Category: Current Events

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!

Pizza therapy

We had company for 10 days, and our guest just left this morning. It was a great visit, but it is weird sharing your space with someone different. Dale and I have lived together more than 46 years, so we have this rhythm that probably seems dysfunctional to everyone else. It’s like osmosis gone bad.

My sister-in-law, our guest, is kind of a picky eater. My sister is as well. That can be challenging for foodies. As a couple, our superpower is that we like virtually anything edible and pretty much eat on the same schedule. That’s good.

Friends used to call us the camels, because we can go all day without consuming much of anything and then make up for it later. That’s bad, because it’s probably not healthy and most people don’t live like that. We forget other people have to eat. Still, we managed and nobody starved.

The solution, like so many solutions, involved pizza – twice – and then separate pies to accommodate topping preferences. I’m not sure pizza as therapy is sustainable, but it works in the short-term.

The weather is betweenish. Cool some days and then back to heat. I’m ready for fall food, but it doesn’t seem quite right. I like it chilly before I start in on the soups and stews. But it’s good golf weather, and in the end, it’s all about golf. We’re currently playing best two out of three rounds for the women’s club championship, and after two rounds, I have a three-stroke lead.

I don’t know how that happened! I’m usually so terrible at competition, but I have worked on my mental game, which must be the key. I believe learning to lose has helped me enjoy the occasional win. That, and physical therapy, which has strengthened my core.

Anyway, the person in second place is a much better golfer, but she hasn’t played as well as she normally does. She will most likely blow me out of the water in the final round. And I’m surprised to find myself looking forward to seeing how I fare, warts and all. I think this is called evolving.

A brief political update:

As regular readers will know, I am a U.S. Army veteran, and my husband is a retired Army major. I was trained as a military journalist at the Defense Information School (DINFOS), which is the same place JD Vance went, except I turned out OK.

For years, I have followed Trump’s disrespect for the military and have been surprised people don’t know the extent of his disdain or do and would vote for him anyway. I thought maybe a little summary would help a few undecideds.

Although I didn’t write it from scratch, I went through all the news accounts, reorganized the information, changed the wording a bit and pieced together a one-pager you may share. Or you can use it as talking points for your political discussions with friends.

“A Shameful Pattern of Disrespect” is here on my downloads page.

On making a small difference

Now that I’ve had a little time to decompress after serving on jury duty for a month, I’ve decided that if called, I would do it again. While I did not find the experience particularly enjoyable, I believe answering the call if you are able is an important civic responsibility.

I was inspired by the book On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century by Timothy Snyder. He warned we should defend institutions such as courts and laws because when they fall, autocrats rise.

The book is a quick read, but it’s not light. So, yes, heavy stuff, but we now live in a country where some people – with the blessings of the candidate himself – will not say whether they’ll accept the outcome of a free and fair election. Think of this book as a manual for resisting modern-day authoritarianism.

The author encourages all of us to become active in organizations, political or not, that support a civil society and help others to do good. While I donate money to various causes, I’ve mostly been all about enjoying the simple pleasures of retirement. The book made me realize it may also be time to step up and participate in something that matters.

I haven’t decided on what participation looks like for me, but I am definitely in the seeking mode. That would be as opposed to the slouching mode, which is where I’ve pretty much been for the past umpty ump years. I keep thinking – even though I enjoy my life, it could be I haven’t yet discovered why I’m even on this dang planet.

Have you wondered if there’s something new and meaningful out there for you? Something that hasn’t even occurred to you yet?

I’ve certainly wondered before, you know, am I using my time wisely? Am I being selfish? Indulgent? But I mostly turn off the volume and go back to my happy place.

This time I feel different. Ready. Like maybe I can still enjoy the chill retirement life I’ve cultivated and also use what’s left of my skills and talents to make a small difference.

I’m guessing some of you might be pondering the same issues. I’d love to hear your thoughts. And of course, as your official retirement confidant, I’ll be sure to report back on my journey … the continuing saga we call life after work.

Just another childless cat lady

It has been a few weeks since I’ve written, and I don’t have any excuses. You know, just another childless cat lady, making poor choices, doing what we do.

In spite of my shortcomings as a fertility goddess, things are remarkably good. Although I think Joe Biden is an excellent president, I believe he did the right thing by dropping out of the race. For the first time in months, I’m optimistic.

Is anyone else feeling it?

Kamala is bringing new energy to the election, and she  has my full support, even if it turns out she likes dogs better.

