Trigger points

Just a little question for other bloggers … are you getting AI comments? Mine go straight to the spam folder, but the first one looked so real I unspammed it and responded. Then I started getting more, so I now just delete them.

The level of detail is quite amazing. Sort of like my best friend commenting on every single thought I shared in the post and asking probing questions to stimulate dialogue. If that really is you best friend, I apologize for comparing you to artificial intelligence.

This is probably why I was never popular.

I’ve had some promising news on the creaky body parts countdown to eternity. As background, I exercise, stretch and strengthen religiously, but I still have a multitude of issues. I suppose it’s age, but I also wonder if my cancer history plays a role. No estrogen since 1999, and I believe that contributes to musculoskeletal problems. But hey, I’m alive, so yay!

I used to say I had three areas that needed constant attention – knees, back and wrists. I’ve been in physical therapy for about 15 months, and we’ve made excellent progress on all three.

But then my shoulder and arm started bothering me three months ago. Simple things like putting on a sweater is excruciating, but golf is OK. I finally got in to see the sports medicine doctor, who believes the issue is trigger points in my shoulder referring pain down my arm.

I don’t completely understand it all, but I guess trigger points are muscles that knot up for various reasons, including overuse. That’s probably me. I got new golf clubs this year, and I went to the driving range way more than I typically go, and hitting off mats doesn’t help.

It seems the solution is to somehow get the trigger points to release. Massage helps. Rolling up against a tennis ball – anything that puts pressure on those knots. I’ve also been doing a slew of exercises to strengthen the shoulder.

For some immediate relief, the doctor used dry needling. It sounds horrible, but I never saw the needle, and it didn’t hurt. He finds those tender spots, inserts the needle, and you can feel the muscle twitch and pulse. It’s wild. The doctor said it could be a case of one and done, but I might need to come back for a tune-up.

The shoulder and the arm are much better, but I will probably have to go back. I was afraid he was going to tell me to stop playing golf, but he said do everything you can possibly do. No restrictions. I might have some pain along the way, but as an active “aging” adult, some pain is to be expected. But he can help get it from a 7 to a 2 on the pain scale and to think of it as something that can be managed.

I like that mentality. In the absence of illness or serious injury, just keep going. I played golf two days in a row this week. I usually try to skip a day but thought, what the hell? I was no worse for the wear, but it did get a little weird.

A friend and I were paired with two women we didn’t know. One of them was decidedly unfriendly. Talk about trigger points! She made everything harder than it had to be, and it was frustrating.

As we reached our final hole, she looked us dead in the eye and said, “This is the last hole.” We’re like, yeah, OK, sure. Then she said it again is this creepy Grim Reaper voice.

“This is the last hole.”

My friend looked up and said, “Forever?’

I cannot stop laughing about that. Seriously, I have tears in my eyes right now.

And on that note, I leave you with fresh cherry scones with lime drizzle.

Art will find a way

Not that it hasn’t been fun to watch the biglicious brawl between Trump and Musk, but I’m not sure any of it is real. I’ve long suspected Elon was worming his way into Trump’s good graces to ultimately push him out of office so the tech right can get their boy JD in place. Sure, it’s a bit of a conspiracy theory, but I wouldn’t rule it out.

On the other hand, it could be a distraction not unlike staged professional wrestling matches, and that would explain why Linda McMahon has a job. While we’re watching the sideshow, Republicans will line up behind their man and pass his horrid spending bill.

Me? I’m hoping the breakup is real. I was reading all about it yesterday at my desk and moved to the couch to make myself more comfortable for the duration. The only thing missing was popcorn. I couldn’t wait to get up this morning, figuring those whack jobs were up all night, but it looks like they actually went to bed at some point. You know, nothing good happens after 10 p.m.

So, yes, I’m eager to see the Epstein files, but then I never gave up on the pee pee tapes, either. Just a crazy kid with a dream. It’s not a stretch to imagine Musk had access to a lot of dirt while ferreting through our government records.

