Category: Simple Pleasures

Armchair travel and pesto

My Chopped basket. I think I’ll make pesto and homemade pasta!

Today is one of those days where everything feels hard. It seems like everyone out there is mad at everyone else. The news is horrible. I go for a walk, and I have to dodge people left and right to keep six feet away. And, oh, if I want my favorite masks for golf tomorrow, I’d better run another load of wash. I had an appointment to swim laps, but I canceled. Swimming has become such an ordeal.

I decided to stay home. Isn’t that crazy? It seems like most people are itching to go out and do normal things, but sometimes I think we still need a respite from the madness. For me, it means retreating to what’s comfortable. Simple pleasures.

First thing’s first. Lunch. While I eat mostly healthy unprocessed food, I do love me some Cheez Whiz on fresh celery. I’ve been quite the cookie monster lately, so that was my meal, but a tasty one it was. Lunch at home always seems like such an indulgence after years of poking down something at work. It’s actually one of my favorite things about retirement. Well, and breakfast.

Have your lunch habits changed since you retired? I hope you are enjoying something delicious …

Next step was downloading what is turning out to be a pretty good book about hiking the Appalachian Trail. A little armchair travel is good for the soul. I don’t actually want to hike the AT, but I love to walk and am always looking for inspiration. Over the years, I’ve given a lot of thought to doing some sort of long walk, but I have so many caveats I usually give up.

In the Great Big Picture Book of things that scare me about a long walk, here they are in no particular order:

  • Peeing
  • Cliffs and drop-offs
  • Wild animals
  • Pooping
  • Murderers
  • Rapists
  • Bad knees
  • Bad back
  • Weather
  • Sleeping
  • Eating
  • Social distancing

That’s just for starters. For now, I’m gradually increasing my mileage with the idea of doing a long day hike that starts after breakfast and ends before happy hour. That seems doable.

Dinner is always a topic of high interest at our house. Since I decided to avoid the world today, I wanted to cook. I was going to make Chana Masala, but we didn’t have all the ingredients. And it’s not like going to the store is easy.

However, we did have some lovely basil from the garden, so I’m making pesto. I’m also making pasta from scratch. I’ve made pasta before with great success, but I don’t do it enough to feel as though I’ve mastered it. I always make sure we have back-up pasta.

That should get me through the day. And it’s Tuesday! Chopped night on the Food channel. Thank you, universe.

Doodling in the time of pandemic

On the right is my newest attempt at art or something like it … woodburning on a pallet scrap. Left is an older experiment on wood with acrylic paint.
A close-up of my woodburned doodles.

I saw a headline whereupon Dr. Fauci said normalcy is unlikely until next year – and I thought, “Wow! Only a year? That’s nothing.” In the Army, we used to say we could stand on our heads for that long.  And doodling. I’ve got that going for me.

My county has some of the lowest infection rates in California. Still, Dale and I are more vigilant than most. The fitness center re-opened with lots of restrictions … all meeting with my complete approval. They don’t call me the sanitation marshal for nothing.

Lap swimming resumed by appointment only. I went Saturday and am going again today. I wear a mask as I enter and leave the facility, do not use the locker room and change out of my suit from underneath my swim poncho.

I’ve started limiting the amount of time I spend using my computer and cell phone … partly because I don’t think it’s healthy to stare at a screen all day. Seems like I would have learned that from work! Here I am retired, doing the same damned thing. I’m also paying less attention to the news.

It turns out I can stay informed without subjecting myself to electric shocks every 20 minutes.

More time outdoors

While avoiding the blue screens, I’m spending more outdoors. Golf has always kept me outside for long periods of time, and that’s a good thing. In addition to my regular schedule of walking, Dale and I resumed our weekly hikes, which were abandoned earlier in the pandemic.

The weather has been great, and I thought, why not read a book outside under the beach umbrella? A little staycation. I’m starting to go through our treasure trove of cookbooks and discover recipes we overlooked the first time around.

