Category: Simple Pleasures

Less news, more color

A long time ago on a planet far, far away, I used to read a daily newspaper and then, you know, go off to live life. Isn’t that quaint? Then CNN came along – because the first one’s free, and I gradually became an instant news junkie.

Whenever I could get near a computer or phone, there I was checking the headlines, getting a fix from the church of what’s happening now. I considered myself a high-functioning addict and didn’t want to change a thing until the political stuff started messing with my head.

I wanted moderation not abstinence, so I fashioned myself a little rehab. In the morning, I read the local newspaper. It’s OK, but even sports scores aren’t current, so I allow myself to check a major news source once or twice a day just to see if anything big happened or, um, well, if someone in the limelight may have succumbed to an untimely passing.

While I never thought my attention span was compromised, I got used to the quick jolts, which really are just a distraction, and now I seem to be getting better at focusing on the moment. In some ways, it’s like switching from black and white to color.

For example, I’m paying more attention to simple sightings, like the color of the trees when I walk. The birds. The dogs and those who walk them. I procrastinate less when there are chores on the docket, because I refuse to sit around reading that stuff like I used to.

Not that I don’t dabble. I started to create a category for Krazy Kabinet Pick of the Week, but there were too many to choose from. We’ve talked about the stages of grief, and I think we forgot the one where you just laugh. Because, seriously, I choose not to be angry all the time, and I’m out of other options.

What I’m Reading

You know I love my crime fiction, but with this refreshed brain of mine, I thought it might be good to explore nonfiction. I went to the library and right there in the newly arrived section discovered Find More Birds by Heather Wolf. I was already noticing more birds, so it seemed like divine intervention.

What a great little book, which includes gorgeous photographs taken by the author. She offers 111 tips for spotting birds wherever you are and without necessarily becoming a serious birdwatcher.

Not that I might not go that route, but the book inspired me to take baby steps. Of course, I wait until December, when most of the birds that pass through our backyard have already moved on, but I’m not a quitter.

What I’m watching

As it happens, only the first episode of Van der Valk was super-gruesome. I’m on season 2, and it’s getting better all the time. I’m sort of loving these international crime dramas and now, thanks to your most excellent suggestions, I have a bunch more in my queue.

Mid-December also brings new episodes of All Creatures Great and Small. One of my golf buddies suggested this show, and I thought, oh, so not me. And it isn’t … but I love it nonetheless.

Dale recorded the Ken Burns documentary on Leonardo da Vinci. This is another one that would not normally be my thing, but you can’t go wrong with Ken Burns. Plus, Dale has a low tolerance for TV, so at least it’s something we might both enjoy.

What I’m eating

Our Thanksgiving feast was fab. The pumpkin cheesecake was pointing a gun to my head, so he’s in the freezer, experiencing the joys of timeout. In terms of leftovers, so far we’ve had cold turkey sandwiches, then a break for Dale’s homemade pizza with mushrooms, hot Italian sausage, fresh jalapeños and green olives.

Tonight is hot turkey sandwiches on toasted sourdough bread. The gravy was particularly good this year, so that should be delicious. I’m actually a gravy convert. My mother was not a good cook, so everything came out of a package. I didn’t taste the real thing until I met Dale, and I would say it was all over, but he already had me at roast duckling  à l’orange.

Today is when he breaks down the turkey. One whole breast will go in the freezer. He saves the carcass for stock, which I’m going to make in the slow cooker this year. But just the stock … I’ll make the soup itself on the cooktop. We have been enjoying Jane Brody’s turkey carcass soup recipe for many years.

I pulled out Jane’s 1985 cookbook yesterday and noticed it is subtitled, “Living the High-Carbohydrate Way.” Of course, we’re still into carbs at our house, but my, how times have changed.

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.

The pleasures of being ordinary

Is it me, or is there a hint of joy in the air? Call me crazy, but it’s kind of fun not to be so pessimistic about the election. And it’s always a bonus when ignorant sound bites turn into humorous t-shirts.

I mentioned I’ve been out and about more than usual. The big reveal is that I was on jury duty for the better part of a month. We finished our deliberations yesterday, and I am free again. They said we can now talk about the case, but I’m done. I’ll just say it was a criminal case featuring child pornography, kinky sex and other details I’d prefer to forget.

Aside from the case itself, hanging around the courthouse is no picnic. We had a lot of downtime waiting for things to get going, and the slice of life that paraded past was grim at best. One woman in a cute orange outfit and chains saw us piling into the jury room and yelled, “You’re all going to hell!”