I seem to remember Tom Arnold saying someone had tapes of Trump using the n-word while filming his TV show. I believe Amazon has the rights to all footage and outtakes, so I wouldn’t bet those will ever see the light of day.

But you never can tell. All I know is that I know nothing. Nothing. It’s like living in Bizarro World. I am so sick of these people.

Time to focus on simple pleasures. I have a few achy breaky body parts right now, but it’s nothing serious, and I’m moving my way through the pain. I had a nice walk this morning. As my massage therapist says, motion is lotion. She was complimenting me on my exercise regime, and I said, well, it’s all good, but geez, I still hurt. She said that’s because you’re alive! You’re moving, and you’re getting stronger!

Thanks, I needed that.

Dale made fajitas, as promised, and we ate outside. I followed through on my commitment to set the music up in advance, and we started with The Clash, probably my all-time favorite group. We even danced a little. Glad there are no tapes of that.

Then we switched to Bruce Springsteen, another favorite. He has been a strong voice for democracy, and it made me realize more than ever how art can make a difference. Creative people have been having a field day with all this Trump stuff, and I love it. No matter what happens, there will always be artists to bring reality to life.

That revelation inspired me to start a new piece of woodburning art. This is a work-in-progress. I typically use pallet scraps, but this is wood I purchased. It’s nice, but I sort of like the rustic nature of pallets. This piece is larger, so it has been fun to go big.

I’ve burned all the images, and now I’m beginning to paint. I usually start with the things I want to reproduce in their colors of origin. For example, I know I want the cherry on the hot fudge sundae to be red. I get that sort of stuff done first, so I know where those colors are. Then I can go crazy with pink cats or whatever.

As you can see, there’s a huge sunflower up and front. I copied it from the internet, but yesterday I saw an actual sunflower, and mine doesn’t look like that. Let’s just say mine is a loose interpretation of what a sunflower could be.

Art will find a way.

We made it to June

No use complaining about the daily onslaught of dreadful news. The upside is we made it to June. And now here it is, bustin’ out all over.

At least we had beer for the journey. But just because we can’t have nice things, today’s newspaper reported Track 7, our favorite local brewery, is closing permanently. No reasons were provided, but I assume it’s related to the economy.  

Does that mean it’s Biden’s fault?

We’re currently featuring Track 7’s Panic IPA in the kegerator, so we shall propose a farewell toast before that kicks. Perhaps we’ll head on over to Total Wines & More and see if there’s a spare keg to be had. We have room in the kegerator for a backup.

These are the times that try men’s souls. Thankfully, we still have Jameson Black Barrel. Proof God wants us to be happy.

Speaking of men, not to be confused with God, I was reading an article about the history of the LGBTQ movement in Washington, D.C., and they quoted a lesbian who said it was so great to find a community of women who didn’t exist to please men. Maybe I signed up for the wrong team.

Although I do my best to please one man, I have pretty much ignored the rest of it. I never dressed the part, never acted the part. I did what I had to do to get by at work, where pleasing men was a core competency. That said, my career highlights included catering to the whims of high-ranking women.

One female boss told me I’d be pretty if I wore a little makeup. In another job, I briefed a woman exec and asked if she had any questions. She said, “Wherever did you get those ugly shoes?”

Ugly as in comfortable. Teetering around on stilettos was never my thing. Take it from me, you gotta be ready to run.

Anyway, I was in communications … or PR as we used to call it. Dale always said that stood for porking the rich. Special events were always a showcase for privileged buffoons behaving badly. Communicators were deeply involved in planning special events, and by the time they were over, I hated everyone.

The stories I could tell!!  

Being retired and turning 70 this year, I can honestly say it feels good to ignore the pressure to please anyone except Dale and possibly my cat. Not that either one notices. As I have said before, the bad news is that my self-editing feature seems to be down. I tried rebooting it, but I’m still spewing a lot of things that might be better left unsaid.