Growing cannabis

I’m working to up my game as a gentlewoman cannabis farmer. My last batch was disappointing. Didn’t look right, didn’t smoke right. No potency. Perhaps I had beginner’s luck with my first grow, but I think something was wrong with this seed. Hence the name – bad seed.

I have two plants growing. One was outdoors, but I got worried about pests and brought it in. They are propped together by the window sharing the LED light, and I can only assume that’s not good. But I guess I’ll ride this out to the end.

Part of the problem is I’m growing ruderalis, which is an autoflowering plant that is easier to grow but not particularly robust. I’d like to try growing a sativa/indica hybrid. One plant can yield a year’s worth of pot. But to grow a plant like that indoors, you have to trigger the flowering stage, which means at some point I have to create a place where the plant can have 12 hours of total darkness.

I’m not much of a gardener, so I’d like to keep this simple. And inexpensive. Of course, what did I spy with my little eye but a fancy and beautiful contraption that would be perfect, especially if you live in a place where you have to hide it. Only $2,000! Dale said that buys a lot of weed at the cannabis dispensary.

I’m thinking a cheap grow tent that doesn’t do anything but block out light when I need that. I don’t want to invest in hydroponics, fans, dehumidifiers, etc. I’m still reading up on my options. What is it they say, cannabis is not addicting but growing it is?

Art that says, “I was here.”

Finally, you might recall I scavenged a wood pallet from a neighbor’s pile of debris. Dale broke it up for me. I got this idea that maybe it would be fun to get started in woodburning. I researched it online and then got an inexpensive ( $25) woodburning tool for beginners.

When I first started this project, I thought I should try to work through any emotions I had associated with the pandemic. It turns out I don’t have any! At least not now. It is what it is. Science. Reality.

I don’t know how to draw real things, but I used to doodle spirals all the time during online meetings at work. I sanded the wood scrap and then started in on the spirals, later filling it in with tiny dots. Two coats of spray-on varnish. Nailed it to the fence as an embellishment and plan to make more, some with paint and color to add variety.  

Dale said it reminded him of primitive cave drawings. Not particularly artistic, but enough to say, “I was here.”

Purging old writing

Purging old writing and re-purposing journals.

Some say you should never throw away anything you ever wrote. I’ve taken a different path. Over the years and many moves, I’ve whittled down my stockpile of journals and published writing to one large tub. I periodically go through it and purge stuff I no longer want to keep.

I’ve purchased many lovely notebooks, but I as a diarist, I was inconsistent at best. Most notebooks had a few pages of scribbling about my sad woes and then many blank pages. After skimming through the entries and seeing nothing of consequence, I ripped those pages out for the recycling bin but saved the notebooks.

While I don’t journal, I do keep a notebook on my desk for working projects, so I shouldn’t need to buy anymore notebooks ever.

One thing I did notice and kept was a poem about Christmas I wrote in my late teens. Apparently, I’ve hated Christmas for a long time. In a way, that makes me feel better. It’s not like I made it up in mid-life. I was born this way.

I found a few paragraphs of a short story. I tried to write fiction years ago and quit, coming to perhaps a false realization that I don’t have it in me. Maybe it’s the quarantine talking, but I saw some potential. Not world-class literature, for sure, but I kind of want to know the back story and what happens next.

The bahnhof was cold, as they usually are, and damp, as I knew it would be. I could already feel the fever coming on, but we had a couple of hours to kill before the train left. I needed a drink, and I needed a book and Richard had already decided to be difficult.

Why didn’t we rent a car and drive, he wanted to know. But of course, he knew. It was the train. I needed to be on that train. There was no other option.

I left Richard with the bags and walked to the international store. I bought a cheap porno book for 12 marks and a murder mystery, both in English. Then I found a bar and settled in. It was going to be a long night.

Literary poetry has always sort of baffled me. But I did like writing straightforward poems that rhymed. Interestingly, I found my own little masterpiece about hating work – dated 1974! I had barely started working and was already sick of it. I kept that one, too.

