasted. He tried some of the crystals and found them extremely bitter. With these two diverse observations as a starting point, a large number of people were investigated and it was established that this peculiarity was not connected with age, race or sex. Men, women, elderly persons, children, negroes, Chinese, Germans and Italians were all shown to have in their ranks both tasters and non-tasters.”

According to an article in live science, about a quarter of the population qualifies as supertasters; they have many more bumps on their tongues. Another quarter of the population is so lacking in these bumps that they qualify as nontasters. Linda Bartoshuk, a physiological psychologist at the University of Florida, says, “Supertasters live in a ‘neon’ taste world, while others live in a ‘pastel’ world.”

For supertasters, bitter tastes are more bitter, but sweet tastes are also sweeter. “Supertasters are more sensitive to the burn from ethanol, the sweetness of sugar, the burn of chili peppers and the astringency of red wine,” said John E. Hayes, a professor of food science at Penn State.

These variances matter because they influence how and what we eat when we’re kids and help to determine our eating behaviors as adults. Researchers still don’t know which genes determine how many tastes buds we have but evolution may provide a possible explanation for the variance.

Bartoshuk speculates that when our nomadic ancestors entered a new environment, they had to find out which native plants were safe to eat.  And because plants often contain defensive toxins that taste bitter, the supertasters detected the bitterness and avoided those plants. “A supertaster is safer in a new environment, because they can pick up those bitters,” said Bartoshuk, “but a nontaster eats better in a safe environment, because they like more foods.”

Women are more likely to be supertasters than men – 35 percent of the population compared with 15 percent of men. Bartoshuk noted that the higher percentage of supertasters among women may be due to an instinctive protection of a fetus when a woman is pregnant.

I found this research fascinating. It takes one of our five senses and illustrates how that sense has evolved in an extraordinary way in some people so that it’s become  a kind of psychic sense. In ancient times, this sense would make it unlikely that you would die from eating a poisonous plant. Maybe in the 21^st century its purpose is the same: to detect certain chemicals or toxins in food that, if ingested, would harm us in irreparable ways.

In fact, now I may have a supertaster in my new novel, Fastwalkers. It takes place in a dystopian world where people with psychic ability are considered to be mutants and are rendered mute. The general populace is oppressed and contained by a certain kind of terror campaign run by Enforcers. I can see how the oppressed may decide to poison Enforcer foods. The synchro for me, I think, is that in my search for news about new discoveries in the quantum world, where it seems that synchronicity is born,  I stumbled upon an element I can use creatively.

I love it when this kind of stuff happens.

Recently, we posted a spirit communication story involving a red cardinal that was sent by Sharon Catley of Canada. Here’s another one of her stories, but this one involves a cat.

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I’ve had a lot of cats in my life and although they were all special in their own way there was one cat with whom I had a very special bond. I had always wanted a brown tabby and we got Henry (named after my paternal grandfather) when he was just a tiny kitten.

He was scared of everything and I spent a lot of time trying to comfort him and make him feel safe. Over the years we became great friends. I loved the feel of his fat little body and his fur. Henry loved to eat and got very fat. He also was not that good with his grooming and had his own smell – not unpleasant just different. I loved Henry so much I wrote a song about him.

Henry was about 10 years old when tragedy struck our household. Unbeknownst to us at the time, the dry cat food we were feeding our cats was laced with melamine. You may remember this from the news. Several of our cats became sick and the vet couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them. He thought maybe a virus.  We lost four cats in all but they did not die at the same time. Two others got very sick but survived.

I held out hope for Henry as he was younger than the others and, of course, robust. He took to staying under the bed and we had to put food and water there for him. At this time I was staying in the city during the week and coming home on weekends.

My husband and I always had a goodnight call at 10 pm then I would get ready for bed. This particular night (a Thursday) I had just settled down to sleep when all of a sudden I smelled the Henry smell and felt his presence. He just was there (not visually) sitting on my chest just in front of my face. I can still remember what his fur felt like. Then he was gone.

I got up and called John, asking if Henry was okay because I thought he had just come to see me to say goodbye.  John said he was still in the same shape but alive.

The next day when John came to pick me up and take me home for the weekend he gave me a big hug and said,  “Last night when you called back at 11 pm Henry had just died. I did not want to tell you because you were alone so I waited until today.”

We both held each other crying. I said, “He came to say good-bye.”

Since then other cats have passed on and before or since Henry no one else came to say good-bye – only him. God Bless you, fat little tab!