The whole experience made me appreciate the pleasures of being ordinary. And grateful for my privileged and drama-free retirement. When’s my tee time? What’s for dinner? No interactions with the police so far. My sex life may be boring, but I’m grateful 12 jurors, three alternates and a gallery full of spectators will never have to hear about it.

So, after a brief pause to admire my life choices, I return to the bubble. I’ve sort of kept up with my strengthening exercises, but it has been hit or miss, and I’m happy to get back to my mindless routine. I went to the driving range and hit some balls. Swimming tomorrow. Pizza. Maybe a movie.

Just ordinary stuff.

Good retirement problems

I haven’t been to the mall in years, but I needed either white shorts or a white skort for a golf thing where teams like to wear matching outfits. The things I do to be sociable.

It’s a Hawaiian theme, and my sister said you aren’t going to wear a plastic lei are you? I said, oh, yes I am. She howled and wants a picture. Fat chance that.

The mall was a complete waste of time. Call me crazy, but I would think this is the peak of white shorts season. They were nowhere to be found. A couple of white skorts were on display, but they looked short enough to display your hoo-hah.

Home I came for a meeting with Dr. Amazon. I guess we brought this on ourselves, but it seems you really do have to go online for anything. I bought four skorts in different styles and sizes. All on Prime, so I was thinking I could send back the ones I don’t want or all of them if need be.

Panic shopping this week is not my idea of fun. Still, I know this is not a bad problem in the hierarchy of problems.

Good news … one of the skorts arrived this morning, and it fits!!! And it’s a little longer, so no hoo-hah action. The event is Wednesday, and I’m relieved that monkey is off my back. The others arrive tomorrow, so we’ll see if I like any of them better.

Our club is hosting this event, so it’s a big deal, and we all have jobs (in addition to playing). One of mine is to sell mulligans at the welcome table. My sister said, you? Handling money? Geez, so I stumbled a bit with geometry, but I can make change. Oh, and build a retirement portfolio, if that counts.

I’m still struggling with time management. I know important worker bees cannot understand how retirees can be busy, but it’s true. We just have different priorities. My priorities are food and fitness, but chores keep messing with my mojo.

We have someone coming next week to do the windows and screens, inside and out, but they don’t do plantation shutters. I decided to bite the bullet and do it myself. Instead of going after it like a maniac, as I might have done in my 30s, I made a list of all the rooms with shutters and am committed to doing one or two rooms a day. Then I check them off the list because it feels good to check things off the list.

My strengthening exercises take about an hour, and I’m whipped when I’m done. I missed some swim time because I just couldn’t muster the energy to go after completing the exercises. What I’ve learned is that I need to do the exercises early so I can have recovery time if I want to play later in the afternoon. On golf days, I just do a few of the core exercises when I get home.

I’ve been neglecting my art, and I miss the creative process, so I need to make time for that. Then there’s food. Yesterday I made a double batch of my favorite juice – celery, apples, black grapes, spinach and lime. I freeze them in 4-ounce bottles. Also, a batch of peanut butter cookies for the freezer. Indulgent, but healthier than store-bought!

Oh, and bread. I’ve been feeding my sourdough starter for a few days, and he’s ready to go. I’ll make the dough later and let it rise overnight. Then it does a second rise tomorrow morning in the banneton. I suspect it will go in the oven around 10.  

The question is what to have with it. Good bread will not go to waste at our house, but I like to pair a fresh loaf with something special. We have some fabulous beef stew in the freezer, but it doesn’t really feel like beef stew season. Although our air conditioning always feels like Ice Station Zebra to me, so stew could work.

BLTs with farmers market tomatoes would be yum, but I don’t think they’re ready yet. Minestrone or some other kind of veggie soup would be good. See? This stuff takes time.

Not that I’m complaining. I feel fortunate to be alive and able to enjoy the simple pleasures of retirement. It took me a long time to figure out how to manage my work life, so I guess it’s no surprise it takes a few years to manage life after work. All in all, not a bad problem to have.

Time calibration

I never thought I’d say this about retirement, but in some ways, time is harder to manage than money.

In the cosmic sense, you think, how much time do I have left on the planet? Another 20 years? Is this how I want to spend it? For the most part, I’d say yes, but then I wonder what I might be missing.

