Category: Rambling Thursday

In search of pleasantly predictable

Exercise is a big part of my retired life, and right now it’s in a state of flux. My lower back issues are under control, and just when I thought everything was pleasantly predictable, the universe is making me adapt to change.

I hate it when that happens.

Let’s start with swimming. One good thing about the pandemic was the introduction of lane reservations at the club where I swim. I guess they decided the pandemic is over, and now it’s every man for himself. No reservations. Shared lanes. Complete mayhem.

I have some serious thinking to do. I really don’t get my money’s worth out of the membership anyway, but it’s a great pool, I love to swim and believe it’s good for my body, so I accept the price. Now I’m not sure it’s a reasonable trade-off. I could take my chances with getting a lane, but I’ve encountered some pushy people out there, and I’m not at all confident in how lane etiquette will play out.

Very stressful.

While I could continue my deep water running in our backyard pool, that window closes by the end of September. Ah, I have another idea. I could check out another part of the club pool and see if my deep water running rig works there, and that pool is heated year-round. And I would only take up a tiny corner of this much-coveted space. But I’m still not sure it’s worth the money.

I’m annoyed. It’s always something. The club also offers gentle yoga and mat Pilates. I’m interested in both, but I’m worried about introducing another variable to my back. Like maybe leave well enough alone?

Then there’s golf. We had our women’s club championship. I’ve struggled with performance anxiety for years, but I keep trying to work through it and have improved considerably. Still, in the final round, I choked on the front nine and shot a 48.

It was looking as though I wouldn’t even break 90, which for me, is not a good score. I willed myself to relax and just try to enjoy the rest of the round. I tried really hard not to be grumpy and chit-chatted more than usual just to keep it light.

I rarely shoot a low score on the back nine, but I have done it, so I know it’s possible. I figured a 41 would give me an 89, and somehow, the possibility made me feel better. I had a string of pars toward the end and finished with a 39 for a total of 87! Still not my best round ever, but I felt like it was a huge victory for my mental game.

The mental game is my weakness, so after that experience, I thought, let’s build on that success. I bought yet another book on, oh, let’s call it the mental game. I tried some of the mind-over-matter strategies on the driving range with spectacular success. I was on fire! I couldn’t wait to get back out there and put it into action.

Once again, it’s all about expectations. On Monday, I could barely hit the ball. I just cannot understand the gap between the driving range and real golf. It is so frustrating. You’d think with enough practice, I could improve to my satisfaction, but that is not the case.

Anyway, I’m back to just relaxing about golf. I don’t know what else to do. I’m feeling a little worn out anyway, so I may also take a week off. We are experiencing some pretty intense heat, and it wouldn’t hurt me to sit this one out. I’ve never been particularly good about listening to my body, but I did say this was about adapting to change. I said that, right?

Other than my sports drama, all is well. I visited the dermatologist because I didn’t like the looks of a little spot on my face. That spot turned out to be normal age-related nonsense, but there was another spot I didn’t give a hoot about, and that one was pre-cancerous, so she froze it off. Just another reminder that for all intents and purposes, we know nothing! Get checked out.

My sister turned me onto this show I mistakenly believed was free on Amazon Prime. It turns out the first episode was free, but then you have to subscribe to one of the lesser-known streaming services. The show is The Discovery of Witches. I loved it but didn’t want to mess around with Sundance or Shudder.

Instead, I went to the library and checked out the first book in the trilogy … The Discovery of Witches. It’s a great read! I’m almost finished and ready to go for the second book. However, it has just scratched the itch, and now I want to see the TV version. I could skip the subscription thing and buy the first season for about $20, but that seems wasteful to me.

I love all the entertainment content that’s available now, but anti-trust be damned, I wish there was one giant streaming service in the sky. I think Sundance is only $6.99 a month, but it’s just one more thing.

Did I mention I’m grateful these are my biggest issues of the day? The scrubbed Artemis launch brought back a lot of memories from my years in the space business, and while reading about it made me proud to have been involved, the work was intense, and honestly, at this stage of my life, I’d rather be worried about who’s going to fuck up my swim.

So, pleasantly predictable. Perhaps it’s an aspirational thing.

Catching up to technology

I’ve surrendered to the privacy pirates and am enthralled with my new technology toys for music. I signed up for Spotify, paying for premium at $9.99 a month. The choice of music is amazing, and it’s fun to find old tunes you know and love as well as new stuff you’d like to explore but don’t want to buy.

Amazon is another excellent choice, but I tried Spotify first and decided to stick with it.

Next were wireless earbuds. I went with Carole’s recommendation of Samsung Galaxy Buds Live, and they’re great. I accidentally ordered the version bundled with a wireless charger pad. Although I planned to return the wireless charger, I’m sold! I just put the buds in their case and set that on the pad, and the fiesta begins. I can also use the pad to charge my cell phone.