On the food front, I made waffles last week, and they were delicious. I never order them in a restaurant because you usually get fake maple syrup. I only want the real thing, which I could drink from the bottle like Buddy from Elf.

I wanted another run on the waffles, but ever eager to please my man, we went with buckwheat pancakes, another family favorite. Dale buys bulk breakfast sausage and then freezes them in small patties. So we each had one of those on the side.

The cherry season is here! I never liked cherries until last year, and now I love them. I even bought a cherry pitter. We went to the farmer’s market this morning, and I bought a basket for $6. That seemed steep, but what isn’t? I also bought a big bag of walnuts.

Dale’s making fajitas tonight. He’s whipping up the marinade for the meat now. We went to Safeway for tortillas because we didn’t have the right size. And I say that as someone with a drawer in the refrigerator dedicated to tortillas. We also have a cheese drawer.

It was beastly hot yesterday but nice today, so we’ll eat outside. We always wait until the last minute to set up the music, so then we don’t. But this time I’m getting it all prepped in advance. Nothing like some good tunes to liven up the party.

That, and homemade fudgsicles for dessert!

Not quite broken

Maybe I’m dreaming, but it’s like something switched over in me, and I’ve become quite good at managing the daily Trump dump. I know it’s there, this brutal attack on democratic values, and I refuse to look away, but I found a place to park it in my brain where it doesn’t drive me crazy every single day.

Oh, and don’t ask for help because I have no idea how I finally got there or if it will last. All I know is that it felt like everything was broken, and it occurred to me I didn’t survive cancer twice to be this miserable over things I can’t control.  

I’ve been feeling good. Not quite broken after all. We are planning to join a June 14 protest. This would be in opposition to Trump’s multi-million dollar, tax-payer funded military parade in Washington, D.C. for his 79th birthday. I am reminded that my mother died on her birthday.

What I’m eating

My sourdough has been giving me fits. The last few loaves tasted good, but I wasn’t getting the rise I want. I did a bit of troubleshooting and came to the conclusion my starter isn’t strong enough. When you feed starter, you are also supposed to discard some of it. I always felt that was wasteful, even though I know you can save the discard and use it for other things. So, I didn’t do it.

But discarding some of the starter each time you feed it strengthens the brew. I guess mine was too diluted. I went back to discarding, and sure enough, my starter perked up. This last loaf looks great to me!  

I made spanakopita this week. That would be layers of buttered phyllo dough stuffed with spinach, feta cheese, eggs and yogurt – and then seasoned with onion, garlic, dill, mint, lemon zest and nutmeg. And sprinkles of Pecorino Romano cheese between the layers. Baked until crispy golden brown. It’s normally an appetizer, but I cut larger pieces, and we ate it as an entrée.

Both of us have quite a Mexican Jones going on most of the time. This week, I made slow cooker jalapeño pulled pork and used the filling to make oven-baked taquitos. Dale made a white queso for dipping, plus we had some homemade salsa verde.

There was a wee mishap with the slow cooker. Mine came with a temperature probe, which I have never used. In one of my fuzzier moments I put the probe in the bottom of the base unit for safe keeping and then put the ceramic liner on top. I never realized the probe was still there.

The pork was perfect, but when I took out the liner so I could put it in the dishwasher, I saw something odd stuck to the base unit and then icky brown stuff around it like blood from a crime scene. I thought, why, that looks like the probe!

Dale was able to pry it off, and while the probe is toast, the slow cooker seems no worse for the wear.

What I’m watching

Many thanks to Sheila, a friend here at Retirement Confidential, for alerting me to a new season of The Mountain Detective on PBS Passport.

I confess to watching Reacher on Amazon Prime. That was part of my stress epiphany. Per my boycott, I’m still spending next to nothing on Amazon, but I love my digital content and decided Jeff can have a few bucks if it makes me happy.

