Reading as entertainment

Although I do enjoy a good list, I try not to keep track of my daily habits. Seriously, it’s better if you don’t look.

However, I made an exception this past year for books, mostly because I read a lot of series, and I like to go in order. The whole thing is easier when you keep track. Especially as you get older …

My spreadsheet shows I read 44 books in 2024. Not a world record but not too shabby, considering the average American reads 12 books a year. At least according to the Pew Research Center.

Most of my reading was crime fiction. I went back over the list to see what stood out, and I am surprised to say not much. A lot of what I read is entertaining but not particularly memorable. And I’m OK with that. I’m just here for the party and am not out to score literary credits.

Reading can be educational and challenging and cerebral, but I’m all about simple pleasures and most of the time I read books to escape or be entertained. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

All that said, the biggest surprise for me was discovering Tana French, who has been writing for quite awhile without my knowledge! I’ve read three of her books now, and I will go out on a limb and suggest this is crime fiction at its finest. I particularly enjoyed In the Woods, the first in her Dublin Murder Squad series. Faithful Place was another great one, although the story definitely takes family dysfunction to a new level. I’m still thinking about that one.

Just to prove I do mix it up from time to time, a few others at the top of my 2024 list include genres other than crime fiction:

  • Lady Tan’s Circle of Women by Lisa See
  • A Gentleman in Moscow by Amor Towles
  • Farewell, Amethystine by Walter Mosley
  • Clete by James Lee Burke
  • The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon
  • Iron Flame by Rebecca Yarros

As for 2025, I don’t suppose I’ll change much. I’m next up at the library for The Waiting by Michael Connelly. Locked In, the finale to the Department Q series by Jussi Adler-Olsen, just came out. The library doesn’t have it yet, but it should come in soon, and I’ll get in the queue for that.

Another one I’ll be on the lookout for is Onyx Storm by Rebecca Yarros. I believe it comes out later this month. This is book three of three in The Empyrean series, science fiction/fantasy novels about young dragon riders trying to save the world.

I’ve started to make a list of science fiction detective novels. That just sounds like fun reading to me. And I will need some fun (and maybe brown liquor) to get me through the Trump years.

Oh, you probably know the flags will be flying at half-staff for 30 days to honor former President Jimmy Carter. But did you realize that means the flags will be flying at half-staff during Trump’s inauguration?

Just a little something to perk you up. Happy New Year.

On being merry

I had an Amazon return, and the supermarket is next door to the UPS drop-off, so Dale and I made an adventure of it. Who said I wasn’t merry? When we arrived at the UPS store, there was a line. You know, holidays and all that.

But I was chill. The guys who run that store are fantastic. Fast and friendly. I even said something to Dale about not minding the line because I knew it would be easy. We were merrily chit-chatting, when all of the sudden a 30ish-looking woman standing in front of me whipped around, long red hair flying, and she said in the nastiest voice possible, “Is there a reason you are standing so close to me?”

I started to say sure, yeah, excited about the line and all that or maybe trying to get closer so I can sniff you out, but instead I said, “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I was too close.”

Still snarling, she said, “Well, it’s just a little weird.”

My aren’t we testy! Yes, I said that in my outside voice. She repeated that it was weird. Again, I apologized and thanked her for pointing out my mistake. Then I started humming Psycho Killer because she probably didn’t know who the Talking Heads were anyway. Those young folks.

I was at the counter as she left the store, hollering out in her mean-girl voice, “Have a nice day, ma’am.”

Well, that was a bit much. Let’s just say my merry meter was not pegged.

So, food. Thank goodness we have food. I’m avoiding raw milk, because that’s what sane people do, but there is still much to be enjoyed. Yesterday I made a loaf of sourdough, and we had some of that with beef stew from the freezer. Oh, and sourdough toast this morning. Generously buttered with Kerrygold and a sprinkle of coarse sea salt. Coffee. Black.