All in all, it would seem I’ve at least partially caught up to this era. My tights from Athleta arrived, and they fit well and are quite stylish. Newly outfitted, I do feel more with it and am even more inspired to walk.

More on the Mind-body connection

My sciatica has improved, although it’s definitely not gone. Even after all the discussion we had here about some of the reservations we share regarding the mind-body connection, I still think it’s worth digging into my emotions to see if any negativity is contributing my physical problems. While I know this doesn’t apply to everyone, I have a history of stress-related illness.

As I said earlier, I’ve dealt with all my family drama, but this week I realized I still have some baggage from work.

Although I had a fine run, I was treated rather badly the last couple of years on the job. It’s a long story, but to extend my career with the company, I was pretty much forced to take a job working for a high-level bully and screamer. Everyone knew, but he delivered results, so they looked the other way.  

There’s more to the story than just him, and it would take another 10 pages to explain how it all went down. I try to think, oh, it was OK, but really, it wasn’t. I was well-compensated, and in the end, I came out way better off financially. The money definitely made retirement possible, but the whole thing still makes me angry.

I took to my journal and wrote all about it. I won’t frighten you with the inner workings of my mind, but putting my deepest feelings on paper helped me understand the role these emotions have on my every day life.

One thing I decided was to reframe how I experience golf. It might not seem like golf could be connected to work. I suspect some of you may be struggling with the same issue. We were so accustomed to performing for the king, that we feel we have to prove ourselves in some other way after we retire.  Whatever it is that drives us, we’d better be good at it.

For me, that was golf. I’ve been playing poorly, but I decided it didn’t matter. I am going to just focus on enjoying the challenges and pleasures of the game. I signed up for this week’s league play with the women.

It was chilly when we started about 9 a.m. but warmed up quickly and was turning into a beautiful day. I was playing OK. Not as well as I normally play, but I was fine and actually enjoying myself. As we walked off the 9th hole, our new leader was standing by with her timer and said we were 10 minutes behind schedule. I kind of wondered if it would come to this, as she sent sort of a snarky note in advance warning us about pace of play.

Much to my surprise, I said in a very calm and kind voice, “I’m done.” Then I explained that I really like her, she is one of my favorite people in the club and I don’t hold this against her in any way, but I have decided that golf under those conditions does not work for me personally. We’re supposed to be having fun out here, and we weren’t slowing anyone down. I added that I play all the time out there with men, and no one ever fucks with them about pace of play.

And then I walked away.

Later, I sent a note to one of my playing partners apologizing for the abrupt departure. She understood, and said they had to wait on the group in front of them on number 10. They took a picture of themselves waiting and texted it to the leader with a note, “So much for 10 minutes.”

Ha! I liked their style and felt a little bad I didn’t hang in there. On the other hand, I believe I did what I needed to do. If you’ve been reading this blog for a bit, you may recall this is not the first time I’ve addressed this achievement fixation and how it impacts life. Not to mention golf! It’s a tricky balance, but I think I’m getting closer to the sweet spot.

Leftover chicken

And that leaves me to chicken. We love roasted chicken and always freeze the carcass to make stock. Dale pulled off all the meat yesterday, so I made a list of food we make with leftovers:

  • Chicken enchiladas
  • Chicken tacos
  • Chicken Divan
  • Chicken Tortilla Soup
  • Chicken in Phyllo with Hazelnuts and Feta
  • Chicken Tetrazzini
  • Chicken Curry with Coconut Milk and Spinach
  • Mini Chicken Pot Pies
  • Chicken Quesadillas

Dale got to vote, and the winner is Mini Chicken Pot Pies. I make three. We split one and freeze the other two. For some bizarre reason, we like chicken pies with French fries. And a salad. We don’t always eat like 10-year-old boys.

I’d better get going. I like to make everything ahead of time and refrigerate until it’s time to cook.

Wishful thinking

Full Retirement Age

My birthday is this month, and I will be 66. My full retirement age for Social Security is 66 and two months. I had been planning to start receiving my monthly payments as soon as I reached full retirement age and was excited about the prospect of a paycheck, but now I’m having second thoughts.

Some financial experts suggest it’s smarter to start withdrawing from your IRA and hold off on Social Security until you reach age 70. According to this NY Times article, living on retirement savings in the early years and holding off on collecting benefits is likely to increase monthly income over a lifetime.

There’s also a discussion about marginal tax rates and provisional income if math is your jam, but I’m a journalism major. No can do.

If I wait until I’m 70, my monthly checks would go up by about $800. It sounds nice, but I’m not sure it’s worth waiting for. With my husband’s military pension and our savings, we are not dependent on Social Security, so I’m inclined to skip all the analysis and just go with what feels right.

