Category: Learning

The HOA ate my newspaper

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dancing with bad knees

I forgot to mention I had a birthday. I’m 69 now. And damn glad to see it. Aging happily is the gift of having cancer in your 40s. Everything after that is gravy.

As I once wrote, “Sometimes I imagine that I carry around cancer in my pocket like an emergency dollar bill. And sometimes I just have to reach in my pocket and fish it out to remind me that every minute of every day is a gift.”

Even if you haven’t had cancer, you’ve most likely lived through adversity, and it’s my contention we can reframe our sad experiences to remind us of our strength and resilience. Adversity is in our pocket, too.

While it was not exactly pocket-worthy, I did have to pump myself up a bit after I fumbled in the final round of our golf tournament. I still came in second … or as they say in the pageants, runner-up! No tiara for me, but I was hoping I’d play a little better in the final stretch.

So, whew, I’m glad that’s over. In this final stretch of life, I find that competition is overrated. Now is the time on Sprockets when we dance!

Of course, I mean that figuratively, because you know, pain and inflammation and all that. But here we are. Still at it. Finding joy no matter what. Dancing with bad knees.

The aging body is wont to crap out, but I have vowed I will not be part of the club that recites their ailments like baseball stats. Bone-on-bone … that’s my personal favorite. It’s actually a drinking game for old people. Every time someone says bone-on-bone, you take a shot of your protein shake.

I’m sticking with my physical therapy and will save my whining for a professional.

We went to Walgreens to get the new Covid vaccine, and for the first time, we had to check-in using our phones to scan a QR code. We don’t know nothin’ about QR codes. Dale can barely use his phone to text hi, and I say that as his loving partner of 45 years.

It was an unpleasant experience at best. Low-grade profanity was involved, but we finally got it done, and I had to apologize to the pharmacy assistant for my rant about serving old people with technology designed by and for young people. Oh, sorry about you wanting to stay alive, but we’ve got this little test for you first.

I do think she was a little rough on the arm. Note to self: Be nice to the people who poke you.

A good number of you have expressed an interest in volunteering – learning more about my personal journey toward deciding what to do – and reaping the rewards of any pearls of wisdom I may uncover during this quest. Did I mention this time of life is also filled with disappointment? As in you will be disappointed I have nothing new to share.

Well, that’s not completely true. I seem to be very good at talking myself out of potential opportunities. Children scare me, animals are unpredictable, I don’t want to go into anyone’s home, I don’t want to actually talk to anyone, no closed up spaces where I’ll catch any virus that’s going around, I can’t sit all day, I can’t stand all day. I’m sure you understand.

I thought it would be good to ask people I know if they volunteer … how they got into it, etc. But I’m probably not wording it right. They seem a wee bit defensive, mostly because nobody I’ve asked so far said yes.

Anyway, my current strategy is to keep browsing through charity websites, volunteer message boards and the like to see if anything sounds doable. I’m hoping I just haven’t seen the right thing yet. My calling is yet to be revealed! In the meantime, I increased my monthly contribution to the food bank to atone for my lackluster performance.

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.

Offline and loving it?

Some of you may have noticed my blog was offline for several days. I was experiencing technical difficulties, and while the site was down, I decided to go with it. Just cut the cord and move on.

With my new-found freedom, I made an effort to be more sociable. Livin’ in the real world! I stayed after golf to chat with the other women and made noticeable progress in the category of interpersonal communication. Yeah, that was me, talking it up with the ladies.

For example, one woman was raving about a taco place, and I did not mention that I had just read a county health report on the restaurant, a report that included dead rats, insects and creature poop. No one needs taco trauma.

Another woman said she loved breakfast cereal and often ate it for dinner. Did I alert her to acrylamides or ultraprocessed foods or the fact that I haven’t eaten breakfast cereal in something like 15 years? Oh, no, I did not. Let’s talk breakfast cereal! It’s grrrrrrreat!

Then I tried to talk with my husband about volunteering and the things that are holding me back. You know, the stuff we talk about here.

I said office work might be too confining, but outdoor opportunities might be too much. I recalled my efforts to pick up litter in the neighborhood, and squeezing the trash picker upper messed up my wrists.

He said, oh, yes, I remember that, another one of your fads. That was what we call unwelcome feedback.

Dale’s fine, thanks for asking. It was probably the pizza coming out of the oven that saved him. Time stops for pizza, so he got a pass on that one. I did manage to say that at least I try things. He agreed to call them experiments in the future.

So much for real life. Let’s get back to experiments. That’s what this blog is. An experiment with writing, sharing stories. Experiencing retirement. Connecting with an online community.

Thank you for being part of the journey. As I putzed around while the site was down, I realized this community is small but mighty. We’re not changing the world, but what we do here means something. And it means I didn’t exit the way I had hoped.

While I have boatloads of faults, one of my positive characteristics as a human is that I always try to do the right thing. Leaving everyone hanging did not feel right. After much deliberation and a small fee I chalked up to a relatively inexpensive life lesson, I was able to get the site restored.