I had my annual oncology appointment, and while I’m not afraid like I used to be, it always feels great to walk out of there with a clean bill of health. It has been 25 years since my first cancer (ovarian) and nine years since the second (breast).

This time they asked me to see the nurse practitioner instead of the doctor, and although it felt like getting demoted, I understand the doctor has to prioritize. I don’t have active cancer, and I’m sure she’s got a boatload of people who do. I asked the nurse practitioner if I even need come anymore, and she said yes, mostly because I’m BRCA-positive. Lots can go wrong on the genetic front.  

Sadly, I am due for a colonoscopy, but my primary care physician will make that referral when I see her for my annual physical in August.  I’ve heard there are some new and better ways to do the prep, but I don’t believe any of that applies to me, since I am at higher risk.

I have been out and about more than usual for reasons I’ll go into later. And much to my surprise, wearing something besides golf or workout clothes has been rather enjoyable. I haven’t cared about fashion in years, but I’ve made an effort to look put together, and it makes me feel a little more with it, if you know what I mean. I still don’t want a job, but I’ve been thinking about other activities that might give me a sense of purpose.

The shoes I wore to work have all been purged. I still have some boots left, but everything else is Hoka or Birkenstock, so I’ve been wearing my “dress Hokas.” They look nice with my favorite pants, a tee and a denim jacket. I’m calling it retirement chic. It’s still hot outside, but I need the jacket for air conditioning, which always freezes me out.

I’ve even been blow drying my hair (since it’s not stuffed under a golf hat) and have had a lot of compliments on the cut and color – my natural silver. I’m so glad I gave up the dye.

So, I sort of like having somewhere to go besides the golf course, but I assume that could get old fast. But we shall see. In the meantime, I need to go brush the cat.

Happy 4th of July

Well, July came screaming in like a mofo. The election, the Supremes, extreme heat, power outages and Bones reruns no longer on Freevee. Even the episodes I’ve already watched. Gone as of July 1 unless you pay. I’m starting to believe in conspiracy theories.

When the going gets tough, it’s time to finally buy a Vitamix and hunker down with smoothies. Mine arrives today. Just in time to save me from myself.

Dale, who is also in a funk, is thinking about an immersion circulator – sous vide. He hates the stress of getting a steak exactly the way we like it on the grill, and this method takes a lot of the guesswork out.  

Such bougie little solutions to world-class problems, but there you have it. To quote the Pet Shop Boys, happiness is an option. I can honestly say I stayed happy throughout my cancer treatment 25 years ago. I chose to be happy then, and I choose to be happy now.

Maybe it’s the heat, but I had a craving for watermelon. I’m usually disappointed in melons, so I rarely buy them. And then they’re so big. But Safeway had a smaller chunk of one cut and wrapped, and it looked really ripe. That was my breakfast this morning, and it was delicious.  

Dale is a recovered fireworks junkie. He loves all things that go boom. His dream is to be adopted by that family that implodes buildings. But he backed away after we got cats, and fireworks freaked them out. Fireworks are illegal in our county, but that never stopped him in the past. The stories I could tell. But I won’t. Not sure about the statute of limitations.

OK, sure, since you asked nicely. This one shouldn’t get him in trouble. We were living in Alabama, Huntsville to be exact, and he had a stockpile of the biggest baddest fireworks available on the open market. Maybe the black market, too. I’m still not sure.

It wasn’t even dark when he started firing off pyrotechnics in the front yard, and that escalated as the evening wore on when he and two brothers down the street we called The Darryls started trying to outdo each other. Beer was involved. The street looked like a war zone.

The police came, and as I recall, Dale stuffed wads of fireworks down his pants and politely told the cops he didn’t have any. Just enjoying the holiday with his family. In the front yard with piles of smoky debris and empty beer cans.

I think the policeman said something like, sure, buddy, but it’s over now, got it? And Dale said something he apparently rehearsed many times over, “Yes, officer.”

I’m not sure what happened to The Darryls, they’re probably still in jail, but the festivities came to a screeching halt. It wasn’t the first time we had to clean up the street in the morning, but it was the last.

We have no special celebration plans, but we will eat well and won’t be blowing things up.

For dinner, Dale is grilling what we call Hunk-O-Lamb. I’m making tabbouleh, which is a bulgar wheat salad mixed with spring onion, tomatoes, mint and parsley and then tossed with an olive oil and lemon juice vinegarette seasoned with some dried herbs. Oh, and fresh corn on the cob. Perhaps a Zinfandel.