I suppose I’ll chat with our financial planner before making my final decision. What variables have you considered as you make this choice?

Sugarfest 2021

In other news, I’ve decided to bake my own birthday cake. I’m going to make the three-layer coconut cake from Sally’s Baking Addiction. Everything about it is totally decadent. Even the buttercream roses on the top are insanely me. The more frosting the better.

However, I watched the video for how to make the roses, and I don’t think I can pull it off. I have some Russian piping tips my sister gave me, and those look easier. I will be watching lots of YouTube videos to build my confidence. Here’s a sample.

While we’re on the subject of baking, I spent a lot of time indoors last week due to the air quality, so I decided to make cookies decorated with royal icing. I have quite the collection of cookie cutters and other paraphernalia.

I haven’t made them in a couple of years, mostly because my wrists were sore the last time I made them, and I wondered if I would even try again. However, my wrists have improved, so I went for it. My lack of practice shows. The icing on the chili pepper is too thick and lumped up in places, and the icing was a little sloppy at the bottom of the ladybug.

Imperfect but cute and delicious. Not a bad thing to be. By the way, I made chocolate dough and added a teaspoon of espresso powder. Next time I’d use a little more. You can’t taste the coffee, but somehow it makes the chocolate taste better. We keep them in the freezer, which helps with portion control!

Golf Giveth and Golf Taketh Away

Yesterday I played golf in what is called an alternate shot tournament. I had a partner, and we took turns teeing off. One of us on odd-numbered holes, and the other on even-numbered holes. Then we took alternate shots until the ball was holed.

On number six, my partner teed off. The shot was plenty long enough but in the left rough. We were still 140 yards out, and it was my turn.

I hit a 7-wood, and we watched it fly toward the green. She thought it got stuck in some thick grass in front of the green, and I thought it hit the green and rolled past the hole. When we got up there, she went one way, and I went the other, and we didn’t see it. I jokingly said, maybe it’s in the hole.

And it was!! So, we had an eagle 2 on a par 4. We would go on to completely fall apart on the back nine, but I will remember that shot for a long time.

Wishful Thinking

I’m feeling hopeful that maybe we are turning the corner on COVID. I mean, not everywhere, but maybe some places? I read today 80 percent of eligible Californians are at least partially vaccinated. In my zip code, about 80 percent are fully vaccinated and another 10 percent have one shot.

That said, our numbers are still terrible. Cases per 10,000 people approaching 40 percent in our county. Yet, there are some case rates in the hundreds, so I guess it’s all comparative. I am shocked by how many people go out and about as though the virus doesn’t exist.

I do wonder if the virus will run out of people to infect. Or maybe Delta will run its course and the virus will subside, transitioning to something more like the seasonal flu. I have no basis for these comments. Perhaps nothing more than wishful thinking.

But you know what? There’s something to be said for wishful thinking. I have been on both sides of the attitude spectrum, and nothing good ever happened when I thought the glass was half-empty.

Lest we get too judgy

Number 21 — my latest creation of wood-burned art embellished with color.

Repurposing career clothes

Although I did experiment here and here with repurposing some of my career wardrobe, I quickly lost interest. I don’t dress that way anymore, basically living out of one laundry basket full of casual and athletic wear.

And yet … I’ve decided to keep what’s left – a jacket, a suit, a few skirts and a pair of slacks. At least for a little while longer. Reasons, in no particular order:

  1. I’ve pared it down to just a few pieces anyway, so it’s no big deal to keep them hanging in the closet.
  2. The pandemic has probably changed career fashion forever. I don’t think my style will be popular with anyone but me.
  3. All the charities I checked want larger sizes, and I don’t want to bother with consignment.
  4. They fit well and look good on me. Sometimes lacking other options, you have to wear your confidence.
  5. It’s more fun to dress up when it’s not 100 degrees. Fall is just around the corner.
  6. These are not normal times, and you never know what will happen. Post-pandemic renaissance? Apocalypse? I might need nice clothes.

The joy of movement

I visited the physical therapist, and all in all, it went well. I have some nits to pick about the process, but I heard what I wanted to hear. Basically, she said I have good mobility and should continue to do everything I want to do in terms of golf, swimming, stretching, walking and weights. With regard to osteoporosis, she said to avoid jumping and jarring movements but otherwise keep moving. Her team can help me with strength and balance.

They stretched out my problematic left buttocks area and decorated it with Kinesio tape, which presumably helps with muscle pain and inflammation. I must say it seems to be working! They put the tape on while I’m face down in the “child’s pose.” Of course, I can’t put the tape on myself, so I had Dale take a picture of me in case we need to replicate. He took the picture, but I’m not sure he’s on board with taping me. It’s not like I’m asking him to shoot an apple off my head.