The poem itself is pretty awful, so I’ll spare you that. But there I was at 19, wishing I could just quit worrying about making a living and enjoying life without goals or aims. I’m giving myself props for hanging in there.

It took 40 years, but I kind of achieved my dream. No big plans. My full-time job is to take care of myself, be kind to others and enjoy life’s simple pleasures. I golf, walk, swim laps, cook, read, write, watch TV, listen to music, take care of the house, grow cannabis and otherwise goof off. While I’m not the sort to show up at a protest march, another focus is to support progressive causes.

Everyone’s vision of retirement is different. Mine has certainly evolved, even from when I started this blog two-plus years ago. As I told a friend, I might find goals within the categories of things I like to do, but I’m not out to reinvent myself or my life. I’m happy just being.

An interesting book for those who are contemplating how happiness is relevant in a world gone mad is Yes to Life: In Spite of Everything by Viktor E. Frankl.

Just published for the first time in English, the author was a Holocaust survivor who lectured on the importance of embracing life even in the face of adversity. It’s not a breezy read, but there are some genuine nuggets.

Living the dream, drinking the bleach

A piece of bench I scavenged from last year’s fire on stand-by for a yard art project.

An arachnoid presence

While you have been studying Renaissance art or harvesting yeast from the backyard, I’ve been busy doing important things like playing an epic game of Spider Solitaire.

For those who are familiar with Spider, I play with four suits and choose only games at the Grandmaster level. I have one goal – win all games. Purists will have to close their eyes, but that means I use the undo feature with wild abandon. Since adopting this approach, I have not lost a game.

My last attempt was a test of moral strength. Undo, undo, undo. Nothing I tried was working. The game automatically saves, so I’d just close it after a good butt-kicking and then go back to it the next day. I am proud to say I won it yesterday after – hold the applause please – 33 hours, 14 minutes and 23 seconds.

Spider is a good way to waste time, but I like to believe it’s also good for the brain and soul. If you believe all games are winnable, then you keep going until you win. Sometimes my original assumptions don’t hold up, and I have to abandon them for new strategies that are often counter-intuitive. Are there parallels between Spider and real life?

Yes. In the words of the Canadian philosopher, Corey Hart, Never Surrender.

More yard art, please

Now that my brain is freed up from the tyranny of Spider, I’m starting a new art project. Many of you know I’m not much of an artist, but I’ve been experimenting in retirement and boldly display my work here. I’m particularly fond of Gladys, the sun goddess I rescued from heaps of rust. Her smiling face watches over us.

I have this piece of bench from the fire a year or so ago (when all those cute firemen showed up). This is actually my neighbor’s debris that I scavenged from a pile headed for the dump. While creating beauty seems like a natural antidote for our current reality, I’m open to ugly.

This morning, I woke up thinking whatever I do with this piece of bench will somehow be an expression of my feelings about the pandemic. I have no idea what that means in terms of a deliverable, as we used to say at work, but I’m going to try and let my emotions flow.

Less whining, more wine

We drove out to our favorite Amador County winery. The tasting room isn’t open, but someone is there, and you can purchase bottles. We were only going to get six, but all wine was 40 percent off, so we doubled that. We wore masks, and they added a plastic shield over the wine bar, so it seemed like a pretty benign process.

I asked the guy who works there what phase they were in as far as opening, and he just laughed. No idea.

Golf or something like it

I’ve decided golf is reasonably safe, at least the way I do it … only courses where I can walk with my personal pushcart. I have three masks at the ready. One for the beginning, when people are waiting to tee off. One for the turn, when I use the restroom. And one for the end, when people are gathered in the parking lot. I steer clear of everyone and keep hand sanitizer in my bag.

The CDC is saying the virus isn’t easily spread through surfaces, so that’s promising. But just in case, I grabbed a stack of scorecards with a tissue and took them home to “cool off” in the garage.

