Category: Current Events

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.

Is that your outside voice?

Number 38

So, gosh, politics. I understand nothing. Not to go all MAGA on you, but in some ways, I’m glad I don’t even have to pretend I’m intelligent anymore. One of the many joys of retirement. You can be dumb or play dumb, and no one cares.

When I was working as a communications professional for a big corporation, we interacted with all kinds of people in and outside of the company, and no matter what, you had to say the right thing … informed but ambiguous, direct but nonconfrontational, sincere but aloof. Seriously, it’s an art form.

You also had to be careful with your colleagues, because you never knew who was in a position to offer an opinion about your future.

Oh, Beatrice. She’s certainly competent, but some are saying she lacks executive presence.

John’s a great guy, but he needs a few more years to sharpen his soft skills.

Which brings me to Bud Light. Sales are down because the company featured a transgender woman in an advertising campaign. An acquaintance asked me what I thought. You can see how my responses have evolved since I retired, and my inside voice morphed into my outside voice.  

Old

I respect the right to boycott as an expression of your personal beliefs, and at the same time, it’s my hope that people can come together and appreciate our differences.

New

It’s bullshit. Why do you care who’s transgender and who isn’t? Maybe they would like me instead? Gray, grumpy, opinionated, post-menopausal. #dreamgirls. And, oh, by the way, I’ll be drinking extra Bud Light just because I’m pissed off, and someone has to do it.

Here’s another example. I’m sort of looking for a new car. No rush, but it’s on the horizon. I’ve been thinking about an electric car and ruled out Tesla. A friend asked me why.

Old

I’m seeing a lot of innovation at Tesla, but I’m just a little concerned about quality as production ramps up.

New

Because I despise Elon Musk, and I’m not buying a fucking Tesla.

Or you can just keep your mouth shut. That works, too.

On the bright side, we got a new coffee maker. When the old one went on the fritz, I did my usual hunter-gatherer thing and read every single review of every single coffee pot made in this century. I’m attracted to bells and whistles … perhaps the BeanMaster 5000 … but came up empty-handed.

Dale, on the other hand, happened to be in Target and saw a coffee pot that looked almost exactly like the one we have.

And just like that, done. Why is everything so easy for him?

A change of pace

My bum wrists are acting up, so I’m taking a break from golf, even though golf has never been the culprit. Just experimenting a bit to see what makes them feel better. I have a doctor’s appointment in June, so the question is will I last that long without even hitting a few balls?

So far, reading a heavy book hurts more than golf. I’m switching to my Kindle until these wrists are under control.

On the bright side, not playing golf gives me so much time back. It’s like, where did all these hours come from? I’m somewhat a slave to routine, but I’m finding the change of pace is good for the soul. Doing different things makes me think about different things and helps me gain a little perspective in how I spend my precious retirement hours.

I’m walking a lot. This is another experiment to find the best balance of distance and frequency. So far, I think I’m better off keeping the distance to three or four miles but walking every day. I never have pain when I walk, but if I overdo it, the leg on my sciatica side hurts at night and messes with my sleep.

I can sort of see the beginning of the end of my dream to do a long-distance walk. I don’t think my body will hold up. But I can still do a lot, so I’m not complaining.

The NY Times recently featured a recipe for chocolate overnight oatmeal. I made it their way first and then tweaked it to my liking. The taste of chia seeds was fine, but I didn’t like the texture. Same for dates. I adore dates, but they were gummy in this oatmeal.

The chocolate is another variable. I used cocoa powder the first time, and it was delish, but then I saw a bag of cacao powder hanging around the pantry and decided to use that. They are equally yummy. I believe the only difference between the two is the degree of processing.

For one serving, here’s my modification:

In a mason jar, add ½ cup old-fashioned oats, ¾ cup milk, 1 tablespoon of cocoa or cacao powder, 2 tablespoons of maple syrup and ½ teaspoon of vanilla extract. Cover tightly, shake well and refrigerate overnight. I like to add 1 tablespoon of grated coconut.

I had low expectations, but I love this oatmeal.

Speaking of low expectations, I was pleased Trump was found liable in the E. Jean Carroll case. For some people, it was a long shot, but I’ll share a conversation I had after playing golf with my women’s league a few weeks ago.

Our group is a mix politically, as everything is, so we try to be careful about delicate conversations. I was talking with K. about how we wanted Trump held accountable when another woman sat down, overhearing the tail end of the discussion. She was incredulous. After all this time? How could this so-called victim remember anything? Come on!

K. was quiet and then looked up. She said, “I was sexually assaulted 30 years ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Well, there you go. Mouths open, mouths closed.

