Category: Current Events

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.

Congress or Guy Fieri?

Number 28

Dale and I debated whether we should watch the Jan. 6 hearings on TV. We agreed it was our civic duty, but we also agreed we’d switch back to the Food Network the minute one of us got disgusted. Not that we haven’t already overdosed on Guy Fieri, but he’s typically more palatable than Congress.

Winner, winner. Insurrection dinner.

Bottom line. We were riveted. My beer got warm, and that’s saying something. We rushed to assemble dinner during the 10-minute break. Dale was furiously chopping cilantro for the fresh Pico de Gallo that would accompany our carnitas tacos, and I thought, oh no, he’s going to cut himself.

“It’s back on! It’s back on!” I hollered to Dale, who stayed steady with the knife but was sweating like he was a finalist on Guy’s Grocery Games. I set up the TV trays, and we were back in our seats in time to watch the second hour. I did not leave my chair, not even to get another beer.  

Now I’m kind of wishing we could download the whole season and binge watch it this weekend.

Postscript: I failed to mention the footage was also heartbreaking, and we look forward to the day when the former guy is held accountable for his actions.

My annual physical was this week. We talked about Covid. I said we were recluses the first two years, but now we are venturing out. I’m assuming we will get it. I was thinking about Paxlovid, the antiviral pill and wondering if I would need it.

She didn’t think so. My immune system has mostly likely recovered from two bouts of cancer. I’m 66, and she said that’s still in the lower end of the age-related risk. I have high blood pressure, but that’s it. Still, because of my cancer history and the unknowns related to that, we agreed I would call for the pills if I should happen to test positive. She agreed with our plans to venture out and said we can’t live in a bubble forever.

I told the doctor I liked the neurosurgeon she referred me to for my back, even though I told him the only reason I kept the appointment was in case the shit hit the fan and I needed an existing patient relationship with a neurosurgeon. Not a good situation to be in, but I like to plan ahead.

He got my vibe, and we agreed surgery bad, exercise good. Keep doing what I’m doing.

My only beef was in the post-visit summary, there was a line about advising the patient to lose weight. At 5’7” and hovering just above 130 pounds, I figured it was a pre-populated form, and he didn’t bother to customize it. I was miffed.

She agreed and said normally the doctor double checks the form to ensure the parts that aren’t relevant are deleted. Then she told me a funny story.

One of her patients was having problems with his testicles. She examined him and found nothing unusual. Using her customary medical jargon, she wrote, “Testicles unremarkable.” But she didn’t delete it from the summary patients receive, and apparently, he was more than a bit upset to read that.

Anyway, so far, so good on the annual physical. For some reason, my cholesterol was the best it has been in years. I haven’t made any big dietary changes. The only thing I can think of is that I’ve been eating a lot of nuts. On the golf course, I snack on a mix of walnuts, almonds and dried cranberries.   

Speaking of golf and nuts, I played with a someone this week who might be certifiable. Some seriously crazy stuff coming out of her mouth. I decided to pretend she was my dear eccentric friend and that it was all very amusing. It was actually all very annoying, but my pretense worked! I did not get upset or blow my game, and I found myself warming up to her.

Could this be a new life strategy?

Cheerfulness breaking through

Number 26

I’m emerging from a self-imposed funk, and I started to write about all the racist, sexist bullshit things that are pissing me off right now, but once I go down that rabbit hole, it’s hard to climb back out. I’ll just say this. I don’t believe in conspiracy theories, but from what I’ve seen, we’d be better off if about half of the country is replaced. Bring it on.

Buffalo sent me over the edge, but I’m creeping back toward the middle now. Trying to focus on simple pleasures. Things I can control such as my body (but that’s only because I don’t have a uterus).

Oops, there I go again. Back to our regular programming.

As an avid golfer, I couldn’t wait to retire because I read somewhere you get better and better if you practice and play a lot. I’m a decent golfer, but after a few years of playing three times a week, I’m not much better than when I played twice a month. I must have missed the part that said, “Individual Results May Vary.”

This week I made the momentous decision to cut one day off my weekly golf schedule. And in the end, it really has nothing to do with how well I play. Golf is a time-sucker, and there’s too much competition on the hobby front – swimming, walking, cooking, reading, writing and making art. Oh, and I just signed up for the free version of Duolingo to learn Spanish.