Our interview late, late last night on Coast to Coast is now posted on You Tube. Thank you, Charles Fontaine for the heads up!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ufRuqbj9qDk

Today marks the official pub date for Aliens in the Backyard. We’re excited about this book for a number of reasons. While the topic of alien abductions has been around for a few decades now, we take an approach that is distinct and unique.

In essence, Aliens in the Backyard is our third book on synchronicity, following The 7 Secrets of Synchronicity and Synchronicity and the Other Side. We haven’t  seen any books that take a close look at the abundance of meaningful coincidences that often occur in the aftermath of UFO encounters or abductions. For Charles Fontaine, one of the four experiencers whom we focus on, such synchronicities were startling, mind-blowing. They also led him to us.

Beyond synchronicity,  we uncovered a specific type of psychic ability that many abductees and experiencers developed in the aftermath of their encounters. We call them ‘planetary empaths.’  They are so attuned to the planet that hours or days before a planetary disaster – earthquakes, tornadoes, volcanic eruptions, tsunamis and even man-made disasters like 9-11- they experience a wide variety of physical symptoms and know that something big is coming.

We also explore the possible connections between an American naval base in the Bahamas known as AUTEC – Atlantic Undersea Test and Evaluation Center – and USOs – unidentified submerged objects – and the Bermuda Triangle. We have stories from people who worked at AUTEC about some of the incredible things they experienced. We’re also the only UFO investigators who actually talked to the commander of AUTEC about UFOs…and that was another synchronicity.

We started out the book  in a way that might surprise some readers in that the first chapter deals with a trip to an island in southern Chile to investigate a ghost ship, the Caleuche. The legend of the Caleuche, which many islanders believe are based on real experiences, is closely linked to the abduction phenomenon in that the mysterious ship is manned by a crew of brujos, or witches, who abduct islanders.

Besides Charles Fontaine’s dramatic story that take place in Quebec, we follow the story of pilot Bruce Gernon, who was pursued by a ‘cloud’ while flying through the Bermuda Triangle. We also write about Connie Canon’s experience with aliens on a military base, and Diane Fine’s story of losing a baby during an apparent abduction.

While many serious books about ufology avoid the topic of abductions and rarely mention synchronicity, we pursue both topics with a  sense of adventure. While the ‘old hippies’ of ufology might shrug and say, ‘Oh, another book about abductions…ho hum,’ we think we’ve written something unique. We think we have a winner!

Oh, another reason we’re psyched about Feb. 4 is that it’s the fourth anniversary of our blog!

Tonight we’ll be on Coast to Coast AM from 11 PM – 2AM pacific coast time. Here on the east coast, that translates to 2-5AM on the morning of February 5. Bring on the coffee!

Here are the links for Amazon Kindle and the trade paperback. Click here for an excerpt.

Here’s a compilation of videos of UFOs taken in January 2013. Some of these are very strange.

Today at the dog park, it occurred to me that the reason I write about dog park politics (aside from the human politics!) is that I’m fascinated by  what dogs reveal about human nature.

Here you see Cody, the husky, and Red, the hound, playing king of the mountain. Just moments before, these two dogs and Noah were trying to climb a tree where a squirrel chattered high in the branches. Moments after this picture was taken, Cody and Red were racing across the park with a young puppy, whom Cody subsequently took down, probably in the same way that wolves do in the wild- grab neck,  flip onto back, sever carotid. Except that Cody never bites down hard anything to sever anything. This is how some domesticated dogs play. By then, Noah was chasing a ball that Rob had tossed him. That’s how he plays- balls, Frisbees, toss, fetch, retrieve. But he does it in his own time, at his own pace, he can’t be rushed or pushed.

So I’m watching all this, taking it in,  and talking with Colleen, the official dog whisperer of the park (owns three dogs and usually brings two or three others to the park that she’s dog sitting) about her decision to move back to Michigan, where she’s from. If Colleen were a dog, she would be a younger version of her Belgian Shepherd, Thunder. He’s a big, gentle dog, more bark than bite. Everyone knows him. Every time he sees any dogs in his pack in disputes, he lumbers to his feet and hobbles toward them, his hoarse bark warning them to back off, to just break it up or he will start biting and snapping.

Right. Like Thunder would do that.

While we’re talking, a young border collie – whose name is June Bug -circles through the park, a beautiful little thing looking for something to do, searching  for a task to accomplish, a goal to achieve. Her owner is a young woman with a toddler – a boy – hurrying after the border collie, and a baby in a papoose on her chest.  “June needs a ball or a Frisbee,” I remark.

“She’s our fourth border collie and different from the ones we’ve had before.”