Now that it’s up and running, I’ve sort of talked myself into continuing (I never said I was normal). The only downside is self-doubt. The effort to overcome self-doubt is probably worth the price of admission.

My account expires in November, so I’ve got until then to get my shit together. If I decide to quit, I promise to let you know in advance. None of this sneaky snake stuff.

In the meantime, I urge you to subscribe to BoomSpeak, a great online journal where aging writers (including me) share their thoughts and stories. With any luck, that’s where I’ll be if you can’t find me here.

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.

Nothing a little therapy wouldn’t help

In the category of strange but true, I won a golf tournament! Previously, I’ve placed in my flight and stuff like that, but this is the first time I’ve finished first overall. The prize was $40 and bragging rights.

Regular blog readers will know competition is my nemesis. I usually have this sense of being judged and struggle with confidence, especially after a poor shot. It’s like, oh, yeah, I knew it all along. You suck. At everything. You’re not worthy.

Nothing a little therapy wouldn’t help, but I believe retirement has helped me overcome my fears. With no job status to bolster my self-esteem, I’m learning that being a decent human being and living a good life is plenty. I’m more comfortable with myself and with the ups and downs of the game. I even said to Dale the night before the final round, you know, I’m not scared. I’m just going to play the best I can and enjoy the challenge of trying to make that ball do what I want.

For me, that’s progress.

I’ve always said my brain is the weakest part of my game, so I definitely think the change in mindset helped me play better. I’m also giving credit to the physical therapy regime aimed at strengthening my core. I’m guessing you are all sick of hearing about that, but seriously, this is a big deal for us aging Boomers.

Although I’ve exercised regularly for many years, I never paid attention to the core. Cancer and two major abdominal surgeries didn’t help. But I’m 10 weeks into working with a PT, who gave me a series of exercises to do at home, and it’s life-changing.

Not only is my lower back and knee pain pretty much gone, but I feel more stable even when I just move around the house. I’m definitely stronger in the water when I swim, and now I’m seeing results on the golf course. I’m not sure how it all works, but I guess a stronger core increases stability, and that translates to more power in the swing.  

I get it – not everyone is a golfer, but I’m starting to believe a stronger core is the secret to any kind of an active life as we age. The exercises are tough but worth it. I’m 68 and think of this work as an investment for my 70s and 80s.

All this learning did not prepare me for the photo opp. Granted, this was after 18 holes of golf, but a blow dry in the morning with a little product would have fixed that frizzy hair. It seems I will have to make more of an effort in the future.

You never know when you’ll win something.

Something lost, something gained

I dreamed last night Tiger Woods was at a big event planning to introduce me as his new girlfriend. I was wearing a skimpy gold workout outfit, and I looked hot. Except I was still old, and people were kind of noticing that, wondering about Tiger’s choice. He was about to explain when I woke up.

That was probably for the best. Some things you just don’t need to know.

Although I didn’t watch the Grammys, I’ve watched replay after replay of 80-year-old Joni Mitchell singing Both Sides Now and a graying Tracy Chapman performing Fast Car with Luke Combs. Kind of noticing they are getting older, and in a good way.

Both Sides Now speaks to me about youthful optimism, wisdom and regret. What a song, and she was so young when she wrote it. How did she know? I think my favorite line is, “Well, something’s lost, but something’s gained in living every day.”

Aging has it challenges, but you know, it’s not all bad. As for me, I’ve lost a lot of my fearlessness, but I honestly don’t want it back. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with myself. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gained a (mostly) quieter mind and am happy with less.

Joni and Tracy inspired me to charge up my ear buds and listen to music when I walked today. Lately, I haven’t bothered, but then I think about stuff the whole time, and no good can come of that. But today I came home singing along to Papa was a Rolling Stone, and that’s better than coming home pissed off about one thing or another. So many things to choose from.

Rain is good, I get that, but it gets old. I’ve gotten to where I don’t mind walking in light rain, but golf is a different story. It sucks to get all your gear wet, and the course is a muddy mess right now. Not much golf going on, except in my dreams.

Math is not my strong suit, so I’ve always avoided Sudoku, but atmospheric rivers will make you do crazy things. And, actually, Sudoku isn’t based on any learned math as far as I can tell, even though numbers are involved. For me, it’s more about patterns and logic.

Anyway, I’m actually quite pleased with my progress and can now do a medium difficulty puzzle in 30-45 minutes. A hard one takes me an hour, and I usually have to guess at least once. My goal is no guesses. I’ve learned some solving techniques including the tricksy hidden pairs and hidden triples, but try as I might, there other strategies I don’t yet understand.

I’ve been looking at books on Amazon, but I can see where that might be a slippery slope. I guess I want one book to rule them all, and I’m not sure which one to get. Any recommendations?

Oops

Never trust a writer. I thought long and hard about whether to quit blogging, and I finally decided to move on. Although I absolutely love retirement, my life is not particularly exciting. I figured everyone was bored.

I wrote the farewell post and pushed the button that said I’m outtie.