The pool at the club where I swim laps is finally warm enough to swim without a thermal top. Without all that weighing me down, I felt like Flipper! I never could find a one-piece that fit, so I ended up buying these tops at Lululemon. They’re not swimsuits per se, but they work great for those of us who have had a mastectomy without reconstruction. I pair them with basic bottoms from Target.

Today is Dale’s birthday, so he’s making fajitas. I was willing to cook, but that’s what he wanted, and fajitas are his thing. I did make cheesecake! We both love it, but sometimes I think we just need a batch of graham cracker crust now and then. I’m thinking about waffles for tomorrow morning. I like this recipe from King Arthur. You can make the batter ahead and refrigerate it overnight.

I’ve been kind of burned out on streaming shows, although the new Bosch series is great. If you like seriously twisted crime fiction, I recommend The Turnout by Megan Abbott. It’s about a family of ballet dancers, and she does for ballet what she did for cheerleaders in Dare Me. It’s all sick and wrong, but that’s why you read Megan Abbott.

On a more pleasant note, I read the first two in a series of Victorian mysteries by Tasha Alexander featuring Lady Emily Ashton. They are a tad tame for me, but I liked them a lot and will probably read the rest. I’m not proud, but I have Tina Brown’s new book about the royals on reserve at the library. The Palace Papers – looks like she dishes on just about everyone, and for some reason, that appeals to me at this moment in time.  

I updated the gallery to include my last two pieces, Number 26 and Number 27. I couldn’t be happier to have discovered the joys of art later in life. With the time I’m getting back by skipping a day of golf, I think I’m going to visit Dick Blick and see what that’s all about. I’ve never been, although I do order from them online.

For many of us, it’s hard to stay positive, yet I somehow manage (for the most part). I’m reminded of the late musician Leonard Cohen, who said, “I’ve studied all the philosophies and all the theologies, but cheerfulness keeps breaking through!”

Undyed and loving it

Manchego and Chorizo Muffins

Whilst relaxing outside with a beer after a round of golf, one of the women noticed I got my hair cut. I took off my hat to show her the full effect, and she was surprised by all the gray. She liked it and said it was pretty, and then one of the perpetual blondes at the table said she wasn’t ready to go there yet.

Go where? To the land of the undyed, where we are forced to walk the Earth looking our age? I’ve heard others say they are too vain or they aren’t ready to give up. I’m plenty vain, but for me, it’s more about the complete package than simply the color of my hair.

I actually believe I look better than I ever have, and just so you know, my prefrontal cortex is kinda hot, too.

Putin on the blitz

Not to take anything away from the Ukrainians, but I’m having a hard time with Russia. Not the people, of course, but I am so angry with Putin. Our planet is dying, the world has suffered through a pandemic – more than 5 million people dead – and just as it looks like we might be getting a break – all he can do is think about killing some more? For a land grab?

I know the whole thing is more complicated than that, and Dale, an amateur military historian, would be more than happy to explain it to me in excruciating detail. However, one more Hitler documentary, and this marriage is over!

Oh, and let’s not forget about all the fucktards who have cozied up to this sociopath over the past years and still have trouble saying anything bad about him. And it’s not just Trump, either. If I’ve learned anything over the past two years, it’s that I know nothing, but I’m thinking the lovefest with Putin has got to be about money. When all else fails, follow the money.

While I’m not a religious person, I join those of you in praying for peace and hoping there’s a way out of this mess.

Savory Baking

I absolutely positively did not need another cookbook, but I’m weak that way. I purchased The Savory Baker by the folks at America’s Test Kitchen.  I was still debating what to try first, when Dale flipped through it and said he was smitten with the idea of Manchego and Chorizo Muffins. It’s actually the first recipe in the book, so I’m guessing he didn’t flip too far. Still, hat’s off to Dale keeping it simple.

The muffins include a variety of flavor bombs, including Manchego cheese, Spanish chorizo, fresh parsley, jarred red peppers and sour cream. I made them yesterday, and we reheated them for breakfast this morning. All I can say is yum.

Next will be Jalapeño Cheddar Scones. But then we would eat jalapeño cheddar dragon poop.

Adventures of a gentlewoman cannabis farmer

I took a break from growing cannabis, because it seemed like we had plenty, but it’s kind of like wine in a box – it goes fast. I started an indoor plant from seed this week, and it will soon be time to buy a clone in an attempt to successfully grow a plant outdoors. Last year’s clone didn’t make it – not enough sun in the flower bed – so this time I’m growing it in a pot in the middle of the yard. That should maximize sunnage.