By the way, this is irrelevant and possibly offensive, but I liked E. Jean’s hair and the way she dressed. Although I am not nearly as chic, I had a similar style when I was working. Pleated skirts, tights. Heeled Mary Jane’s. Fitted jackets. She made me want to wear skirts again. And bangs! I don’t think I’ll go there, but they looked great on her.

A hint of spring is in the air

We went to Napa for a one-nighter, and it was lovely, but I don’t think we’ll do it that way again. We stayed in downtown Napa, which was not cheap. The restaurants didn’t excite us, so we ate overpriced burgers at the rooftop bar in our hotel.

One highlight was the Silver Oak winery, which is quite famous for their cabernet sauvignon. The whole experience was ridiculously expensive but thoroughly enjoyable. We now have a special bottle to go with next year’s Christmas roast beef.

The other highlight was the spice shop at Oxbow Market. I’ve been on the hunt for fennel pollen, and they had it. I wanted it specifically for this recipe. I hope you can get through the Washington Post firewall to access it. Or email me, and I’ll send you a PDF.

Anyway, this rigatoni dish with sausage and fennel caused quite the fuss when the Bidens both ordered it at a restaurant. Some people have a thing about not ordering the same food off the menu. Dale and I order whatever we want, and actually, we often order the same thing. I didn’t see what the big deal was.

But I made the dish, and it was exceptional. This was the first time I’ve used tomato passata – pureed strained tomatoes sold in a bottle. Also the first time for fennel pollen, but we love fennel, so I wasn’t scared. The clerk double-bagged it, and yet my purse smelled like fennel for days. It was fantastic.

I would buy fennel pollen air freshener.

As for other wine country trips, maybe I’d stay in Santa Rosa next time and do tastings in Sonoma. We still haven’t been to Paso Robles, so that’s on the docket. Of course, we live in great wine country, so there’s no shortage of options.

I’ve been trying to avoid politics, but sometimes it’s in me, and it got to come out. Please feel free to move along while I share a few of my left-coast perspectives.

Early yesterday I read about Disney snookering DeSantis and thought it couldn’t get any better than that.

While I do understand Disney is no saint, as I understand it, DeSantis wanted to punish them for supporting LGBTQ rights after he passed the “don’t say gay” law. The governor hand-picked a board of conservatives and fundamentalist Christians to control much of the Disney World footprint in Florida. But Disney quietly did things by the book with public meetings and notices, all toward essentially stripping the new board of its power.

DeSantis and his folks didn’t even see it coming. I’m sure some sort of battle will ensue. There’s probably no moral high ground. In the end, it seems most things boil down to profits. However … Disney spoke up in support of the LGBTQ community, so I’m calling it a win for progressive values. And a loss for DeSantis, who in many ways, is scarier than Trump.

Which brings me to my earlier question … can it get any better than this? Well, it could, but I’m delighted Trump has been indicted or as he wrote on his social media platform, INDICATED. In the grand scheme of things, do I think this is the worst of his bad deeds? No, but at least we now have some evidence no one is above the law. He may very well be found innocent, and that’s fine, but at least he’ll go to trial like everyone else accused of such crimes.

To say he has a get out of jail free card just because he was president is unAmerican. You want to be a patriot? I don’t know – maybe you could join the military or pay your taxes.

As for indications, I hope this is the first of many.

Then, on top of it all, the sun came out! We got a blockbuster year of rain and snow to put a dent in the drought, and now we’re headed for some lovely weather. To celebrate, I thought I’d buy a six-pack of Bud Light. You can have all the fancy wines in the world, but nothing says spring like Bud Light.  

In other words, if it’s Bud Light, you must indict.

Cry me an atmospheric river

Gosh, we’ve been hammered here in California by much-needed rain. I’m saying we didn’t need it all at once, but that’s me. Just a kid with a dream.

Dale and I have been hanging around the house, squandering time, because guess what? We’re retired, and there’s plenty more where that came from. Going on my sixth year, I continue to be amazed by how little it takes to fill a day.

The newspaper arrived rolled up in a plastic bag, but it was soaking wet nonetheless. Dale pulled the newspaper out of the bag and actually wrung it out over the sink. Then he put it in the oven, where it dried quickly, although I found it a big crisp.

“Convection roast,” he said.

Inspired by Janice at Retirementally Challenged, this is a gentle reminder that if you should find yourself in the same position, don’t be stupid. While that’s a great resolution overall, in this case, it specifically means DO NOT PUT THE NEWSPAPER IN THE MICROWAVE.

Last night was kind of scary. I mean, a whopper of a storm. Riley, our cat, was under the bed, which is where I would have been if I could fit. Wind scares me. By happenstance, I had been using an old pair of foam earplugs to block out Dale’s occasional snoring, and lately they haven’t been working to my satisfaction.