I played golf twice, and I could definitely feel the burn, but I think it was just the normal aches and pains of returning to exercise after a 10-day rest. I tried to take it easy, forget about the score and feel the joy of movement. I will try swimming today.

Note to fellow retirees – be gentle but move as much as you can as often as you can. Mobility goes away quickly and is difficult to recover.

The limitations of movement

Movement is one of the reasons I don’t outsource housework. I do most of it, but Dale does make significant contributions to our efforts. The balance inside the home isn’t really an issue, but I did talk with him about adding some additional chores to his list. He’s always cooperative, but it annoys me that I have to spell it out for him.

Yardwork is a different story. This is where the limitations of movement are hitting home. I tend to be a workhorse, and as I always joke, Dale likes to put on a clean shirt and go bye-bye in the car. For the record, he does laugh when I say that!

Our neighborhood association maintains the front yard. We don’t have a huge backyard, and the pool takes up most of it. Dale has always said it wasn’t worth the money to hire someone to mow and blow such a small area. Especially since I ended up doing it most of the time. But there’s also pruning – and in previous years, that also fell to me.

Newly armed with spunk and MRI results, I said that time is gone. Beyond mow and blow, count me out. Shortly after my proclamation, he actually mowed and edged. I didn’t even know he knew how to use the edger. In the spirit of cooperation, I got out the blower and cleaned up. See how nice it is when we work together?

Message received. It went in one ear, stayed there and didn’t go out the other.

That means I’m shopping for some sort of landscape service. Although it’s not a big financial commitment, my first thought was I’ll start collecting Social Security later this year, and I could just pay for it from that account.

But my second thought was no way – why is it my responsibility? I know he truly doesn’t care who pays for it, he’s like yeah, whatever you want, but I remember all those bags of yard waste from last year, and my less kind self wants to see him cough up some cash. Reparations, if you will.

Oh, shit, this is bad

Lest we get too judgy in our aging years, Dale announced this morning he couldn’t find his keys, which include both house, car and mailbox. We looked everywhere, including the neighborhood mailbox, because he has left them there before.

Alas, no keys.

My smug self was thinking I would keep the mailbox key separate so as to avoid such a situation. But that’s me. Then I went down the path of we’re getting older, him especially, and this is likely to happen more often. Lost things. Kitchen fires. Who knows? From there, I plummeted to, “He’s got dementia. Oh, shit, this is bad.”

We went to a few doors asking if anyone picked up keys from the mailbox. Nothing. One neighbor was like, oh, shit, this is bad, and I said, indeed, I’m trying not to be judgmental. Another neighbor said to check with the Homeowner’s Association – people sometimes turn in lost items. Dale tried calling, and a recording said they were closed. I said, “Well, let’s just drive over there and see. I’ve got my keys.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out my keys. Except they were not my keys.

Wait! These look like your keys!

They are my keys!

We both burst out laughing. Apparently, he’d left them on the counter downstairs after picking up the mail, and when I was scooping stuff up after I came home from golf, clearly exhausted from exemplary play, I thought they were mine and dropped them into my purse.

One would assume he’s now thinking, looks like Donna has dementia. Oh, shit, this is bad.

The unexpected pleasure of dryer lint

One of three shop vacs full of dryer lint.
Even with the shop vac, the technician would have to reach in with his hand and pull more out.

I try not to worry too much about the big stuff – fire, drought, mean people, the Delta variant. When I go to bed at night, I free my mind and visualize playing my favorite golf course hole-by-hole. It takes a couple of weeks to play 18, because I usually fall asleep after one or two holes.

The visualization exercise has been good for my sleep and good for my game. I wonder now what else we can improve through visualization?

The myth of self-esteem

I loved this column by Carolyn Hax. A person who doesn’t feel pretty or smart asks how to improve self-esteem, and Carolyn blows up the whole concept of self-esteem because it’s an irrelevant ranking system.

Carolyn asks, “Do you feel smart around people who are less accomplished? Pretty around people who are less attractive?”

She concludes by saying throw away all measures of value, period. Our value is absolute. We exist therefore we matter. No more than anyone, and no less.

The unexpected pleasure of dryer lint

They say don’t sweat the small stuff, but actually, it kind of works for me. Let us draw our attention to, oh, I don’t know, dryer lint? Allow me to explain.

We bought our home when I retired a few years ago. The house is about 20 years old. That’s like 65 years old in people years. You know, the point at which things start to go wrong.

Actually, the house is in good shape, but just like us, things need tending to. One odd thing we noticed for quite some time were water spots on the sliding glass door that leads to the patio and the same sort of spots on an adjacent window.

We’d clean them off, and they would come back. The door is just under the outside portion of the dryer vent, so we scientifically studied our laundry habits and concluded the spots were related to moisture from the dryer vent. Maybe it was blowing back at the house and onto the door and window?