I played with the women’s league last Wednesday. My favorite guy was at the cash register and asked me how things were going. I said, “Oh, you know, living the dream, drinking the bleach.” We had a good low-emission chuckle (not the bad droplet-spreading laugh).

During play, I had to ask one of my partners to back off. She looked at me with surprise, like I was making this up. She said, “Do you know anyone who has the virus?”

My response?

“No, but I’ve had cancer twice, and I know what it’s like to be sick and face death. I’m not taking any chances.”

In conclusion

I continue to be amazed by all the conspiracy theories floating around about this virus. I wonder if people believe this stuff because no one believes the news anymore, and science is for sissies.

One thing confirmed for me through this pandemic is that we are in big trouble when everything you know you read on Facebook. The anti-intellectuals seem to be winning.

I’m no stable genius, but I’m starting to think basic intelligence is my super power.  

Home is where my heart is

As a retiree and semi-recluse, the “stay at home” mandate has not been much of a problem. I don’t even have to create excuses anymore. Years ago, I might have said, “I have to wash my hair.” Now I would probably say, “I have to cut my hair.” Not so different after all.

While the weight of the pandemic hits me at odd moments and leaves me feeling sad and angry, most of the time I’m pretty chill. I don’t have a big agenda and don’t monitor my productivity. Aside from chores, I pretty much focus on the simple pleasures that make me happy … reading, walking, cooking, movies and TV.

I’ve started to play a little golf and have fielded a few invitations. This was my response to the latest:

I’m erring on the side of caution and only playing on courses I know reasonably well, where I can walk and where they have documented procedures for reduced touch points, increased social distancing, modified rules, etc. Since I haven’t played that course before, I’ll have to pass this time around. But thanks for thinking of me! I’m open to other courses.

I’ve got my cannabis plant to nurse along, and I have been doing some light handheld weights since the gym closed, but it’s not like I’m not learning to speak Swahili or alphabetizing the appliance manuals. Most of our groceries we order online for curbside pick-up, but we have started to go into the store about every two weeks. We wear masks and try to get in and out of there quickly without any close encounters of the worst kind.

In some ways I feel more peaceful, living day-to-day and trying not to think about the future. Honestly, our highest priority is food and booze, so we do have to plan ahead, but I’ve actually become fond of online shopping. We eat just about everything … nothing diet, not too much and we make almost everything from scratch.

I read where the NY Times health columnist Jane Brody treats herself to ¼ cup of light ice cream, and possibly a graham cracker, and I just can’t get that out of my head. How miserable is that?

People are itchy to go back to normal. I will go out on a limb and suggest some people have different ideas about how this virus behaves, they don’t believe it’s as bad as all that or they are willing to take their chances. Others absolutely need to get back out there and earn a living.

Even as economies open, Dale and I have decided we’re not going to be the guinea pigs. Being retired is a privilege, an earned privilege for sure, but we have the ability to stay home and will continue to do our best to ride this out in safety.

My new Scrabble mask!

Sporting my new Scrabble-themed mask as I head to the library for curbside pick-up.

Thanks to my exceptionally kind and talented sister, I am feeling quite stylish in my new Scrabble mask. I thought it would be fun to wear as I go to the library today for curbside pick-up of a book I had on reserve.

I don’t have a problem wearing a mask for my personal safety and the safety of others, and I have a hard time understanding those who do. Whatever it takes … that’s my thinking. Embrace reality and try not to disrespect the people who are trying to save us.

It seems like I’ve mentioned this before, but I will share it again. When I had cancer the first time, my chemotherapy regime was hard on the kidneys. My medical team said to drink a lot of water. So, you know what I did? I drank a lot of water.

When I talked with other women in the infusion room, I’d ask if they were drinking their water. It shocked me how many said no. One common response was, “I don’t like water.”

I wanted to scream, “This is your life! Who cares if you don’t like water?”