But we need more gluten, drill sergeant! Tonight I’ll make the dough for an overnight no-knead rye bread. Pro tip: substitute pickle juice for some or all of the water. That gets baked in the morning, and then I will get started on cabbage rolls. We use bison instead of beef. And this time I have homemade tomato sauce I froze at the end of the summer, so I’m expecting big things.

We usually watch the Lord of the Rings trilogy this time of year, and I’m thinking the first episode should roll out with dinner tomorrow. I always feel so sorry for Frodo, such a burden he carried, but I might feel sort of Hobbit-like with my stuffed cabbage, homemade rye bread slathered with butter and a tankard of beer.

Dale bought our roast beef today. A three-rib roast from the lean end. He puts it on a rack in the refrigerator to dry-age until Christmas. I’ve already made plum pudding for dessert. It’s all wrapped up and also aging, but on pantry shelf not the fridge.

And then there’s the tree. I’m usually opposed because I’m such a grinch, and it’s one less thing to do, but this year I said fuck it. Let’s be merry! And I will confess, merry doesn’t come cheap. I think Dale said it was almost $250. I told him he’d better put it up quick so we can at least get our cost-per-day down to a reasonable level.

The tree is in the garage but coming in today. In the spirit of being merry, I volunteered to unpack the decorations. We have boatloads of adorable hand-made wooden ornaments from when we were in Germany. Dale’s favorite, of course, is Santa riding a bomb. And I’m OK with that.

May your merry meters be pegged!

Less news, more color

A long time ago on a planet far, far away, I used to read a daily newspaper and then, you know, go off to live life. Isn’t that quaint? Then CNN came along – because the first one’s free, and I gradually became an instant news junkie.

Whenever I could get near a computer or phone, there I was checking the headlines, getting a fix from the church of what’s happening now. I considered myself a high-functioning addict and didn’t want to change a thing until the political stuff started messing with my head.

I wanted moderation not abstinence, so I fashioned myself a little rehab. In the morning, I read the local newspaper. It’s OK, but even sports scores aren’t current, so I allow myself to check a major news source once or twice a day just to see if anything big happened or, um, well, if someone in the limelight may have succumbed to an untimely passing.

While I never thought my attention span was compromised, I got used to the quick jolts, which really are just a distraction, and now I seem to be getting better at focusing on the moment. In some ways, it’s like switching from black and white to color.

For example, I’m paying more attention to simple sightings, like the color of the trees when I walk. The birds. The dogs and those who walk them. I procrastinate less when there are chores on the docket, because I refuse to sit around reading that stuff like I used to.

Not that I don’t dabble. I started to create a category for Krazy Kabinet Pick of the Week, but there were too many to choose from. We’ve talked about the stages of grief, and I think we forgot the one where you just laugh. Because, seriously, I choose not to be angry all the time, and I’m out of other options.

What I’m Reading

You know I love my crime fiction, but with this refreshed brain of mine, I thought it might be good to explore nonfiction. I went to the library and right there in the newly arrived section discovered Find More Birds by Heather Wolf. I was already noticing more birds, so it seemed like divine intervention.

What a great little book, which includes gorgeous photographs taken by the author. She offers 111 tips for spotting birds wherever you are and without necessarily becoming a serious birdwatcher.

Not that I might not go that route, but the book inspired me to take baby steps. Of course, I wait until December, when most of the birds that pass through our backyard have already moved on, but I’m not a quitter.

What I’m watching

As it happens, only the first episode of Van der Valk was super-gruesome. I’m on season 2, and it’s getting better all the time. I’m sort of loving these international crime dramas and now, thanks to your most excellent suggestions, I have a bunch more in my queue.

Mid-December also brings new episodes of All Creatures Great and Small. One of my golf buddies suggested this show, and I thought, oh, so not me. And it isn’t … but I love it nonetheless.

Dale recorded the Ken Burns documentary on Leonardo da Vinci. This is another one that would not normally be my thing, but you can’t go wrong with Ken Burns. Plus, Dale has a low tolerance for TV, so at least it’s something we might both enjoy.