As it happens, we had a handyman service scheduled to install some lights and a few other minor jobs. We mentioned the problem and wondered if the vent might be clogged. Not that we had any idea how that could contribute to the water stains, but it sounded plausible to us.

Mr. Handyman said a clogged vent could absolutely be the issue, and they could “blow it out.” He said it might work, might not, but we all figured it was worth a try.

Our technician first hooked a hose up to the inside portion of the dryer vent and used a shop vac to suck out the lint. At first, only a little came out. Then he went outside and used a snake-like tool to probe the vent and free up the clogs. He had to go back and forth, between the inside vent and the outside vent multiple times to loosen the debris. He said the vent was packed tight with lint from one end to the other.

Eventually, clumps and masses of lint emerged from both ends of the vent. Twenty years of lint, one might assume. I watched the whole thing with complete and utter fascination, dashing back and forth to watch the latest bomb drop.

I couldn’t wait to see more stuff come out. Kind of like Dr. Pimple Popper. Our technician filled three shop vacs full of lint and then some, declaring the job complete only when there was full air flow through the vents. At the end, it was almost like birds singing.

I’m so glad we had this done. I’m amazed our dryer even worked, and one would have to assume all that lint is a fire hazard, even if it does live in a moist environment.

Cost was about $275. We haven’t done a load of laundry since the intervention, so we don’t know whether it solved the problem. But either way, 20 years of dryer lint is a special kind of entertainment we shall probably not see again in our lifetime.

Life in the slow lane

An old John Deere wagon overlooking the Zinfandel vineyard.

Understanding your limitations

When it comes to competition, some people rise to the occasion and perform their best. Others don’t. I’m among those who typically choke if you tell me there’s a prize involved.

I play in a weekly golf league, but most of the time it’s low stakes and quite manageable for someone like me, who does not embrace competitive sports. When I’m relaxed, I’m a pretty good golfer, but every now and then my league hosts a more formal tournament, and I can barely get through it.

The tournament ended yesterday, and I feel a huge sense of relief. I’m free again! Now, I can just play the game. Of course, more evolved humans can do that anyway, but I have some sort of blockage. When I first retired, I tried like the dickens to enjoy organized golf events, but for the most part, I prefer life in the slow lane.

To spare myself the drama, I may just opt out in the future. Let others scramble for the title while I enjoy a relaxing game of no-stakes golf with people who like to play their best but don’t care about winning or losing.

I view this as a retirement success story. Seek to understand your strengths and limitations and course correct as you go. Eliminate what isn’t useful or pleasant.

Camping

Speaking of the slow lane, Dale and I enjoy tent camping, but more than a year of hibernation put the kibosh on that. Now that we’re fully vaccinated and the range of possibilities is broadening, we decided to go for it. The only thing is, it’s really, really difficult to get a camping reservation in California during normal times, and now everyone has discovered the great outdoors. Places like Yosemite and Lake Tahoe are almost impossible.

Some people are willing to drive five hours for a first-come, first-served campsite. That would not be us. And that is why I spent the better part of a week tackling the reservation system, which includes ReserveAmerica.com, Recreation.gov, ReserveCalifornia.com and a cornucopia of sites managed by individual counties.

I should have started this in January, but I was pretty busy not doing much of anything. Despite being late to need, I finally got one reservation for a Sonoma County beach campground toward the end of June. In July, we’ll be going to Lassen Volcanic National Park. We may have the worst sites in the campgrounds. I don’t know, and I don’t care. We have reservations!

While I may sound like a tough outdoors girl what with tent camping and all, I do not leave the tent at night. We have a great tent with a little screened room attached to the sleeping area, and this is where I store my Luggable Loo. Because even tough girls have to pee.

My low-tech fitness tracker

My low-tech fitness tracker.

Although I avoid competitive sports, I love exercise in general and consider fitness part of my retirement lifestyle. The problem is I found myself doing too much of some things and not enough of others. With some activities, you need to do them at least twice a week to gain any benefit.

I finally made up these little cards to help me see what’s on track and what isn’t. I just started it this week, so we’ll see how well it works. I mean, it’s Thursday, and I can already see some big gaps!

I’m only documenting fitness-related stuff I need to do regularly to maintain some level of proficiency. Some activities are scheduled in advance, and the rest are as the mood strikes me. I don’t like a strict regimen.

My goal for golf practice is only once per week, but for everything else, I’m shooting for 2-3 times per week. The “R” under swimming means I have a lane reservation. I mark the box with an X after I’ve completed the activity. Weights are usually the first thing to slip, so this cheat sheet helps me stay committed.

Wine Tasting

Today was a lazy day, so Dale and I went to a winery. We live adjacent to Amador County, which produces amazing wines just as delicious as those from Napa and Sonoma. And a lot less expensive! They charge $5 for a tasting and deduct that if you purchase bottles, which we almost always do.