It will be hot, but we still might eat outside. Once you get all that food in you and your body is heated up, it’s nice to cool off in the pool before bed. It’s all part of the live well no matter what strategy.

Happy 4th of July. Or happy Thursday if you’re not from these parts.

The sound of silence

Although I did not watch the debate, I read about it this morning. Trump’s lies and Biden’s lackluster performance did not make me regret my decision. It doesn’t look good for Biden, but I’m still hopeful the American people will not see fit to put a monster like Trump back in office.

I know some very kind and intelligent people who are Trump supporters. Once we learned where everyone stands, we quit talking about it to preserve the peace. At first blush, silence sounds like a poor solution, but you know, it’s not all bad.

When we were younger and actually had friends, we seldom discussed politics. We were more into partying back then, and most get-togethers focused on food, drink, music, travel and sports. I can’t remember even thinking about how someone might have voted. Seems kind of quaint now.

That’s the brighter side of being a party animal. Now we’re crusty old homebodies with deep dark thoughts about the future of democracy. Not sure that’s an improvement, but it’s easier on the liver.

Anyway, life is good beyond worrying about things I can’t control. My exercises have gotten quite robust, and I’ve split them up so on any given day I’m only doing half of them. Most body parts are cooperating with the new regime, but my left knee is part of the resistance. Some of my newer exercises strengthen the quadricep, and that will theoretically help the knee.

Because the knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone …

All of it has improved my golf game, and it has been fun to play well. Our four-woman team kicked butt in the Hawaiian-themed event. It was almost surreal. We all showed up in our matching outfits but forgot to take a picture! I said, well, it’s hard to be good and cute. One of the women, a younger golfer who has a great game and a bit of swagger said, actually, it’s not.

Loved that! If I ever had swagger, I think I lost it sometime in the 90s.

July is looking to be a hot one .. a good time to tune out political rants, savor the sound of silence and hunker down with a good book. I loved Clete, the new James Lee Burke novel featuring Dave Robicheaux, although this one is told through the voice of his sidekick, Clete. Hence the name. I’ve read all the books in the series, and this is one of my favorites.

I’m currently reading A Walk in the Park: The True Story of a Spectacular Misadventure in the Grand Canyon by Kevin Fedarko. It’s a grand adventure story, hilarious and chock-full of interesting information about the Grand Canyon. The author also wrote The Emerald Mile, which is thoroughly entertaining account of a speed run down the Colorado River in a dory boat. That book also has a great historical perspective.

Next up is Randy Wayne White’s One Deadly Eye featuring marine biologist and ex-NSA agent Doc Ford of Sanibel Island. I’ve read all in the series, and they are always a treat.  

Happy reading!

The heat is on

We’re finally at the point where everyone starts complaining about the heat. That means the weather is just how I like it.

I’ve lived in famous hot spots, including Southern California, Texas, Alabama, South Carolina and Egypt. The Sacramento area can get pretty toasty, but comparatively, it’s minor league.

However, this is the point where I must modify some of my golf protocols. I experienced heat exhaustion once playing golf in Texas. Heat exhaustion is no joke, so this is my official warning to be smart about hot weather.

My number one tip is when it really gets beastly, do everything in the morning. I hate getting up early these days, but sometimes you’ve got to do it. The good news is you get done early and have time for a nap!

It’s not that bad yet. First thing is to dig the windshield sun shade out of the rubble in the garage and put it in the car. I forgot last Friday, the first real hot day, and wowser, that steering wheel was hot when I finished my round. Also, crack open the windows a tiny bit for air flow.

Cell phones are another issue. I don’t take mine with me when I play because I find phones very annoying on the golf course, but I need to turn it off if I leave it in the car. My phone started to overheat on Friday and went into that mode where it starts shutting down apps.

And then there’s my rig. I have a nice pushcart with a solar umbrella and a cup holder for a big bottle of water. I put a couple more bottles of water in a cooler that straps on. Included in this luxury set-up is a “cool towel” and a battery-operated fan. Oh, and a spray bottle with water. Spray some water on your face and stand in front of the fan — it’s like outdoor air conditioning.

Finally, I need to make sure I actually drink all the water and supplement it with an electrolyte drink. If I’m a little dehydrated, I can get leg cramps at night. A fellow golfer taught me a trick that is quite odd but very effective! Eat a spoonful of yellow mustard. It’s like a miracle.