I was asking Dale about them, and he said you can’t use the same pair over and over. Well, I wish someone had told me that before I wasted quality sleep time. I opened a new pack in the middle of the night and they completely blocked out the sounds of the storm. However, I could still hear Dale snore, which means he’s louder than a Category 3 atmospheric river.

Whilst squandering precious retirement time, I finished watching the Louise Penny series, Three Pines. Those of you who have read the books aren’t too crazy about the show. Those of us who haven’t read them seemed to like the series just fine.

Sometimes a movie or TV show will inspire me to read a particular author. I like to read a series in order, so I figured I’d start with number one and get it from the library.

I love the library and have since I was a little kid. But as an adult, I typically do not expect them to have what I want when I walk in the door. But those old ones are often on the shelves. What works better is to read reviews, make a list and add them to your reserve list. However, this is a delicate art, because you don’t want them popping into your queue all at once.

All that said, I guess everyone is on the Louise Penny kick, because the books were all checked out. I suppose I’ll have to reserve it. Sometimes I’ll buy a new book, but I hate spending money on stuff that’s been out a long time.

I did purchase The Shadow Murders, the latest in the Department Q series by Jussi Adler-Olsen. I liked it a lot, but it’s a cliffhanger. That kind of annoys me, mostly because he doesn’t exactly pop these out on a expedited schedule.

Of course I have nothing to complain about compared to Dale, who slogged through all the Game of Thrones books, only to discover the author never wrote the last one.  

I’ve heard Sea of Tranquility by Emily St. John Mandel is excellent, so I’ve reserved that. The description hit all the right buttons for me: “A novel of art, time travel, love, and plague that takes the reader from Vancouver Island in 1912 to a dark colony on the moon five hundred years later, unfurling a story of humanity across centuries and space.”

Another book on my reserve list is A Dangerous Business by Jane Smiley. California gold rush, prostitutes. Right up my alley.

We also recorded a slew of Twilight Zone episodes, which have been fun to watch. Perhaps that will get me through the walloping winds of the atmospheric river, that for the record, is not quite as loud as Dale.

The side effects of aging

We’re supposed to get a big rain storm starting tonight, so I tried to squeeze in a round of golf today. I violated my first rule, which is never play on the day after Christmas. You know, boys and their toys, testing out the new gear Santa brought them. Fathers with sons home for the holidays.

A happy Hallmark scene best avoided, in my humble opinion. I prefer slow days during the week with crusty old retirees like me dragging their clubs in worn-out push carts.

You might laugh at my other rule if you live in a truly cold climate or have been battling the bomb cyclone. I apologize in advance. I know your weather has been devastating.

If it’s in the 50s here in northern California, I wear three layers on the top and one layer on the bottom. 40s? I add long johns under my pants. It was in the low 40s today, but I skipped the extra layer on the bottom. I forgot I can’t hang in the cold like I used to. But yes, I’m playing golf in the winter.

I don’t think one more layer would have helped much, but it would have been something. It was so cold. I was shivering and literally couldn’t function. I quit on the 6th hole and actually even ran a little bit to my car. I couldn’t wait to blast the heat. My old lady fingers tingled as they warmed up.

Poor me, home again, safe and warm, back in my jammies waiting for the rain to start. For dinner, we’re having sandwiches with leftover Christmas roast beef. Yum.

You may have noticed I comment on the political scene from time to time. I try not to overdo it. But as I think about life, aging and what it’s like to not work anymore, I tell myself it’s critical to stay engaged in important topics of the day. I mean, it would be easy for us to slip away quietly. I do think we become much less visible without a job, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have our say.

So, today’s political mini-rant is Governor Abbott of Texas sending busloads of immigrants to Washington D.C. I understand we need to reform our immigration policies, but these people are not props. They are human beings, and it’s immoral to shuffle them around like excess inventory at the Amazon warehouse.

We lived in Texas and have many fond memories, but that guy is messed up. I know, there ain’t no shortage of messed up people in powerful positions. I have never understood the vicious things people do to other people. Or to animals, for that matter.

I’ve been retired more than five years, and for the first time, I received a holiday e-card from my old office. I don’t know how I got back on the list, but I was pleased to be included. That said, it did stir up some sad memories of a horrible job I had there that changed the whole trajectory of my career.

In the end, I came out better than good, but the experience left some scars. I’ve worked on forgiveness, and I definitely purged a lot of anger, but I wonder how long it takes to truly get that business out of one’s system?

Or maybe you don’t.