What I’m reading

I mentioned Jar City in an earlier post. This is the first in a crime series by Icelandic writer Arnaldur Indriðason featuring Inspector Elendur. I’ve since read two more, and I believe there are 11 in the series. This might be my favorite new-to-me series.

The Cold, Cold Ground is the first Detective Sergeant Sean Duffy novel by Adrian McKinty. The setting is 1980s Ireland. Complex politics, sometimes hard to follow, but I liked it very much. There are eight books in the series.

I’m a fan of the Irish crime series by Benjamin Black featuring Quirke, a pathologist in Dublin during the 1950s. There’s also a Boston connection. Christine Falls is the first of seven. The Silver Swan was number two, and I have number three by my bedside.

World of Trouble was the finale to The Last Policeman trilogy. The story is about what happens to people and families when they believe an asteroid will destroy Earth in a matter of months. For a grim subject, it’s an entertaining read. At first I didn’t like the ending, but it haunts me. There is darkness, yet there is light. Detective Hank Palace is a character you will not soon forget.

Just this morning I finished The Summer Guests by Tess Gerritsen. This is second after The Martini Club about a group of retired CIA agents in Maine. Highly entertaining. Now I want to explore her other novels.

I’ve read three of the Veronica Speedwell novels by Deanna Raybourn. The first was A Curious Beginning. The setting is Victorian England, and Veronica is an adventurous natural historian who specializes in butterflies. Due to unforeseen circumstances, she partners with another natural historian to solve crimes. He also happens to be sort of hunky. Such great escapism, and there are nine in the series. Yay.

Last but not least, I started the Maisie Dobbs series by Jacqueline Winspear. The first is actually titled Maisie Dobbs. A former servant, she evolves to become a nurse during World War I and returns home to continue her education and become a private investigator slash psychologist. If I got this right, there are 18 books in the series. Double yay. 

Make America nice again

Although my sister and I were raised Catholic, my mother had a loose interpretation of her role in our religious upbringing. I have a vague memory of being confirmed around age 13 but a vivid recollection of my mom’s reaction.

Once that box was checked, we could decide for ourselves how to proceed along our spiritual path. Her job was done. With no further ado, I opted out of all religious activity and never looked back.

All that to say I was surprised by my reaction to the new pope. I’m a little weepy with joy. Normally, I would not give a hoot one way or the other, but this guy arrives at a time when a compassionate American voice with over a billion followers is much needed and more than welcome.

Someone whose spiritual beliefs run deeper than mine said it was like God said whoa, these people need some help. While I’m still suspicious about all things religious, it does give me hope to believe that not everyone in the public eye is full of hate and retribution.

Make America nice again!

In other news, Dale and I have both been nursing creaky body parts. Knees, back – you name it. I attribute it all to stress. We’re both fiery balls of anger these days, and it’s not a good thing. We thought a punching bag might be useful, I mean, a real one not just each other. But I figured that would lead to more injuries. Maybe a rage room?

I’ve been working hard to lighten up. Balance civic responsibility with simple pleasures. Forgive, forget. All that. And it helps! Dale, ever the stoic Mainer, refused to say he’s doing anything different, but I drop little positivity bombs on him when he’s not looking, and I think they help him, too. We’re just not meant to be this mad all the time.

We’re talking about more local travel. Trying restaurants again. Maybe we’ll get lucky. I quickly realized my golf attire is probably not suitable for going out. Which means I went shopping. I haven’t worn jeans in years, mostly because I love all the stretchy stuff from Atheta. But I actually went into real stores and discovered denim has come a long way.

I guess skinny jeans are still there, but the choices are much improved. One current look I love is the loose-fitting wide-legged jean. I bought one high-end pair at Nordstrom and one inexpensive pair at Kohl’s. They are both lightweight and will be great for summer. And I bought new t-shirts to go with. If and when we venture out again, I will be ready!