Although I do imbibe, my favorite use for cannabis is for balm, which is featured on my downloads page. It’s a little miracle cream for all parts achy. You can buy the commercial product where it’s legal, but it is more expensive than making it yourself. I am not a fan of CBD-only products. If they work for you, or that’s all you can get, who cares? But I have found products made with the whole plant to be more effective.

I attended a cannabis education program when I first retired, and I see the same folks are offering an online course to earn a budtender certificate. OK, so I don’t want to be a budtender, because that looks too much like work, but maybe I’d like to know what they know? Let’s just say I have a learning orientation.

The self-paced course might keep me from ruminating on all the gloom and doom. I mean, I know that’s what Jalapeño Cheddar Scones are for, but every little bit helps.

Trying not to worry

Riley

It feels like everything is going to shit, that maybe this is the beginning of the end, but I keep telling myself not to worry about things I can’t control. And I am reminded of a scene from Lord of the Rings:

“I wish it need not have happened in my time,” said Frodo.

“So do I,” said Gandalf, “and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

As I’ve muddled my way through retirement, I’ve pretty much let go of the idea that I need to accomplish anything. Just hanging out, enjoying simple pleasures. Trying not to worry but worrying anyway about Riley, our cat, and why he likes Dale better. It can’t just be about the food.

However, sometimes I get this idea – I can’t quite reach it – but it feels like something might be pulling me in a new direction. As per usual, I have few clues as to what that might be.

My prediction is that I’ll discover something special to write about, I’ll do some sort of long-distance walk or I’ll find a new focus for my cooking obsession. As I reflect on these speculations, it occurs to me all are a search for a singular passion, which I don’t appear to have. Always the dabbler, we’ll just have to wait and see what comes of my magical thinking.

I’m trying not to stress out about anything. Maybe retirement doesn’t need to be orchestrated. Just live it and do your best to stay healthy and happy. Or maybe it’s a cycle, and you just have to ride out each phase until the next one appears. I don’t know, but I’m open to endless possibilities.

I do these deep breathing exercises in bed before I even get up. It’s almost a form of meditation, and I think that’s when all will be revealed. Until then, I continue to putz around, taking care of things that perhaps don’t matter in the big picture but seem to provide a sense of steady comfort.  

Whatever happens, my hair will look good. When I got my hair lopped off in early December, the stylist said I would need regular trimmings about every six weeks. I eagerly signed up, even though I’ve previously been resistant to the whole salon regime. They say never surrender, unless you’re 66 and your hair looks like crap.

I canceled my first trim due to Omicron. My hair still looked better than it ever did, but I absolutely loved the shorter bob. The rescheduled appointment was this week! Our Covid numbers are way down, but at this point, I didn’t care if Godzilla breezed into town, I was getting a haircut. I’m delighted with the results. And yes, I wore a mask.

This might be the vaccine microchip talking, but I’ve actually had an urge to go shopping. Like not online and for real. It’s hard to imagine I could need anything beyond what’s delivered to my doorstep, but going to the mall seems like such a quaint thing to do.

Although we didn’t have much money, my mother loved clothes and was always good for a trip to The Broadway. It’s gone now. I vividly remember waiting outside with great anticipation for the doors to open before a big sale and was always enthralled with the lingerie section upstairs, where there was a big glass case of fancy peignoir sets. Oh my!

The peignoirs were gone, too, by the time I got old enough to wear them. I do like fancy undies and may splurge if I should make it to said mall. Although I remember the owner of a lingerie store telling me, “If you wait until you can afford it, you’ll look like hell in it.”

I’m well into the second half of that sentence, but I also need swimwear, which is difficult to order over the internet and particularly difficult for me since I chose to go flat after my mastectomy. It will take an N95 and perhaps medication to get me through swimsuit shopping.

I’ve gone back and forth on the whole streaming music thing, and I have no qualm with anyone’s decision one way or the other. There are no saints in this story. However, I’ve decided to give Spotify the big FU for supporting Joe Rogan and switch to Amazon Music Prime.

While I don’t think my decision puts a dent in the universe and in no way settles the myriad issues over music streaming in general, I’ve read Amazon pays artists slightly more. But that might be smoke and mirrors. At the end of the day, go with your gut and try not to worry.