What I’m eating

Our Thanksgiving feast was fab. The pumpkin cheesecake was pointing a gun to my head, so he’s in the freezer, experiencing the joys of timeout. In terms of leftovers, so far we’ve had cold turkey sandwiches, then a break for Dale’s homemade pizza with mushrooms, hot Italian sausage, fresh jalapeños and green olives.

Tonight is hot turkey sandwiches on toasted sourdough bread. The gravy was particularly good this year, so that should be delicious. I’m actually a gravy convert. My mother was not a good cook, so everything came out of a package. I didn’t taste the real thing until I met Dale, and I would say it was all over, but he already had me at roast duckling  à l’orange.

Today is when he breaks down the turkey. One whole breast will go in the freezer. He saves the carcass for stock, which I’m going to make in the slow cooker this year. But just the stock … I’ll make the soup itself on the cooktop. We have been enjoying Jane Brody’s turkey carcass soup recipe for many years.

I pulled out Jane’s 1985 cookbook yesterday and noticed it is subtitled, “Living the High-Carbohydrate Way.” Of course, we’re still into carbs at our house, but my, how times have changed.

Cheerfulness keeps breaking through

It’s possible that writing about being stuck with post-election stress and sharing our feelings in the comments section of this blog is helping me move on. Or maybe it’s just that the sun poked out through the rain clouds, and the limes in our backyard look glorious.

Like Leonard Cohen, I find that in spite of it all, cheerfulness keeps breaking through.

As I move toward acceptance and begin to rebuild my foundation of what it means to be an American, I expect I’ll have more to say … well .. about everything. Part of me wanted to withdraw from all of it, to be a complete social and political dropout, but I’ve decided not to surrender in advance.

We may be old and unemployed, but our voices matter. And yes, it’s possible to have warm and happy conversations with people who don’t think exactly like us. We must try harder. If all else fails, you can always pour your heart into a journal no one reads but you.

One of my favorite quotes is from the musician Patti Smith. Don’t forget she won the National Book Award, which means she can write, too.

“I’ve survived because I want to live. Even in our troubled world. Even with all the greed and stupidity and terrible things that we’re all facing… I want to be ALIVE. I want to BREATHE. I want to do MY WORK.”

What I’m Reading

I stumbled across a book at the library that combines crime fiction and time travel. It doesn’t get better than that! Wait, yes it does. It’s a series.

The first book is A Rip Through Time by Kelley Armstrong.  A Canadian homicide detective visiting Scotland is attacked and wakes up in another woman’s body … and it’s 1869. She finds herself a housemaid to an undertaker who moonlights as a medical examiner. He’s investigating a murder she believes is connected to her attack, and the story unfolds from there.

It looks like she gets stuck in the past, not that we all don’t, but the good news is there are five more books in the series.

What I’m watching

My PBS Masterpiece subscription is holding up over time. I dabble with other streaming services but end up canceling when a show I like is over. I’m looking at you, Hulu.

I just finished the second season of Ridley, which I liked very much and am hoping for another season soon. It’s a British police procedural with Alex Ridley as a former detective inspector who was forced out due to personal tragedy but brought back as a consultant to solve crimes.

Ridley co-owns a jazz club and usually sings at least once per episode. I thought the singing was weird at first but grew to like it.

Last night I watched the first episode of Van der Valk featuring a detective in Amsterdam. I like it, but there was a gruesome finish, and I’m not sure I’ll last long if that’s the norm. As a back-up plan, I’ve been shopping around for another British show. I may give Annika another try. I like Nicola Walker a lot but am not a fan of “direct address.” I believe that’s the technique used where she talks directly to the audience. Still if no throats are slit, I could get used to it.

What I’m eating

Tonight is leftover baked beans with toast from Dale’s homemade bread. Tomorrow I’m giving the slow cooker another run at it and am making beef and barley soup. I decided to use bone-in beef ribs for the meat and was surprised at how expensive they are – like $15 per pound. But it should make for a great soup with at least two servings for the freezer. And we never go out to eat, so I don’t really worry about it.