Since I’m such an insecure shopper, I had to text my young stylish friend and get her opinion. If you can get past my filthy bathroom mirror, you will see these are the Paige jeans from Nordstrom. I couldn’t get the full-length view, but they are quite flared and slightly cropped. My adviser approved! I had buyer’s remorse that night, but I’m keeping them.

It has been so long since I did any serious shopping in a store, but it does make a difference to actually see the clothes and try them on. I loved the selection of jeans for normal people. Shorts were in short supply, so I went for flowy pants.

Maybe this is all part of my turning-70-this-year phase, but I want to look a little better when I’m out and about. I was at the library in my workout gear and a hat because my hair looked so bad, and there was this older woman in nice jeans with her hair all groomed, and I thought, OK, I can do better.

Next stop is the hair. I’ve been growing out the bob, and the question is whether I go back to it or keep going so I can wear it up. I did love it when my hair was longer and I could always count on a quick updo when I needed to go somewhere. The bob was cute and suited my hair type, but it requires a daily blow-dry, and you know, I’m retired. No time for that!

Finally, I finally finished Number 43, which took a year. What with the election and all. It’s not my best work, but I like it nonetheless. The duck is a tribute to my favorite golf course duck that died last year.

I experimented with an engraver (the two globes on the right) and didn’t like it much. I might try again with different wood.

Smoke ’em if you got ’em

When the weather got warm, I said cool, maybe we should go somewhere. Stay at a fancy hotel, eat some fancy food? Just a little overnighter to shake off the first 100 days. We’re losing money like everyone else, but I thought, what the hell, smoke ‘em if you got ‘em.

That’s a military expression that might translate to spend it before you die.

It was good to get away, but I guess we’re not fancy people. The hotel was just OK, and the restaurant sucked. The whole trip felt like one giant rip-off. We couldn’t wait to head for home.

The kitty was happy to see us, mostly because the weather turned cold again, and the heat quit while we were gone.  

I called the HVAC people, and a cheery little voice answered, “Thank you for calling California Heating and Air, how can I make you smile?” Well, you could skip all that for starters, but I did not say that in my outside voice. I explained the situation, and they scheduled a technician for Saturday morning.

But then the heat started working, and we were not eager to have someone in our space. I called back and canceled.

Then the heat quit working. I could not bear the thought of hearing that cheery little voice again and was prepared to ride out the storm, but Dale convinced me to call and see if we could get back on the schedule. Yes, they said, we would be second up on Saturday morning.

The guy arrives and goes up into the attic where the unit resides and comes down with a dead bird in a plastic bag. Something about a clog in the system. We paid almost $100 for the visit.

But then the heat kept cranking and cranking. Dale turned it off completely, but it wouldn’t quit. Within a few hours, the temperature was 80 and rising. I called back, and they still wanted to know how they could make me smile.

As it happens, the guy could come back later in the afternoon. I almost smiled but not quite.

We really didn’t think he would show, and the only thing we could figure out was flipping the breaker. It was after 5 p.m. when he arrived, and he headed straight for the attic. He mistakenly left what looked like baby jumper cables, which I presume helped him start the system manually. Except it stayed on manual.

Once he retrieved the cables, the heat returned to normal. The guy was nice, and it was the end of the day, and I was about to pour a shot of Jameson Black Barrel. Enjoying it before the tariffs kick in. I offered him a shot, but he said he had two more stops to make. I guess his Saturday sucked more than ours.

I made stacked bison enchiladas loaded with melted cheddar cheese and topped with a runny fried egg, and we watched the season finale of Matlock. I said, well, this week turned into kind of a bust. Dale said, well, yeah, but that counts as a jazzed up couple of days for us. Pathetic but true.

Once again, I need to re-think our travel strategy. We really aren’t that eager to go anywhere, but we both find the change of pace and scenery is good for us. There are plenty of great places within a short drive. But we need to figure out what makes us happy, and fancy ain’t it.