This area specializes in the lighter reds – Zinfandel, Barbera, Sangiovese, Primitivo, Tempranillo, Petit Syrah and a variety of house blends. The venues are typically gorgeous, and it makes us all the more grateful to live here.

While we were tasting, Dale spotted the old John Deere wagon facing the Zinfandel vineyard. Kind of cool.

The person who poured our wine asked what we had planned for the rest of the day. I said, oh, not much. Dinner?

I love retirement and the slowness of it all, so we’ll have to see whether my fitness tracker helps or hurts. Surely, we can accomplish a few things without becoming a slave to the schedule. Right?

Right?

Messing with your face

I played golf with some women I hadn’t met before and afterward, we sat socially distanced around an outside table and enjoyed a cold beer. Soon enough, the topic turned to faces and what to do about them as they age.

One woman was an advocate of Ultherapy. She goes annually and pays between $3,500 – $5,000 for a procedure to tighten everything from the décolletage up. The process is painful, she said, and they give her Valium before, during and after. But you walk wobble out looking good.

The other woman was furiously writing notes on her scorecard. She could definitely see Ultherapy in her future, but for now, she was sticking with Botox. I mostly listened, but then I asked a question.

While in the waiting room at the dermatologist for my skin cancer check-up, I overheard a woman talking about some sort of point system, and she wanted her points carried over from a previous provider. What’s up with that?

According to my fellow golfer, points are part of a rewards or loyalty system for Botox and other injectables. The more the merrier!

I’m in no position to judge, but the whole discussion made me sad nonetheless. I mean, life with all its trials and tribulations, and it all comes down to this? Wrinkles? Messing with your face?

Somehow, I think the prettiest girls – the cheerleaders and the beauty queens – have the hardest time accepting the inevitable ravages of age. I was the weird kid with bad teeth who wore men’s corduroy bedroom slippers to school, held my fork like it was a weapon and wrote poetry in spiral-bound notebooks I kept under the bed.

It’s a miracle I’m walking upright. But like good whiskey, I’ve aged well.

Nobody at the table asked me what I did about my face, because I’m pretty sure they could see the answer would be nothing.

Not that I am without vanity. I like clothes and care about how I look overall. In fact, I’ve been thinking more about how I am going to re-purpose my work wardrobe. I have some ideas that may be in the category of corduroy slippers, but I’m willing to give it a go and may even post the results on this very blog.

I might have to consult with one of my young fashionista friends – they always tell it like it is.  

cold-weather comfort food

With some rain expected this weekend, the temperature is supposed to drop into the low 50s, and I think of it as the last hurrah for cold-weather comfort food. And yes, I know 50s is not cold. We call it California Cold.

I’ve been keeping a list and crossing them off as we cook our way through:

  • Stuffed cabbage
  • Macaroni & Cheese
  • New England Baked Beans
  • Venison Meatloaf
  • Beef Stroganoff
  • Porchetta Pie
  • Chile Verde
  • Moussaka

I love eggplant, so I lean toward moussaka, which is a casserole made with ground lamb, browned eggplant, tomato sauce, grated sheep’s milk cheese and bechamel on top. Dale likes it, but not as much as I do.

Nostradonna predicts Dale will vote for porchetta pie or chile verde. I love both, so it’s no big deal one way or the other. I make the pie, which is actually several freeform savory tarts made with chunks of pork, pancetta, carrots, onions, fennel and fresh sage.

Dale makes the chile (along with homemade flour tortillas). He usually roasts the tomatillos and chiles outside on the grill, so rain may alter those plans. An alternative would be his Texas-style chile, made with chunks of pork and beef in a rich sauce and no outside grilling component. We love the chili topped with grated cheddar cheese, finely diced onion and buttered saltines on the side.

My neighbor made fun of me teased me about being busy, so busy, as she said in a not completely flattering way. I’m not sure where that’s coming from, but yeah, my days are full. Not stressful but busy and fulfilling in a good way.

Granted, golf sucks up a bunch of my discretionary retirement time, but so does cooking. All those recipes! What to make? And then shopping for ingredients and actually getting in the kitchen to weigh, chop, bake, roast, simmer and sear. And then being forced to eat such deliciousness.

I can think of worse ways to live.        

Airing of workplace grievances

Some of us chose retirement, and others were squeezed out or forced out of jobs earlier than they had hoped. Or maybe it got so bad you just said, screw it, I’m out of here.

If you’re still sad or angry about what happened to you at work, perhaps it’s time to accept and forgive. Here’s my spin on it. Almost like a variation of Festivus with the airing of workplace grievances. It helps to laugh.

Even though I made it to the finish line relatively unscathed, I had one awful job toward the end of my career that left me feeling quite bitter.