For Thanksgiving, Dale will do the turkey. He brines it and then stuffs it with a Maine-style dressing made with potatoes, stale bread and assorted seasoning. I’m known in these parts as Side Dish Mama and will be making green beans almondine, mashed potatoes and cranberry sauce. I make the cranberry sauce from the recipe on the back of the bag. Delicious!

Dessert is pumpkin cheesecake with bourbon sour cream topping. And graham cracker crust … an all-time favorite. One whole turkey breast and most of the cheesecake will go to the freezer. Our freezer food is spectacular.

In the meantime, I continue to enjoy my protein smoothies for breakfast or lunch. Here’s my new favorite.

Cherry Chocolate Smoothie

In a high-speed blender mix:

¾ cup milk (I use soy)

1 cup frozen cherries

A glug of maple syrup

A small glug of vanilla extract

A scoop of unflavored protein powder

A shake (maybe a tablespoon) of cacao nibs

Stuck

I’m still stuck on the election results. I’ve started draft after draft of a post explaining my feelings, but they all got deleted in the end. Maybe with time I can talk about it coherently, but for now, I just need to find a way to think about other things.

While I’m not saying it’s a good thing to drop out or back away from our civic responsibilities, the short-term answer may be to focus on simple pleasures and enjoy the time that has been given to us.

And so I’ve been dabbling in retail therapy. My priority was fuzzy slippers, but I’m picky about shoes. Although I have some boots that are grandfathered, retirement footwear specs include only Hoka and Birkenstock. I’m pleased to report I successfully procured shearling-lined Birkenstocks.

As I was thinking about how to describe them, I was reminded of a woman we knew years ago who was quite frugal, perhaps unnecessarily so, but that’s how she rolled. She made her children drink powdered milk for a long time, but then she decided to upgrade to regular milk from the dairy aisle. One of the kids said, “Mommy, this milk is thick and rich!”

That’s how I feel about my slippers. Believe me, they are good for what ails you.

You may recall I purchased a slow cooker a couple of years ago, but it failed to cook anything at any speed, so I returned it. That model has been discontinued … yay to a little validation that it’s not me. To celebrate, I purchased a new one, which was launched this week with jalapeño pulled pork. Delicious!

I’ve spent much of this rainy day browsing slow cooker recipes so my bundle of joy can embark on its next culinary journey. Food might be the ultimate cure for the blues. Dale’s making pizza tonight with garlic parmesan bechamel for the base … topped with mozzarella, smoked gouda, smoked salmon, capers, red onions and chopped tomatoes.

Tomorrow is a New England thing called beans and bread. We get heirloom beans from his family in Maine. We’ve always known them as Marafax, but I’ve seen them on the Internet as Marfax. He bakes those in the oven with dry mustard and salt pork. Then a pan of big puffy yeast rolls and cabbage salad – which is like coleslaw but with green olives and celery seeds.

Then we start the countdown to Thanksgiving. I’m making pumpkin cheesecake this year.

My sister was here last week, and we had a great visit. She’s quite the crafter and lives in a rural area without a lot of retail options, so let’s just say shopping was involved. We went to Hobby Lobby, which I loathe because of all that conservative Christian rhetoric, but it really was the mother ship, so I’m glad I was able to give her that experience. We got the “have a blessed day” at the cash register, and I was annoyed at first, but then I thought, oh well, anyone anywhere saying anything nice. Take it.

And I did actually buy two Christmas cookie tins and a nice piece of wood for my art. I love my scrappy pallets, but sometimes I yearn for pristine wood, so now I have it. Praise the board!

Nothing else to share right now, but I wanted to check in and say hi. In addition to my post-election funk, for some reason the barometric pressure changes hit me hard this year and everything hurts. I looked it up, the barometric pressure effects – and it looks to be a real thing. Like many Americans, I always feel better backed by nebulous facts.

A week of disappointments

As you might expect, I am disappointed and heartsick over the election results. I’ve lived through lots of elections, and this is not about being pissed off my candidate didn’t win. This is about an existential threat to the American experiment.