I believe our days of fine dining are over. As foodies, our expectations are as high as the prices, and the quality of food just isn’t worth it these days.

On the reading front, I enjoyed Jar City, the first in a crime series by Icelandic author Arnaldur Indriðason featuring Inspector Erlendur. I liked it very much, and it looks like there are 11 of them! Iceland uses first names for phone books and such, so my library catalogues these books under A for Arnaldur.

One small step and then another one

One day this week I opened the morning newspaper and just laid my head down on the table and cried. The sad part is I don’t even remember what it was. There’s something new every day, and there’s no bottom.

Like so many people, I’ve overcome a lot in life, and after the drama of youth, I’m happy to be happy. On the cusp of 70, I want to enjoy my time on the planet and ignore everything that isn’t pleasant. But there’s a tiny problem. I have all these quotes dancing around in my head, and one of them is about what happens when good men do nothing. Something about the triumph of evil.

I keep singing Guns of Brixton. The Clash.

The money feels good
And your life you like it well
But surely your time will come
As in Heaven as in Hell

Or maybe a little Pink Floyd. Wish You Were Here.

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from hell? Blue skies from pain?
Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil? Do you think you can tell?

So, I guess I’m in it. Not happily, I’ll admit that. I try not to think about it all the time. I try to remember I still have a great life, and there is much goodness and beauty to behold. Dale and I still make each other laugh. I’ll write what I need to write, say what I need to say, donate money to organizations fighting the good fight and otherwise protest when I can.

One small step and then another one.

For the record, NostraDonna predicted weeks ago that Trump and his cronies were using tariffs to game the stock market. I Googled it multiple times and found nothing to support my suspicions. Even Dale said, oh, no, that’s a stretch. Now, insider trading news is all over the place, and I hope somebody somewhere gets nailed over it.

What I’m eating

We had leftover roast chicken, so Dale made chicken tortilla soup yesterday, and it was spectacular. I grew up eating Mexican food in Southern California, but I had never even heard of this until sometime in the 90s and had my first bowl in South Carolina, if you can believe that.

Ours is a spicy base made with fire roasted tomatoes, garlic, onions and poblano peppers seasoned with a Pendery’s chili powder called Fire and Smoke (not for the feint of heart). The shredded chicken goes in toward the end. We serve it in big bowls, and then we each do our own toppings – crumbled queso fresco, chopped cilantro, avocado chunks, fried tortilla strips and a wedge of lime. A frosty beer to go with!

The recipe makes four servings, so we freeze half of it. When that second one goes, we’re always thinking about roasting another chicken just so we can have the soup again. We never get sick of it.

Over the weekend, Dale grilled a chuck roast. We called it Chunk ‘O Beef. I am sometimes known as Side Dish Mama, so to live up to the hype, I made zucchini sauteed with onions and mushrooms along with potato halves stuffed with sour cream and chives and topped with cheddar cheese. It was warm enough to eat outside, which was great.

I know the price of eggs is all the rage, but someone needs to investigate the price of chives. I should really try growing my own.

What I’m watching

I canceled Amazon Prime but still have access until mid-May, when it expires. That means I’m squeezing in Bosch Legacy. It’s good, but I’m pretty much done with that series. I’ve missed my shows on PBS Passport.

Dale doesn’t watch much TV, but we are both enjoying Matlock with Kathy Bates. I like her as an actor, and I also feel a personal connection. Like me, Kathy is BRCA-positive and has had both ovarian and breast cancer. There aren’t many of us walking around.

What I’m reading

I read Countdown City, the second book in the Last Policeman Trilogy by Ben Winters. An asteroid headed for Earth is expected to destroy the planet within months, and the story follows a young detective as everything around him devolves. One might think it would be depressing, considering our current situation, but I have not found that to be the case. It’s interesting to see how people cope, particularly how they cope with the unknown. There are lessons to be learned. I can’t wait to see how it ends.