I try not to think about it much, but last week I was digging through files on my computer looking for an old picture of me with adorable hair, because you, know, the struggle is real, when I found a folder marked MFR.

What was this? I double-clicked, and there it was. A detailed chronicle of the one job I’ve tried to forget. A Memorandum for Record is what I called it – a long and painful documentation of bad behaviors and harassment that pretty much left me crying every day for a year.

As I read through my notes with fresh eyes, I finally realized it wasn’t all about me. I was caught in a web of complex corporate norms and cut-throat politics.

There were bad actors in high places, weak lieutenants and one low-level sociopath who lived on the blood of destruction. Everyone else operated under the theory that only the whale that surfaces gets harpooned.

In the end, I came out whole, better than whole, so I decided to accept and forgive. I just said, this is it, no more. Bitterness is not an emotion I want to live with. And I’ll say this, something about letting go just makes you feel better in every way. I feel lighter. A weight has been lifted.

True, there’s no forgiveness in my heart for the sociopath or the person who provided top cover, so acceptance will have to suffice. I decided to just accept that what happened happened and release myself from the internal drama … almost like being an observer, watching the whole thing from afar. As a result, they no longer live rent-free in my head. That seems like a fair trade.

Anyway, that’s my perspective, and I guess it applies to just about any negative emotions we can’t quite dump. Maybe we can move on if we keep trying.

Enchilada Sauce

As promised, I’m sharing Dale’s recipe for enchilada sauce. We freeze it in small tubs and use it for enchiladas … hence the name. But we also use it as a sauce for huevos rancheros or combine it with chunks of browned chicken to make a filling for various tortilla dishes.

We buy our dried chili peppers from Pendery’s.

Dale’s Enchilada Sauce

Print Recipe

Ingredients
  

  • 10 Dried Ancho Chili Peppers
  • 2 Dried Aji Amarillo Chili Peppers Optional, but they add nice flavor and heat
  • 2 Canned Chipotle Chili Peppers in Adobo
  • 1 tsp Adobo Sauce From the canned chipotles
  • 3 Cloves of Garlic
  • 1/4 cup Diced Onion
  • 1 tsp Cumin
  • 3 cups Chicken Stock
  • 1 tblsp Lard

Instructions
 

  • Seed and stem the dried chili peppers. Put the peppers in a saucepan, cover with water and bring to a boil. Turn off the heat and let them sit for 10 minutes. Drain.
  • In a blender, combine the peppers, adobo sauce, garlic, onion, cumin and one cup of the chicken stock.
  • In a saucepan, melt the lard and add the blended sauce. Cook over medium heat for about 10 minutes, slowing adding the remaining two cups of chicken stock.
  • Cool, and refrigerate or freeze.

The case for retirement

Homemade sourdough toast and scrambled eggs made with extra egg yolks leftover from another recipe.

It seems like most of the advice about retirement is to keep working. Experts cite financial and health benefits, as well as the ongoing need for people to live with purpose. Apparently, only a job provides such purpose?

Of course, I disagree work is the solution for most of life’s woes, and I’ve been toying with the idea of penning an op-ed about the case for retirement. I’m still fleshing it out, but my basic premise is that we add layers and layers of accommodations and behaviors to earn a living, and we start to believe that’s who we really are.

Or perhaps we just accept who we’ve become. The workplace is a powerful force, but everything changes if you have the financial resources to exit.

Retirement can be the opportunity to discover or re-discover who you are when nobody is watching. I’ve been searching for a metaphor. The first one that came to mind is of a snake shedding its skin. Snakes shed their skins because they are growing, and the old skin no longer fits. That sort of applies to how we evolve in retirement, but I think it misses one key point.

If it’s true we add layers to survive, then shedding them over time returns us to our natural state. That’s not how it works with snakes, so I’ve been trying to think of another metaphor. Perhaps we are more like furniture being stripped of multiple layers of paint to ultimately reveal the lush original wood.

I’m several layers away from exposing bare wood, but I’ve been blowing some dust and cleaning up a lot of paint chips. I want to see what’s underneath.

Are you morphing in retirement? How would you describe it?  

Extra gluten, please

Bread porn.

I love, love, love making sourdough bread. I believe Gollum, my starter, has grown stronger with time. The bread has a tangy sourdough taste, and it rose higher this time. More kneading reduced the size of the holes, and I’m learning to score the bread with crisp lines.

Bread baking started out as a pandemic hobby, but I’m in for the long haul. Now that I kind of have the process for basic sourdough locked in, I’d like to experiment with variations. Thank goodness neither one of us has gluten issues. That would be a bummer.

Awhile back I suggested I might try making croissants. I studied the Cook’s Illustrated recipe and video, but it just seemed a bridge too far. I finally did subscribe to the NY Times cooking section, and they just posted a different recipe for croissants.