I have come to believe I am totally disconnected from roughly half the country. I don’t understand their problems, their grievances, their needs, their wants and why they think Trump can or will help. I don’t understand misogyny and racism or how people can attend his rallies and listen to his fury and vitriol and then, for example, join in a chant that Harris is a bitch.

A whole bunch of people either got sucked into this cult of hate or chose to ignore the facts and vote for him anyway. For what reason, I do not know. Our government is flawed, no doubt, but I can’t understand why so many people are mad enough about something to burn down the house. Democracy will be tested, that’s for sure.

Color me clueless. Dale and I were both depressed, so he made chimichangas for dinner. For a treat, he went salty, crunchy and processed with a bag of Cheetos. Not that I’m judging … it’s a fine choice. I, on the other hand, went with the over-fishing option and bought a fancy jar of tuna filets packed in olive oil. They’re expensive, but so delicious, and I was like, fuck it.

I’ll probably need more chocolate.

On one hand, I want to withdraw. Who are these people? This isn’t the country I thought it was. But there I go, thinking again. Instead, I will avoid political discussions, find whatever common ground there is and just try to be kind and enjoy life with other humans.

My sister is visiting next week! She hasn’t been able to come down since we moved here seven years ago, so it will be fun to play host. She lives in a relatively remote area, and we have all the big chains here, so shopping may be on the docket. Lunch out. Definitely a trip to Trader Joe’s. And probably our favorite winery out in Amador. It’s beautiful out there, and the wine’s great.

I haven’t been inspired to work on my art in months, but maybe it was the election being over that freed up my brain, so that’s good. I have lots of new ideas.

My favorite duck at the golf course died, so I want to do a little tribute to him on one of my boards. He was big white duck, the only white one out there and super-friendly. I only learned after they found him dead that everyone was feeding him. All this time, I thought he liked me.

Let’s just say it was a week of disappointments.

Candy. Here. Now go away.

So, Halloween. I used to like it. I don’t know what happened other than a few decades of accumulated grumpiness.

Random people ringing my doorbell at night freaks me out. Hoards of them. Adults, children. And costumes, hiding their devious little faces! I just want to put a big bucket outside with a sign that says, candy. Here. Now go away. Or maybe leave the candy scattered throughout the yard like an Easter egg hunt. That could work. Instead, we turn off the lights and hope for the best.

I also worry about the cat. They are sneaky little guys, and I could see me opening the door and Riley slipping outside for a smoke. We could lock him up somewhere upstairs, but that doesn’t seem right. It’s his house, too.

Maybe I could watch Young Frankenstein in honor of Teri Garr, who passed away this week. What knockers! That is one of my all-time favorite movies ever. Speaking of Mel Brooks, we watched Spaceballs the other night. Very funny, and I vowed to use the term ludicrous speed at least weekly.

We watched the original Dracula last week. It’s pretty good, but we didn’t make it all the way through. We aim for shlocky movies on pizza night, and the minimum requirement is that it lasts through the pizza.

I never enjoyed horror in fiction or in life, but I’ve come to appreciate what’s sometimes called comedy horror. We lean toward animals gone rogue. The best ones don’t take themselves too seriously and are only marginally gross. While it’s hard to top Zombeavers, I also like Llamageddon, Lavalantula and all the Sharnados.

My knee et all is manageable, so I’m back to golf, etc. I will still see my primary care physician in late November, but in the meantime, I’m trying to think of pain in a new way. It’s a sensory experience emanating from my brain. That’s it. Don’t attach emotions to it – don’t cry why me, don’t worry about what I can or cannot do because of it. It’s just a thing.

To celebrate the arrival of cooler weather, I bought a few new items from Athleta to get me in the spirit of things. I particularly love the Venice High Rise Cargo Jogger. Super- comfy and great pockets! Athleta is not cheap, but for me, the quality and fit is excellent.

Actually, I would like to be an Athleta brand ambassador. I don’t think they have such a thing, particularly if you are old and gray and can’t do yoga, but it’s practically all I wear now that I’m retired. Maybe I could get a discount!