Mostly I avoid thinking about the cosmos as it applies to me. I have a good life and try to enjoy the time that has been given. Still, I’m wondering if I need a time calibration on the simple pleasures of day-to-day life.

I mean, I’ll get up early for golf if I have to, but that’s about it. I’m a fan of the slow start, which means a leisurely breakfast and a slew of puzzles from the New York Times. By the way, I’m loving the new game, Strands.

Then there are chores, exercise, reading, writing, streaming shows, travel, art and the art of food – browsing recipes, shopping for ingredients, preparing meals and enjoying the results! I’m sure the young and busy with their families and jobs and all that are thinking, oh, wah, how hard can it be?

Well, true, it’s not that it’s hard. It’s just that we older folks know the clock is ticking, and it goes back to that cosmic thing. Could I be doing this differently? The big thing for me is setting aside more time to write. Not only for blog posts but also because writers write. It helps me think.

I’ve been reading a lot, but I’d like to try more challenging material. I saw a paperback of All Quiet on the Western Front in our stash, and I barely remember it from high school. And other than one class in college, I’ve never taken to Shakespeare, although it might be time. I’ll need to be upright for that.

Snuggly reading under the covers is better suited for a good who-done-it.

Now that I think about it, I’m doing OK, but maybe a little less golf and a little more in the way of intellectual pursuits. Not that golf doesn’t fry your brain – just in a different way. Anyway, as I was thinking about how I live and spend my time as I age, I started a random list of questions I should probably work through. See what you think.

  • How much sleep is too much sleep? Do you have to stop at 10?
  • Why is everything better with butter?
  • Amazon or Spotify? Do I care what Neil Young thinks?
  • What counts as one glass of wine?
  • Acorn or BritBox?
  • Is it Friday or was that yesterday?
  • If you get up to pee three times in a night, does an angel get its wings?
  • What’s so bad about a gluten-rich diet?
  • Why is it always about the knees?
  • If I can gain five pounds in a week, why can’t I lose five pounds in a week?
  • How many Law & Order reruns can I watch? Am I wrong to love Lenny?
  • Kale. OK, but why?
  • Peeps. Crap candy or nature’s miracle?

There are more, but we’ll stop here so you can get back to the important things you were doing with your time.

On dying happy

Maybe you don’t know this, and I hope you have no reason to, but mastectomies can leave you looking rather mangled. In my case, I went for the aesthetic flat closure instead of reconstruction. No regrets, because either way, you will not look the same. Why do they call it aesthetic when it’s anything but?

Because lumpy was already taken.

Actually, I rather like my lumpy flat closure and find it freeing to be done with bras and all that. Still, I have a mess o’ scars, and my armpits ended up sort of puffy. Late last year, they seemed puffier than normal, so I thought it would be prudent to have them checked out.

As I was sharing my observations with the doctor, I said the whole thing could be my imagination. I can stare into the mirror and easily see signs of imminent death. She said you don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’ve had some bad stuff happen. It changes you.

I know you cancer survivors get it. The slightest thing can take the wind out of your sails. So, I’ve been a little worried about it. However, I am pleased to report both sides have been thoroughly evaluated, and it appears I have a simple case of puffy pits. I’m assuming it’s related to bulging belly and flabby ass.

The good news is I dodged the bullet yet again. I always say I’m one of the luckiest unlucky people I know!

But, jeez, you hear things. A friend’s husband stood up, got dizzy and fell, which resulted in a traumatic brain injury. She said he is recovering fully, although it’s a long haul. They have a new appreciation for the simple pleasures of life.

Another friend of mine was playing golf with her partner, and he had a heart attack and died. Boom, just like that. She said, well, he died doing something he loved.

Hmmm. I don’t know. Does that make it better? Maybe. Just maybe.

I was vacuuming the stairs last week and almost took a tumble. Perhaps they would say, well, she was cleaning the house. She died doing something she hated. That does sort of suck.

And so I try to make peace with the fact that death will come for us all, but I do hope it’s later rather than sooner. I’m definitely in the die happy camp and humbly suggest the trick is to stack the deck and live happy. Do more and more of the things you love and less and less of the things you hate. Relish the simple pleasures.

I’ve said it before. Dust ages well undisturbed.  

A happy retirement Monday

Just another happy retirement Monday. It’s lovely outside now, but we should see rain later. I like it better when it rains at night. However, I also like when it gets dark and spooky during the middle of the day. Life is easier when we make peace with the weather, whatever it is.