Previously, I’ve mentioned Kills Well with Others by Deanna Raybourn, and it turns out she’s quite a prolific writer. I thoroughly enjoyed A Curious Beginning, the first in the Veronica Speedwell mysteries. The setting is Victorian England, and Veronica is by her own definition an “old maid.” However, she’s also a butterfly expert and world traveler with a mysterious past that begins to unravel. Yes, there’s murder. And perhaps a bit of romance?

I have three library books by my bedside, and the clock is ticking, so I need to get moving on them. Our library has done away with overdue fees, but for me, that pressure to get them back in time will never go away. I’ll report on those books in due time. Get it??? Due time?

Our first protest

Dale and I went to an April 5 Hands Off protest! Neither one of us had ever been to a protest before, although once back in the 80s, we joined a small group of women and drove our Fiat 124 Spider convertible through the streets of Chambersburg, Pa. shouting, “Hey, Hey, What Do You Say? Ratify the ERA!”

A lot of good that did.

I signed us up, but I didn’t really want to go. I was looking for an excuse to get out of it, but Dale persisted. He gets points for leading the way, but I clearly outperformed him on signage. We both feel like we could do better next time.

The signs were amazing, and some were downright hilarious. Much to my regret, I didn’t get any good pictures, but I think my favorite was a picture of Trump and the words, Does this ass make my sign look big?

There were two nearby events. One required going into downtown Sacramento. We are complete novices on the downtown area, so we went with the one in Roseville, another suburb. The protest was outside a big mall, so parking was a breeze. It’s about a 30-minute drive from our house.

Roseville is fairly conservative by California standards, but the streets were packed. My guess is several thousand were there. It was incredible. Lots and lots of people drove by waving, thumbs up and honking in support. A few flipped us off, but that’s OK. I’ve flipped off plenty of anti-abortion protesters in my day.

We stayed almost two hours. They warned us there would be no bathrooms other than in the mall, so without doing a full Cory Booker, we decided to leave when we had to pee.

Dale and I both had tears in our eyes much of the time. Just to know that so many of our neighbors understand the threats we face was so gratifying. There were also a lot of signs with variations on Hate Doesn’t Make America Great or Make America Nice Again.

After a hard day of protest, we came home and Dale grilled up some bison burgers, and we went to bed early.

We will do this as many times as we have to. If for some reason you can’t quite see yourself in the streets, depending on the location, you might be able to drive by the protest site and honk in support. Such a simple act, but we could feel the energy.

The people are rising!

Cats and cars

I was quickly scanning the news and saw something about cat tariffs. I’m like, come on, this is ridiculous! Enough is enough! Will they stop at nothing?

Then I looked again and saw it was car tariffs. Oh. So different, cats and cars. One is practically a necessity and the other is just transportation.

While I’m not up for political anger today, and believe me, I have plenty, I will share my Amazon boycott is going great. My original goal was to reduce my spending on Amazon by 50 percent, but I might go the distance. I have not purchased a single thing from Amazon this year!

My Prime expires in May, and I’m pretty sure I will cancel it. And Dale is canceling his Washington Post subscription. Not needing you, Jeff, you meddling prick oligarch.

What I’m eating

We had a couple of nice days, and Dale cut up a chicken and smoked it on the grill. It was just gorgeous – I call it mahogany chicken. The first night we had it with roasted potato salad made with fennel and a sour cream/mayonnaise mix. He had me at fennel. Yum.

Then we had the leftover chicken chopped up in a salad with spring greens, red onion, mandarin oranges, spiced walnuts, crumbled gorgonzola cheese and homemade raspberry vinaigrette.

We finished that bad boy up with chicken tacos. As is often the case, we had a lot of filling, so some of that got frozen to be used later in burritos and such.

Oh, and I made one of my faves … Instant Pot bison curry with spinach and coconut milk. I made homemade naan to go with. Two servings went into the freezer.