Speaking of miracles, physical therapy is going exceptionally well. I’m there for my back, which is feeling great, but I have lots of creaky body parts. We’ve discussed my wrists, which I broke in 2010. Two visits to the hand doctor, and he says there’s nothing wrong with them, although I do have thumb arthritis.

Last week, the PT asked if anyone had ever done – something – and now I can’t remember what. But it involves manipulation, so I said no, no one has touched them. He said areas with past injuries can “lock up.” He did kind of a painful massage and then wrapped it in a thing that looked like a rubber Ace bandage. I flexed my wrist back and forth with that on, and then he took it off and said I was good to go.

I asked if I would need ice, because, dag, that little routine hurt. He said maybe but probably not. Anyway, it’s incredible how much better it is. Seriously unbelievable. I’m expecting him to do it again this week, and then I will have to learn about the long-term plan. I don’t suppose he can move in with us, so we’ll need to entertain some options.

Although I resisted physical therapy for a long time, and even after starting it, I thought about quitting, now I’m glad I stayed the course. Sometimes you need a little help.

While I do comment on politics from time to time, I try not to get crazy with it. There’s plenty of that to go around. But I hope you will allow one old lady retiree to say something about the latest NY Times report that Trump may owe the IRS $100 million in taxes.

First, I hate tax cheats. All of them. Because they steal from us. All of us. Dale and I dutifully pay our share without regret. It’s how our society functions.

We currently live on Dale’s military retirement and both our Social Security checks. We have not yet dipped into our investment accounts, which did very well under this so-called miserable economy. We had to pay the feds an extra $9,000.

Which we did without bitching about it, because those are the rules. Remember? Society functioning? It’s not just about you.

While I’m at it, there’s the issue with the Social Security trust fund running out of money in 2033. Congress is talking about future options, but I have not seen a discussion about raising or eliminating the cap.

You aren’t required to pay Social Security tax beyond the wage base limit, which is currently $168,600. That means all these people making the big bucks don’t pay anything after that. This whole problem could be solved by raising or eliminating that cap. Why isn’t anyone talking about this option??????

Full disclosure: I was one of those people who benefited from the cap, and it wouldn’t have killed me to pay a little more.

On the food front, I finished my last piece of birthday cake frozen from September! I needed to get that off the radar and make room for Dale’s birthday cake.

He turns 75 next week. I haven’t made cake for him in a few years, but the one he likes is called Chocolate Creole Cake, a recipe I received from my friend Beverly in Pennysvania. The recipe is in her handwriting, and it makes me nostalgic. Does that happen to anyone else?

Anyway, it’s a dense chocolate cake. Between the two layers is a filling of walnuts, pecans, raisins and dates made into a thick spread with sugar and evaporated milk. Then whipped cream goes on top of that. Add the other layer of cake and frost it with a spread made from melted semi-sweet chocolate and sour cream.

I love desserts, although I’m careful not to overdue it. However, I will say this. All the people who say, oh, it’s too sweet. Crazy talk! Savory food is different, but if it’s meant to be sweet, in my book there’s no such thing as too sweet. Nothing is too sweet for me. Nothing.

Less food, longer life?

Yesterday’s New York Times featured an article about calorie restriction and intermittent fasting – and whether they increase longevity in humans. It seems to work in animals, but they’re not so sure about people.

Part of the problem is cutting calories by 25 percent or more is difficult for mere mortals. Animals in cages don’t have a choice. Plus, there’s not enough information out there to confirm whether these tactics will help you live longer.

While I want a long and healthy life, I want to enjoy it with delicious food and can’t see going through all that deprivation just to sneak in a few more years. I always love the comments section, and readers did not disappoint. Here are some of my favorites:

  • For years I’ve eaten one vegetarian meal a day at lunchtime with a small snack in the evening. Now I’m almost ninety in excellent health. What has it gotten me? The chance to meet the coming Apocalypse.
  • I have restricted my caloric intake by 10% (but cutting added sugars), and practice intermittent fasting (16hrs;8hrs) 100% of the time. My triglycerides went down by 50%, and I reduced what little bit of joy remains in my life by nearly 90%.
  • If a person reduces her caloric intake, will she live longer or will it just seem longer?
  • The bottom line: Who knows? My 95-year-old mother has been overweight all her life, is still mentally sharp, lives independently, and looks about 80. Her skinny mother died at 63. I’m just hoping these things don’t skip a generation.