Your kind and generous feedback made me realize I don’t have to be anything other than what I am. I live how I live, and I write what I write. Thank you for helping me understand there’s a great group of people out there who appreciate my humble efforts. It’s not like I have to trek around the world backward and blindfolded to keep you interested. Sometimes you comment, sometimes you don’t, and that’s just fine.

It took less than 24 hours for me to realize I can’t not write, so I may as well do it among friends!

I’m not quitting. I’m sorry for the drama. I hope you’ll stick around as we return to our regular programming.

Retirement phases

I’ve heard it said retirement comes in phases. One would assume it’s different for everyone. I only know when I retired, I couldn’t quite let go of the need to feel successful. That first phase was frustrating, because I was no longer particularly successful at anything.

My plan was to keep dabbling, see what interested me, what stuck. After five years of enjoying simple pleasures and indulging in creative pursuits, that burning desire to achieve something beyond daily existence started to subside.

The turning point was lunch with my childhood friend, who shocked me by the details she remembered from my troubled youth. Her insights were enlightening, and I came to realize my life turned out way better than anyone could have expected. And whatever success I had in my career was plenty.

In this new retirement phase, I feel different. Like I’m just part of the ecosystem, at peace with the rest of the flora and fauna that share this space, with no need to measure up or justify my existence. It feels great, although accepting that I’m enough has changed my motivation for writing.

For me, writing was often about trying to feel validated. But it seems I don’t need that validation anymore, so I’m in search of the sweet spot that’s more about creative expression and personal connections. I’m not sure how this new focus will reveal itself, but I’m thankful you read my stuff and hope you’ll go along for the ride.

Which brings us to a topic foremost on my mind these days, and that would be Ultra-Processed Foods (UPFs). They are getting a lot of buzz lately, so I read the new book, Ultra-Processed People: The Science Behind the Food That Isn’t Food by Chris van Tulleken.

The book is heavy on science, hence the name, and it tells a compelling story about the food industry … how and why it delivers tasty addictive foods that make us fat and unhealthy. Most of us realize by now that sodas, flavored yogurt, snack bars, frozen meals and the like are on the naughty list.

We don’t eat that stuff at our house. But I was surprised to learn some foods we eat frequently are UPF. Most commercial breads. English muffins! Some peanut butter. Flour tortillas. Some fruit juices. You have to look at the ingredients, and if it’s a long list of unpronounceables, you’re looking at UPF.

Are you concerned about UPFs? Do you have a strategy?

As for us, Dale and I agreed we’ll still eat some of the bad stuff occasionally, but we’ll make simple changes where we can. I bought some natural peanut butter, and I actually like it, although I miss the mouth-feel you get from the hydrogenated oils they add to the highly processed kind. We bake a lot of bread, so we can get around that one with a little planning.

The biggest challenge would be flour tortillas. They are a pain in the ass to make, but I see that day coming. Another option would be to check out the local mercados.  I would assume if they’re making flour tortillas from scratch at the facility, they don’t have all the extra junk added. I could freeze them.

Make new friends but keep the old

I mentioned a little while ago my 50th high school reunion committee found me, and I’ve been connecting with a handful of those I used to hang out with. It’s part of a larger conspiracy to get me to actually attend the reunion, which is in September, but the upside is I’ve had some great conversations with people I haven’t heard from in many, many years.  

Last week I had lunch with one of my old friends who lives not all that far away. We met in the middle – about an hour’s drive for each of us – and it was so much fun I’ve actually been considering the reunion.

We think we met in the 8th grade. And then went to the same high school. We mostly had the same circle of friends throughout high school, although she was under the mistaken impression I was included because I was one of the smart ones. There must have been another reason, although I was pretty good at English.

In fact, she couldn’t wait to tell me her favorite memory. She was good at math but struggled with English. She said I taught her how to write a five-paragraph essay and even drew a diagram, and it stuck with her through high school and college.

I vaguely remember having a little formula for writing essays, and once she prompted me, I could sort of recall the details. I know I did write a few essays in exchange for cash, but I forgot to ask her if I charged her! She was so pleased to hear I capitalized on my strengths and fashioned a great career in corporate communications.

As for high school, my downfall was geometry and then biology, because I wouldn’t dissect a frog. She said she didn’t either. I got bumped from the college prep program partly because of that, but also because I did so poorly on the SATs.

She made the cut in spite of the frog situation and went on to college after high school graduation like all my other friends. But she said she got married while in college and started having babies, so it took her a little longer than some. I joined the Army and went to college later on the G.I. Bill.

We went to school with a bunch of rich kids. My friend’s parents were educated but of modest means, I think, and she remembered my family life was messed up, and we didn’t have much money. Both of us were kind of shocked we turned out pretty great all things considered.

I’m still socially awkward and am reluctant to attend the reunion, but I was surprised how special it was to spend an afternoon with someone who knew me before I was fully formed. And that all this time has passed, yet I found myself liking her more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time.

Seriously, she was so kind and charming and interesting, and I was beating myself up for losing touch in the first place.

I remember a little poem or maybe it was a song I learned as a child.

Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver

The other is gold