She starts talking about the differences and I’m thinking of Cassie’s border collie, Willow, and Bill’s border collie, Connie. These two dogs are tireless workers. Toss a ball or a Frisbee, and they can outrun a Greyhound, and you’ll have to toss and toss for hours to satisfy these dogs. They are bred for tasks.

In this pic, Willow is the black and white dog behind Noah.

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Once a week, Connie and Bill take their border collies  to a sheep-herding facility several hours north of here. And this is where their DNA kicks in, where the thing for which they are bred really shines.  I’m glad we don’t have a border collie.  I’m delighted that Nika is a   short fur border collie mixed with a lab, but admit that I am fascinated by border collies. At some level, border collies speak to who I am.

I am happiest when I have a task, a goal, a purpose. If there’s a deadline on top of that, so much the better. If  I were a dog, I would chase that ball, that Frisbee. I would herd those sheep, I would yearn for a goal and purpose.

Tasks, goals, they seem to be key for border collies. Cassie, for instance, leaves Willow at home when she goes to the barn every day to take care of Tami Hoag’s horses. But she makes sure that Willow has tasks. “Every morning, I create a treasure hunt for him. I hide little treats through the apartment, with a big treat promised at the end – a marrow bone or an older marrow bone that I’ve filled with peanut butter and hidden somewhere.”

Wow, I thought. Lucky Willow. Not only does he get to sheep herd once a week, but he has a daily treasure hunt. This is my kind of world.

And so my epiphany was ultimately simple: I am a border collie. Rob is a golden retriever. Our daughter is a cross between the two, a hybrid like a labradoodle – labrador/poodle  mix -that you might call a collie retriever or a golden border. I’m not sure what this insight means in the larger scheme of things. I don’t know how it may work itself into my fiction. Dogs, after all, are not humans and the way we humans actually interact with each other MAY BE  more complex. Note the MAY BE.

Dogs works out their issues in the park. We humans work out our issues in daily life. But it always comes back to the central question:  aren’t we all hybrids of one kind or another? Don’t we somehow make it all work?

In 2009, when I started writing Esperanza, our neighbors’ daughter stopped by one afternoon to say hi to Megan, who was home on a break from college. Madison – Maddie – was four then, a fearless cutie curious about everything. She’s still that way. Show her a bug, a reptile, even a rodent and she’ll figure out a way to pick it up without getting bitten so she can examine it. A biologist in the making.

When I was casting around for names for my Esperanza characters, that name, Maddie, kept pushing up against me. I knew one of my characters had to have that name. My protagonist’s 17-year-old niece got the honor.  My Maddie probably won’t pick up reptiles and snakes, but has an otherwise fearless approach to life, just like  our neighbor Maddie. I must find the answers on my own.

After Maddie’s mom read Esperanza, she asked if the character Madison was named after her daughter. You got it, I said.

“I knew it, I just knew it. Okay, so what happens to her in the sequel? You’ve left us hanging – Dominica just took over Maddie’s body and fled Esperanza.”

“I don’t know what happens yet.” At the time, I was still writing Ghost Key.

Ghost Key, The sequel to Esperanza, was actually two books. The first one took place in Hood River, Oregon, my agent hated it, my editor wasn’t crazy about it. So I rewrote it and set it on Cedar Key, Florida. I had spent only a week in Hood River, on vacation, and should have known it would never work as a location. With just a couple of exceptions, my 35 novels have taken place in Florida or in imaginary places.  If I write about a place, I have to know that place.  I loved Hood River, but I wasn’t there long enough to get to know it. I’ve lived in Florida off and on since 1963. I know Florida. Big difference for a writer.

So I rewrote the novel, which took about seven months,located the story in Florida, primarily on Cedar Key,  and the story worked. It’s about what happens to Maddie after Dominica seizes her and flees Ecuador. When Maddie’s mom finished GK, she stopped by the house, hands on her hips, and grinned. “Okay, in this next book, Trish, you have got to include an inside joke. I mean, you’re already using my daughter’s name. So now use something that only you and I and our families will get.”

Well, I’m happy to report that such a scene worked its way into Apparition.  I ran across it this evening, as I was reading through the revision notes my editor sent.  It involves these guys:

the kitty gargoyles

Copper  – neighbors’ cat – and our Simba cat, look like twins. They came into our and  respective lives within just a week or so of each other. Copper has amber eyes, Simba has green eyes, that’s the quickest way to tell them apart. Some mornings when I wake up with an orange cat meowing at the bathroom window to get out, I think it’s Simba. It turns out to be Copper. In Apparition, Copper is named Cobre, the Spanish equivalent.  So there it is, Maddie’s mom. The end of chapter 3, the inside joke!

And thank you for naming your daughter Maddie.