I said I wasn’t going to dwell on my back problems, because I know, it’s like, take a number, pal. But I’m hoping readers will appreciate progress reports on my treatment in case you are in the same boat. I’ve done a lot of work on the mind-body connection and how emotions impact our perceptions of pain, and I do believe that helped, but it’s not enough. Surgery and prescription drugs are options I’m hoping to avoid, so my current program is physical therapy.

The MRI of my back looks like a high school science project. I’m still not convinced they know what causes the pain, but so far the medical professionals have zoomed in on severe spinal stenosis at L4-L5. Most of my pain is not in the back, but in the left buttocks and down through my left leg.

It has been six weeks, and the first five were grueling. As I’ve previously reported, the exercises are designed to strengthen my core and presumably take pressure off the back. A month in, and I saw no noticeable improvement. I only hung in there because my massage therapist said I seemed more flexible.

At the start of week six, I suddenly noticed my butt didn’t hurt. Everything else is feeling pretty good, too. It’s quite possible I have stomach muscles. I feel more solid, if that makes any sense.

No Tylenol, no Advil. I complained to the PT that some of the exercises make my troublesome knee worse, and he threw in a couple more exercises he said would help both my knees and my back. One of them is lunges, which I thought would make the knee worse, but to my surprise, I’ve seen a remarkable improvement.

My plan is to keep going. I figure this is my big chance to do whatever I can to mitigate my symptoms long-term, and I don’t want to squander it. The PT said he would add some weights in at the appropriate time, and I’m excited about that. Not really excited, I guess, but I like the idea of increasing muscle as I age.

These exercises take about an hour a day, so I’ve just come to accept it’s one of the mandatory tasks associated with my new job – which is taking care of myself in retirement.

In irrelevant but possibly interesting entertainment news, I discovered a moral dilemma as I was watching TV. Warning – spoiler alert.

I subscribe to PBS Masterpiece and decided to try watching The Royal Flying Doctor Service. A woman doctor recovering from a messy breakup moves to Australia to work with the team that provides people in the remote Outback with medical care.

First day on the job – unknown, unproven, etc. and she beds one of the guys on the team. I’m anything but a puritan, but I was deeply disappointed and haven’t watched any more of it. I mean, that’s just bad form.

However, I also started watching Bones from the beginning. She’s a genius forensic anthropologist working with Booth, a hunky FBI agent, to solve mysteries of human remains. You can see where the relationship is going, so I cheated and went to the episode guide, only to discover it all happens in Season 6.

I’m at the beginning of Season 2, and now it’s like I’m on a mission to catch them in the act. I don’t know why I was so judgmental about the flying doctor but can’t wait for Bones and Booth to get this done already.

Such is entertainment, which beats politics hands-down. However, you know me, I can’t resist a political jab. If the Supremes say  the president has unlimited immunity, we are all in trouble, and it won’t matter who is or isn’t having sex on TV.

In closing, I offer up the following AI video for your viewing pleasure.

Beds don’t make themselves

For a retiree with nothing to do, I’ve been busy. I passed on golf so I could get cracking on the Christmas cookies we send to Dale’s sisters in Maine. It’s quite the process making the dough, rolling it out, cutting the shapes, baking the cookies, making the royal icing, decorating the cookies and then letting the icing dry for a day or two.

I finished them yesterday. The cookies are drying on racks, so that monkey is off my back. Tomorrow, I’ll put them in tins, and Dale will add a few things to the box and get the packages shipped. That’s on him.

Years ago, my sister and I happily agreed to no gifts, and I’d like to spread that around.

This week starts with golf on Monday, golf on Tuesday and golf league party on Wednesday. I haven’t been to the party in a couple of years … well, since Covid. But I thought I’d put my life on the line and hope for the best.

One of the women in my group once said I dressed for golf like I was going on a hike. Not an insult, per se, but my goal is to show up at the party looking like something other than a hiker.

I donated to Joe Biden’s campaign. I hate all the begging that comes after, but I didn’t want to face myself if Trump wins, and I did nothing to help stop it. I do believe our democracy is at stake, so if there’s ever a time to step up, this is it. If I can find some sort of volunteer job with the Democrats that doesn’t involve getting shot at by Republicans, I’ll probably sign up for that, too.  

Last week’s household drama was about making the bed. I like a tight bed with hospital corners. I want to slip into bed like a perfectly folded letter slides into a crisp envelope. I sleep with two pillows and sometimes put a quilt over my side of the comforter for extra warmth.