Oh, to be oblivious

I’ll spare you the excruciating details, but my knees et al turned into quite the sciatic flare-up, and I’ve behaved badly … whining incessantly about the weather being gorgeous, and who is not playing golf? Dale is ready to throw me out the window, and even the cat hates me. I have been able to walk a little bit every day, so that’s good.

I’m on the mend, but I have long-term issues that need to be resolved. I’ve been reluctant to go on the meds such as Lyrica or Gabapentin, figuring I’m better off abusing Advil once or twice a year. But now I don’t know. I’ll see what my primary care physician has to say when I see her toward the end of next month – the soonest I could get in.

The thing about a flare-up is that it makes you appreciate any day you wake up and feel pretty good. Staying strong and healthy is important to me, but I tend to overdo everything and have a hard time leaving well enough alone. Perhaps I see more complacency in my future. Kinder, gentler, slower, easier – these are the words that are starting to resonate. Forgive me if I’ve said that before, but maybe you have to say it 10 times for it to stick.

On the food front, I made my annual kabocha squash red curry, which is absolutely utterly fantastic. It’s a great fall dish, especially since the pomegranates are in season. I cut the recipe in half, and it makes enough for two and a leftover. If you make it, the timing is off. The squash is done at about 20 minutes or less, definitely not 45.

I had some pomegranate seeds leftover and sprinkled showered some on top of yogurt and granola. If that isn’t already a thing, it should be.  

Dale, the neighborhood watch, just came into tell me there’s some kind of a mummies convention going on down the street. I thought, wow, they are taking Halloween to a new level around here. But he meant mummies as in mommies with strollers. I just hope they’re not the mad yoga moms with guns and stuff. I suspect that’s a demographic in our neighborhood.

I wonder about the mad moms, because there’s a local election, and I see a fair number of signs for a candidate emphasizing school choice, which would allow parents to use our tax dollars to send their kids to private schools. Even though I am a childless cat lady, I’m all about supporting public education!

The good news is I have not seen a single sign for the presidential candidates. It’s better this way. I was daydreaming about how great it will be when this election is over, except it’s probably not going to be over like it used to be over. I’m trying to let go and pay less attention to the whole business, but it seems I’m hard-wired to stay connected to the state of the union.

Perhaps I’ll be oblivious in my next life. Something to look forward to!

Streaming blues

I said I wouldn’t whine about creaky body parts, so I won’t, but I will share that my problematic knee turned savage, and I’ve been nursing that traitorous wretch back to health. You think you know a knee, and then it pulls something like this.

Physical therapy, or physical tyranny as I’ve been calling it lately, has been life-changing for me, but I’ll be having a heart-to-heart with my guy later today. I give him full credit for helping me strengthen my core and pretty much eliminate lower back pain, but I’m no longer on board with the concept of strengthening my quadricep muscle to fix my knee.

I know that’s the standard, but in my case, lunges and squats do more harm than good. They are dead to me. I’m calling it a farewell to harms.

Fortunately, I’ve had a good book to help me ride out the storm. While crime fiction is my default, I occasionally like to read science fiction and fantasy. The library had Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros. It’s about a young woman who attends a brutal war college for dragon riders, and I enjoyed it very much. It’s a trilogy, and I just picked up the second one from the library. The third comes out this month, I think.

And so I find myself with the streaming blues. I love the choices available these days, but I hate burning through a show only to find it’s the end of the season, and there are no assurances there will be another one. All that emotional investment, and then it’s wait and see.

Still, I’m weak and continue to watch, even though I know I’ll soon be left high and dry. I’m mostly thinking of Hulu and The Old Man with Jeff Bridges. I have one more episode, and then who knows? Next year, maybe? The show is based on the The Old Man by Thomas Perry. He’s a prolific writer. I really loved his Jane Whitefield series and highly recommend them. The first one is Vanishing Act.

I also burned through some of my PBS shows, including Hotel Portofino. I need to stop around for a new one over there.