Actually, we’ve been going through the freezer, which is rewarding in its own way. And our freezer food is most excellent. We’re back to cold and rainy weather, so tonight is soup. We had two individual servings of soup, so Dale’s having the white bean and sausage, and I’m going for the turkey carcass soup I made after Thanksgiving.

I’m making cheddar and red pepper drop biscuits to go with. We like carbs in this house.

What I’m watching

I thought I would miss the shows on Amazon Prime, but I don’t, so I will not have a problem giving them up when my Prime expires. I also decided I watch very little Netflix, so that got axed as well. For subscriptions, I’m down to the Classic Sci Fi Movie Channel and PBS Passport.

What can I say? I love PBS Passport, and I spent some time loading up my list with great shows. I finished The Mountain Detective. Hopefully, new seasons are forthcoming. I think it was the last episode where they showed a view of Alex’s butt as he got in the shower, and if all else fails, that’s worth another look.

For some reason, I really like the French shows. The content is excellent, and the language is soothing. Now I’m watching The Paris Murders featuring Chloe, an “intuitive” profiler who helps solve cases in the Paris homicide division. I like it a lot, and there are bunches of seasons, so that’s good.

A few I added to my list include: Poldark, Howard’s End and Prime Suspect.

What I’m reading    

I finally got The Onyx Storm from the library, and I just couldn’t get into it. I read the first two in the series and enjoyed them very much, but I think they really are targeted to a younger audience. The sex scenes are sort of silly and adolescent, in my humble opinion. Maybe I need to read about old people getting it on.

Kills Well with Others by Deanna Raybourn was a fun read. This is the second in her series about four women who happen to be retired assassins, but alas, they are called back to active duty.

And I’m still on my Irish crime kick. Broken Harbor by Tana French is a crime novel but more psychological than most. It was twisted, I’ll say that.

Just today I finished The Killing of the Tinkers by Ken Bruen. This was the second in his Jack Taylor series. I love these books, but you have to like it dark. He’s an alcoholic ex-policeman who finds trouble and sometimes solves crimes. The author laces the drama with lots of literary and musical references.

Weekend at Bernie’s

I’ve spent a lot of time trying to sort out my thoughts on the current political drama, but I can’t quite get there. Nothing makes sense to me anymore. Every time I land on an idea or form an opinion about what is happening in America and what to do about it, doubt or misinformation creeps in, and there I am, stuck in Lodi again.

While I’m not afraid to criticize the government or those who fuck with it, I’ve thought about quitting or at least changing the subject because it’s too damned depressing. But if there was ever a time to speak up about injustice, this is it.

All that to say I gave AOC some money. Bernie’s next. With their “Fighting Oligarchy” tour, these two are showing great leadership in the face of billionaire bad guys running amok and threatening all aspects of American life. I used to think Bernie and AOC were too far left and ruined it for the rest of us well-meaning Democrats.

Now I see they have a point. After the current administration kicked in, I was fired up to save democracy and would have been happy to go back to the way it was. Status quo was fine with me. Sure, I knew our form of government was flawed, but I figured we could sort that out once we stopped the bleeding.

Bernie and AOC are opening my eyes to the reality that economic inequality is at the core of what’s wrong with our country. Until now, I mostly ignored it because even though I grew up in a low-income working class family, I was able to climb my way out. The system pretty much worked for me.

However, the system pretty much sucks for a lot of people. I was entrenched in this idea they probably made bad choices or didn’t have the will rise above it, but I now accept that what worked for many of us when we ventured out into the labor pool 50-something years ago isn’t the key to success today or tomorrow. Everything has changed.

There is a lot of bad stuff going down right now. It’s a lot to absorb, and any kind of discussion with friends and family usually ends in a food fight. Perhaps I’m naive, but what if we talked about how we can make our economy work for everyone? That conversation has the potential to expand across all parties and all ideologies. And that gives me a tiny glimmer of hope.

Ready? I’ll go first. How about everyone paying their fair share of taxes?