The Cook’s Illustrated recipe makes 22, which seems rather ridiculous. The NY Times makes eight. That sounds more manageable to me, so I might give it a go.

The secret to better cuticles

I’m getting a pedicure today. I’m as immune as I’ll ever be, and everyone will be masked up. I honestly don’t know why I care so much about my toes, when my hands and fingernails look absolutely horrible.

My cuticles are the worst in the world. But I have discovered the secret to better cuticles. It involves a soapy water and a sink full of dishes.

Dale made macaroni and cheese this week, and the mess was horrendous. Lots of extra stuff that wouldn’t go in the dishwasher, so I washed a lot by hand. My cuticles softened up, and the dry stuff came right off.

And no, this does not mean I’m signing up to clean Dale’s messes. However, his mac & cheese might be worth it. Not gooey like some – lots of extra sharp cheddar cheese but still firm.

By the way, I still owe you a recipe for Dale’s enchilada sauce. Coming soon to a blog near you.

COVID-19 vaccination: Part II

We received our second doses of the two Pfizer vaccines, and it was a bit underwhelming. Having been through round one, you sort of know what to expect.

Although we faced the possibility of weather delays impacting our doses, everything went down without a hitch. We drove to the same indoor mass vaccination site, and the only difference was double masking.

Prior to entering the building, we were provided with a surgical mask to wear over or under our cloth masks.

Neither of us had any side effects. My arm was a little tender to the touch, but that’s it.

Still, it feels great to be fully vaccinated. I know it’s not a get-out-of-jail-free card, but as I understand it, of all the participants in all the vaccine trials, no one went to the hospital for COVID or died of COVID. That includes the Johnson & Johnson vaccine, which gets a bad rap because it’s not quite as effective in preventing mild illness.

But if there’s a 100 percent chance you won’t go to the hospital for COVID and a 100 percent chance you won’t die of COVID, then I’d say the vaccines work. All of them.

I’m not a medical professional, so please feel free to correct me. I’m sensitive to percentages, and numbers aren’t always what they seem, but I do know 100 percent is good. I was diagnosed with Stage 3 ovarian cancer years after my ovaries were removed during a routine hysterectomy.

According to what I’ve read, there was a 99 percent chance I would not get ovarian cancer with no ovaries. I drew the unlucky number. However, the statistics indicated I had a 25-30 percent chance of living five years, and I’m about to celebrate my 22-year cancer anniversary.

If only they had a cancer vaccine that prevented hospitalization and death.

I’ve been reading about people cheating to get the vaccine ahead of schedule, and I can’t believe someone with musical talent hasn’t already done a parody of Harry Belafonte’s old song, Jump in the Line. I think one of the refreshed lyrics could read:

Don’t Jump in di line, jab your body in time

(Okay, I believe you)

In absence of said parody, feel free to sing it around the house.

One week closer to a haircut

While I thank you very much for your most helpful comments about my hair, I hate looking at that picture, and I hate thinking about my hair. I’m no closer to a solution, other than to just get the trim next week as scheduled. As one wise reader said, the hair in my profile picture is probably the right length.

Barbara, a long-time reader from when I used to write about gray hair on my blog Rock the Silver, has suggested in the comments section on my last post a hairstyle she calls Fuchsschwanz. It sounds great, so I’m going to do a search for that and then see what happens.

I was happy with my hair for years, so I don’t know why I’m all of the sudden riddled with doubt, other than pandemic wear and tear. Is it possible there’s an end in sight and perhaps we shall be released from captivity?

In terms of re-entering the world, I’m ready to look good for a change. Even if it takes a little more effort.

Travel bragging

My foursome in golf yesterday included a woman I shall describe as a “travel bragger.” I don’t know the exact roots of this affliction, but I’ve seen it before, and I think it’s about fulfilling life’s dreams, and I certainly shouldn’t be critical of that, but …

She cannot stop name-dropping all the exotic places she’s been and where she’s going next. I could see having that conversation afterward, perhaps in a post-pandemic world with clubhouses and cocktails, but I prefer a quiet game regardless. About the only words I want to exchange during golf are, “Great drive” or “good putt.”  

After hearing about the holy land, Bratislava and wine tasting in Portugal, she said, “Do you travel much?” I said no. I wish I had just stopped there. I find one-word responses minimize the flow of chatter. But always the pleaser, I added, “We traveled a lot when we were younger and lived overseas for quite a few years.”

It’s like I opened the floodgates. Where? Oh, what was it like? To me, it was a complete distraction. I guess it’s not travel bragging when it’s your passion. I do recognize golf is a social game, so I will continue to work on conversation management. Once the clubhouse opens again, I might say, I’d love to talk about it – are you staying for a drink afterward?

Might work.