Back to Hulu. I liked Shogun, which is a limited series. How great, I thought, that I don’t have to wait for new seasons. I thought the finale was just perfect and was at peace with it being over. Then I went online to read more about the actors, only to discover the show has been such a success they plan to produce one or even two more seasons. That just pisses me off.  They’ve already killed off my favorite character, so I’m kind of over it.

The bright side is there’s almost always something around the bend. Season 3 of The Lincoln Lawyer drops Oct. 17 on Amazon Prime. That show is based on Mickey Haller books by Michael Connelly. Speaking of Michael Connelly books, The Waiting, featuring Harry Bosch and Renée Ballard, is out Oct. 15! I’m pretty sure I’ll end up buying that one.

The weather has finally turned cooler, so I’m starting to get excited about fall foods. I adore pumpkin, especially in savory dishes, and I have a boatload of recipes I’ve been saving. It’s a matter of choosing which one. Some recipes call for fresh pumpkin or butternut squash, and others use canned pumpkin. I’m actually a big fan of canned pumpkin, but I’m good with any of the above.

Dale wants to make chili. The question is beef or chili verde with pork. Both are spectacular. He is of the opinion that beans do not belong in chili. He also uses stew meat – nothing ground.

Our election ballots arrived in the mail, so that’s on the docket. I’m quite nervous about the whole thing, but I still have hope Kamala can pull it off. I simply can’t understand how it can even be close. If you haven’t checked out my one-pager about Trump’s shameful pattern of disrespect for the military, you can find it here.

The HOA ate my newspaper

We are apparently among the few who still get a newspaper delivered daily. It’s not all that great of a newspaper as newspapers go, but these are trying times for print journalism, and we can’t give it up anymore than we could give up our morning coffee.

While I don’t have firm numbers, I would guess the newspaper is soaking wet 20 percent of the time. Certainly, rain can be the culprit, even when the newspaper is bagged in plastic, but most of the time it’s due to our sprinklers watering the driveway.

Our front yard is maintained by the homeowner’s association, so for quite some time, years, really, we tolerated wet newspapers because it seemed like a better alternative than talking to someone at the homeowner’s association. My husband tried microwaving the newspaper to dry it, but that caused a fire in the microwave, so now he puts it in the oven at 350 degrees until it crisps up a bit.

After one too many wet newspapers, we said, enough is enough! I called the HOA and left a message because no one ever actually answers the phone over there. No one returned my call, but a few days later, there was a leave-behind stuffed under the door to let us know the sprinkler heads had been adjusted.

Not long after, there was another wet newspaper. This time I took a picture and printed it out. I circled the newspaper in red and wrote, “wet newspaper.” I also circled puddles of water at the bottom of the driveway. I wrote our name and address on the bottom and marched gently sauntered over to the HOA.

The outer door was open so you could get in the lobby area, but no one was home. There was a sign that they were out for some sort of something … team building? Maybe even the trust fall but probably not customer service. Anyway, we could leave paperwork in the basket. Which I did. And took some candy from the bowl, too.

I hear nothing, so several wet newspapers later, I went back to the HOA. They were home! I knew the person in charge was Cassandra or Lisbeth or some other sort of new-age name, but to me, she’s Oz. Instead, I got Becky or Cathy, the backbone of the organization, who listened to all my questions and then would go back and talk to Oz and then come back and tell me what Oz said, which was not much more than, “We’re working on it.”

At one point, I suggested they change the timers to water at midnight, so the whole show would be over by the time our newspaper was delivered. She said just a minute, went into the back and returned accompanied by the elusive Oz, whose manicure, by the way, was impeccable.

Oz said they can’t change the timers, but they will replace the sprinkler heads with a different type that should prevent this problem in the future. In fact, it was happening today! Such good news and what a coincidence.

I thanked her and explained that I know it’s probably not a common problem, as we are among the few who still get a newspaper. She said she understood, that she loves the smell of a fresh newspaper.

“I wouldn’t know. We  have to bake ours, and the smell is quite unpleasant.”

Maybe it was something I said, but I don’t think they’ve been here yet. That’s OK. One way or another, this will get fixed. I’m retired. I have lots of time and lots of ideas.