My back and knees and other miscellaneous body parts are in harmony. I have a good book (The Lincoln Highway by Amor Towles). I’m swimming and walking and will be playing golf this week. And today I’m cooking one of my favorite dishes. Moussaka. It is an all-day affair, which reinforces the joy of not working and having the time to make delicious food.

The recipe I use is from David Rosengarten. Some of you may remember him. He was on the Food Network when they first started up. He had a show with Donna Hanover, one of Giuliani’s exes. Kind of a shame, because she seemed better than that. Although he seemed better in those days, too, didn’t he?

Anyway, sometimes you see David these days as a judge on Iron Chef America. We have his cookbook, Taste. Among our other favorites from the book are Singapore Crab and Spaghetti Carbonara.

I love eggplant in all forms. In Egypt, we used to get these little skinny white ones, which were fantastic. This recipe makes a big-assed pan of Moussaka, so it calls for four eggplants. I’ve tried cutting the recipe in half, but it doesn’t work as well for me. Fortunately, it makes great freezer food.

While I’ve seen many variations of Moussaka, with this one you roast the eggplant first and then brown slices on the cooktop. You make tasty tomato sauce and brown ground lamb with onions and garlic. Then all that is mixed up and simmered for an hour.

A lot like lasagna, the dish is layered with fresh breadcrumbs, the lamb mixture, cheese and béchamel sauce. The recipe calls for a Greek cheese I can’t find, but I follow David’s recommendation and substitute Pecorino Romano.

I like to get everything going early and have it all done up and ready to go in the oven by happy hour. There’s some white wine in the lamb mixture, but I’m thinking this is more of a red wine thing. As the house Silmarillion, I’ll have to make a decision.

But such a decision is a pleasure. I didn’t have to put anyone on a Performance Improvement Plan. I didn’t have to fire anyone. I didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn and drive to work. No crazy executive called to make unreasonable demands. Retirement is good.

Oh, and a pro tip for you female cooks out there. Wrap your apron tie around the back and then bring it to the front for a final knot. If you should so happen to leave the apron strings dangling down the back, it’s entirely possible you might forget they are there if you should have to pee, and it could get messy. Not that I have any personal experience in such matters, but I’ve heard things.

Retirement math

Last year was my fifth year of retirement, and I’m pleased to report I’m getting better at accomplishing very little. In 2023, I read a lot of crime fiction, wrote a bunch of blog posts, took a few road trips, watched a couple dozen shows on TV, walked, stretched, swam, cooked and ate delicious food. Dabbled at art.

I’d say it was a fine year. As a recovering over-achiever, it feels good to enjoy simple pleasures and chill. I don’t really like to keep count, as my last job was all about metrics gone wild. That said, you may be interested to learn I also enjoyed 21 blissful hours of full-body massage and about 100 rounds of golf.

Now for a “deep dive” into retirement math.

At an average of 4.5 hours per round, that’s 450 hours of golf. If one assumes a 40-hour work week, 450 hours converts to 11.25 weeks of golf, and that is the equivalent of playing golf for more than two months of the year!

My massages added up to $1,960. However, I don’t dye my hair, so let’s deduct $125 per month from massage expenditures. That leaves us at $460, which a working person such as myself might have spent on makeup, shoes, dry cleaning or even Botox. So, let’s just wipe the slate clean and accept that in retirement math, my massages are free.

There might be something to metrics after all. Seriously, I don’t think I’m playing enough golf.

Living gently

The reluctant travelers have returned from a two-night stay in Morro Bay, a casual beach town in San Luis Obispo County. We mainly go to smell the ocean and eat seafood. Mission accomplished.

Even though we had a lovely trip, it’s good to be home. Everyone has to find their own retirement rhythm, and my hat’s off to those who are taking this time to see the world, but I can’t imagine being gone for weeks at a time. We enjoy our cozy lifestyle and couldn’t wait to get back in the kitchen. Other than the golf course, I don’t want to go anywhere for a while.

Dale made pizza last night. I’m making bison curry in the Instant Pot tonight. I already made naan in the pizza oven and will just have to heat them up. So delicious! Dale has some beautiful jalapeño peppers from his small garden, so he’s going to make beer batter-fried jalapeños stuffed with cheddar cheese. We’ll have that as an appetizer.

To celebrate our return home, I ordered the pasta attachment for the KitchenAid mixer. I’ve been using a hand-crank pasta machine, and while it works fine, I want to be able to use both hands to guide the pasta.