Dale doesn’t believe beds should be made. Why bother?

I believe our differences are rooted in our military experiences. Dale and I met in the Army. He was an officer, and I was enlisted. His training included a place called summer camp, if you can believe that. How lovely for them. Enlisted people go to basic training, which sounds more like it, no?

He may have mastered strategic warfare or whatever, but this much I know. Only one of us learned to make a proper bed.

You, of course, know it’s important to redistribute the bedding. Sometimes, during the night, one person will steer the bedding to his or her side, a practice we call Grand Theft Covies. Another issue is fluffing the comforter so the filling goes back up to the top, where it keeps you warmer.

When making the bed, all that has to be fixed. It doesn’t take long, but you’ve got to commit.

I was kind of cold one night and realized the comforter filling was all down at the bottom. Dale was the last one who made the bed, so I asked him in the morning.

Did you fluff the comforter?

What?

I explained the finer points of comforter fluffing, but even as the words left my lips, I was thinking it was probably a case of too much information. However, he surprised me. Later that afternoon, I heard the delicious plop, plop of the comforter being fluffed! Oh, clever me.

Over dinner that evening, Dale said there was something he needed to say. As the proprietor of D&D Lodging, he regretted to let me know he was charging $1 for comforter fluffing, and an additional dollar because he had to remove the quilt prior to fluffing. So much work. Then he said, “And as you know, I have long waived the fee for the extra pillow.”

So, after all that, we had a great laugh. Of course, there are no fees, but just the same, he planted a seed. Like somehow this is going to cost me. Now when it comes to making the bed, I’ve been racing to get there first.

Maybe he is smarter than me after all.

Election anxiety

As I said in my last post, I’m struggling with election anxiety and am preparing myself for the worst so I don’t go into shock. I’ve rehearsed in my head how I will stay calm if it all goes to hell. Then I woke up to the news Sunday morning.

The New York Times reported on a poll showing Biden trailing Trump in five critical swing states. I can’t imagine how that’s possible, and it is simply overwhelming. I was in a funk before I even got out of bed, and that was when I realized I have to get serious about detaching.

The U.S. presidential election is a year away, polls are notoriously unreliable and I refuse to be miserable for the duration. I do love The New York Times and will continue to enjoy my subscription, but I don’t need the headlines delivered to my inbox.

My bad. I signed up for all these newsletters – one in the morning, one at night … plus a few others that seemed intriguing at the time. I went into my account and canceled about six newsletter feeds, and it was like doing quick release on the Instant Pot … a big burst of steam exiting my body.

I don’t miss any of them. The news is still there if I want it. Sometimes I just bypass the headlines and go straight to games. There’s a new one called Connections. I think you have to be a subscriber to play. The game shows a grid of 16 words. You get four tries to put the words into four groups that share a common thread. Here’s the official description:

The game is fun, but it’s tricksy. There might be five words that would seem to share a thread, and you have to figure out which one doesn’t belong. Makes you think in different ways … which is usually a good thing.

It has been a bit chilly playing golf early, and my winter wardrobe sucks. I remember being cold a lot last year, so I headed over to REI and threw some money at it. I bought some good thermal underwear (as opposed to the cheap stuff I bought last year), wool socks and a fleece neck gaiter.

We started the round yesterday with the temperature in the high 40s. And I was super toasty! I had multiple layers, so it was easy to peel them off as it warmed up. I was surprised by what a difference the socks made. If you spend a lot of time outside, I believe good quality layers are key.

I watched Nyad on Netflix with Annette Benning playing the long-distance swimmer Diana Nyad and Jodie Foster playing her friend and trainer Bonnie Stoll … both actors are in their 60s. As a recreational swimmer, I was naturally interested in the movie, but I was surprised by how good it was. I especially loved how the movie depicted older women.

As for reading, I splurged and bought the new Lincoln Lawyer book. Resurrection Walk by Michael Connelly. It’s all ready to go on my Kindle, but I haven’t started it yet. I’m excited. Oh, and I think Harry Bosch is in the book!

Dale did roast chicken last night, so today I’m making mini-pot pies for the freezer. I used to love the Marie Callender pies from the supermarket, but these homemade pies are so much better. There’s still some chicken left, so Dale is making quesadillas tonight. Yum.

So, tips for election anxiety. Less news. More food. More games. More books. More movies. More walks. More of anything that makes you happy.