It occurred to me, I could begin to frame this old work experience the same way I did after being diagnosed with cancer twice. It was no one’s fault. I was unlucky to get it, but I was very lucky to survive it. I still think about cancer and the way it has changed my life. Not why me, but wow, that was interesting.

Maybe the best approach for life’s bummer events is: Don’t judge the feelings, just acknowledge them, accept them as part of life. Be grateful for the good stuff. I’m sure you had this figured out, but I’m late to the party.

All that said, I’m grateful for the opportunity to age, but I’m not nuts about the side effects, physical and emotional. However, I saw a picture of Harrison Ford, who is 80, and it at least made me feel better about looking old. He looks good. Like really good. He just happens to be old.

That’s kind of what I’m going for.

Making peace personal

Number 34

The only prescription medication I take is 10mg of Lisinopril every day for high blood pressure. My doctor looks at me – lean, fit and healthy – and says it must be hereditary. Another reason the gene pool stops here.

I’m guessing my blood pressure has been elevated since, oh, I don’t know, November 2016? I haven’t been monitoring it at home because I had lymph nodes removed (both sides) during my mastectomy, and I’ve read frequent blood pressure measurements in the arm can increase the risk of lymphedema. However, my oncologist recently said it shouldn’t be a problem, so I’ve been taking my blood pressure at home and keeping a log.

The numbers have been great for months, but I noticed a spike, possibly around the mid-terms or shortly thereafter. You know. Trump 2024 – that sort of thing. Politics can fire me up, but I’m thinking, geez, I’m even doing yoga now. I guess no good deed goes unpunished.

As I thought this through, I realized I’ve internalized some of the collective anger that has spread like wildfire across the United States. While I have a good life and think, oh, I’m happy and chill, and it’s not like I’m storming the Capitol, when I get in the car and someone tailgates me, I spew a stream of venom that would make a Twitter troll blush.

I decided enough is enough. Do not allow the vitriol to sink in. Just don’t. I quit cursing at strangers from the privacy of my car, and guess what? My blood pressure is back to normal. Taking the meds, of course, but normal for me.

So, my latest piece of art. Number 34. Maybe it’s about making peace personal.

When duty calls

My laptop has been flashing the blue screen of death several times a day for a month or so, and I finally decided to get a new one. The minute I ordered it, my computer woke up and said, “Wait! I was only kidding!”

All of the sudden, my computer is performing just fine. Blue screen of death seems to be a thing of the past, but it’s too late, fucktard. You are history. I’m ready to move on.

I got a jury summons and had to report Tuesday. I didn’t want to go, but duty calls. We live in a suburban area on the edges of the county, but the courthouse is deeper into the rural red part of the region. Dale said try to look intelligent, and they won’t pick you.

Looking intelligent might be a bridge too far, but I did look smart. Slacks, t-shirt with a cotton bomber jacket and leather shoes … as opposed to sneakers. Let’s just say if there had been a prize for best dressed, I would have won it. The things people will wear to court.

The group was asked to wait outside until called. Shortly before our scheduled time, the bailiff came out and said the trial had been canceled. All we had to do was drop our summons in a box, and we would get full credit for having served. Yay!

I got home just in time to watch the Jan. 6 hearing featuring Cassidy Hutchinson. Wow. Duty called for her, too, and she stepped up.

Listening to her brought back painful memories. While my job was certainly not comparable to a White House role, I had a similar position as an aide to a high-level corporate executive. For a multitude of reasons, it was the most horrible job I’ve ever had, and I still have a little PTSD over it.  

Regardless of what they say on Fox news, these jobs are not about getting coffee for the boss, although I won’t say I didn’t serve a cup now and then. You are their handler. You coordinate with everyone to get things done, get them in the right place at the right time, prep them for engagements and tell them what bombs are about to be dropped. It’s high-level, high-stress, and I have no doubt she saw or heard everything she testified to.

And it had to be painful to speak up, because there is a cloak of silence when you are in one of those jobs. I witnessed some really bad personal behavior and never said a word, partly because everyone is vested in the boss, and you assume no one will believe you. Some underling no one cares about. Your career is disposable.

The issues were not ethical violations that affected the corporation, so I rode it out as long as I could and managed to talk my way out of the job after a year or so. I felt lucky to survive that experience. Seriously, that was the worst year of my life, and I’ve had cancer twice, so my hat’s off to Cassidy.

And I am once again reminded of how much I enjoy being retired! It does feel like the pandemic is waning somewhat, and I’m ever hopeful for some sort of return to normalcy. Dale and I are thinking about actually going in person to a theater to see a movie!

Although I want to see Downton Abbey, I could stream that at home and be OK. I’m thinking Top Gun would be great on the big screen.