It should arrive later today, and that means homemade pasta tomorrow! Our basil is looking gorgeous, so I believe it will be pesto.

I also have some homemade lobster stock thawing in the refrigerator. I’ll use that to make miso seafood chowder later this week … probably Tuesday. Monday’s a golf day, so  I can start a no-knead loaf of bread in the evening when I get back from a hard day of sport and bake it the next morning. I prefer bread over oyster crackers.

Certainly, there are more important things in the world than what I’m eating, but for sanity’s sake, I am learning to disengage from politics and global trauma. For lack of a better term, I think of it as living gently. For now, anyway, I’m happy and grateful to enjoy the simple pleasures that define my retirement – golf, cooking, art, walking, swimming, reading and writing.

Camping? Maybe.

The weather has been beautiful, and I’ve been taking full advantage. No job and plenty of time to play! Between golf, walking and swimming, it’s hard to make room for my indoors stuff such as reading, cooking and art. Just so you know, hunting through recipes eats up a lot of time.

I’m not complaining. This is not a bad problem to have. I’m always puzzled when people think we don’t do anything in retirement. Best I can tell, most of us have plenty to keep us amused, and I like to think there’s always room for more.

Or is there?

We used to enjoy camping. Sometimes in a tent and sometimes in a small trailer. But shortly after I retired, we got rid of both and have been hoteling it ever since.

Maybe it was the nice weather or perhaps a bit of folly, but I started daydreaming about peaceful quality time in the wilderness with my loving husband of 44 years and asked him if he still thought about camping. He said yes, and I was pleased, but be forewarned, it goes downhill from here.

We’re car campers and like a somewhat boxy tent we can stand up in with plenty of room for a queen-sized air mattress. I refuse to leave the tent at night to pee, so I have this thing called a luggable loo. It’s a five-gallon bucket with a toilet seat. You buy liners with gel that dries everything up and then dispose of it in the morning.

It works great, but Dale is quite fussy about the location of my loo. It can’t be in the main part of the tent, and not all tents have two rooms. Our old one was perfect, but when it wore out, we couldn’t find a suitable replacement. I’ve been looking since the beginning of the pandemic and finally found a tent at REI that I thought would work.

Last weekend, we headed over to REI and bought it.

On the way home, I said, “I’m kind of excited.” He said, “I guess.”

I’m like, what? I spent years looking for a tent, and that’s the best you can cough up?

I willed myself to relax, figuring he’d get with the program soon enough. However, I said, let’s not take it out of the bag until we’re absolutely positively sure we want to camp. It’s OK if we don’t. We just need to be honest with each other. We left it on the dining room table with the receipt in case it has to go back.

After a couple of days, I asked him what he thought about the whole idea. He finally confessed he does want to camp, but he doesn’t want to give up hotels, either. Well, that’s easy enough. I assured him we can do both. However, I said don’t take the tent out of the bag just yet.

I began to research locations and asked him if he had any preferences. Mountains? Beach? He said whatever. Not exactly the big bold clue I was looking for. I was on my own.

The way I figured it, we had a cold winter and the snow is starting to melt, so I thought June was too early for the mountains. The beach was perfect. These northern California beaches are beautiful and kind of cold, but it’s not like we’re out frolicking in the water, and you don’t have to worry about bears or snow.

I presented him with a list of beaches, and he said, “The beach? It’s pretty damp this time of year. We won’t enjoy being in a tent.”

After I accused him of being Big Bird – the one who waits while all the work is being done and then comes in and craps all over everything, I realized he’s probably right. I said I need more time to think.

Um, don’t take the tent out of the bag just yet.

So, the tent was $599. If we camp three times a year, we’ve pretty much recouped our costs if you compare it to a hotel room. I could probably find ideal tent camping spots for each of the summer months – July, August and September. Nothing wrong with being fair-weather campers.

We get outside in nature. We change our routine. We eat great camping food. We snuggle in our zip-together sleeping bags. All is good.

I’m thinking we will keep the tent. And we will find some lovely places to camp with reasonably predictable weather. As I continue to research options, I explained all this to Dale, who happily agreed. I’m feeling pretty good about the whole thing, but I said, let’s think about this for a few more days. Give Big Bird time to reveal his true thoughts.

Lord, what we do for relationships. I think it gets harder as we age, but that’s me. Anyway, we have reached consensus. I see camping in our future, but just so you know, the tent is still in the bag.