Anyway, pardon the commercial interruption. Be safe. May you continue to find joy in simple pleasures … even if it’s just a Scrabble mask.

Signs of a new normal?

Yes, we did snag some ground lamb at the grocery store, but the real treat was backup to the backup peanut butter for these easy and addictive cookies.

It’s definitely not business as usual where I live in northern California, but there are signs we may be able to safely enjoy some of our favorite activities as long as we accept conditions of the new normal. I love how businesses are adapting.

Golf

I played golf this week for the first time since early March. It varies from course to course, but significant changes have been made to eliminate touch points and accommodate social distancing.

My club, a modest public golf course, has done a great job on the things they can control, but I observed some sloppy behavior among the guests. I felt safe only because I took extra effort to stay safe.

Although I didn’t wear a mask while playing, I had several masks in my bag and put on a clean one whenever I approached anything resembling a crowd. I was careful to keep my distance but had to dance around my playing partners, who seemed oblivious to social distancing.

All in all, it was good day. I played well, and that surprised me. Sometimes they say a break in golf is good because you forget all the bad habits you developed. I had two birdies on the back nine! As for Dale, it was a good day for him, too. He liked having the house to himself.

Grocery Store

We went inside our favorite grocery store, which now requires that all associates and shoppers wear masks. An employee at the entrance checks for masks and wipes down a cart for you. People were well-behaved, and with some exceptions, the shelves were full. Plenty of produce and dairy but a little short on some kinds of meat. We got everything we needed.

The check-out lanes were marked to help people stay six feet apart, and there was a plastic shield between you and the cashier. Hand sanitizer stations by the doors. Unless something changes, I think we could do this every couple of weeks.

Winery

One of our favorite local wineries closed its tasting room, but you can order wine online and pick it up. They’re allowing one person in the tasting room at a time to purchase wine, or they’ll bring it to your car. Even if we can’t taste, it’s a lovely drive and will give us something to do.

Library

And yet another great innovation from the library! Prior to the lockdown, I had reserved a couple of books. One of them arrived – The Night Watchman by Louise Erdrich – and I got an email with a link, where I could make an appointment to have the book delivered to my car! Isn’t that cool?

The notice also included this message, “All materials have undergone an established waiting period and have been handled only by staff whose hands have been sanitized and who wear fabric face coverings.”

Backup to the Backup Peanut Butter

When we went to the store, I got backup peanut butter even though we already had backup peanut butter. I’m not hoarding, but I wanted to make peanut butter cookies, and the recipe calls for a cup of peanut butter. That’s actually quite a lot, and I didn’t want to raid our supply.

With the pantry fully loaded, I made the cookies. I like chocolate as much as the next person, but I lean toward anything made with brown sugar and nuts. These have got to be the easiest cookies ever, and I love them so much, I might never make them again.

We store the cookies in the freezer, so theoretically you’re not tempted. But that time is gone. Once frozen, they’re like peanut butter candy bars.

Peanut Butter Cookies

Few ingredients, easy and delicious to eat straight from the freezer.
Print Recipe

Ingredients
  

  • 1 Cup Peanut butter Not the natural kind that must be stirred … but any regular peanut butter is good, either crunchy or creamy.
  • 1 Cup Dark brown sugar My preference. White sugar or light brown sugar also works.
  • 1 Large Egg
  • Coarse sea salt Optional, but yum!

Instructions
 

  • Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
  • Beat everything together until smooth. Drop by spoon or scoop onto an ungreased parchment-lined cookie sheet. Press each cookie slightly with fork or other tool. My dough was soft and the fork press wasn’t precise, but it did the job. You can also refrigerate the unbaked cookies for 20 minutes so you get a better press. Sprinkle lightly with sea salt. Bake for about 10 minutes, until just golden. Let cool completely. They’re soft if left at room temperature but crisp up in the freezer.
  • If you must have chocolate, take three or four chocolate chips and press them into the cookie before baking. They're delicious this way, too.

The big picture is too big

On the right, my fat little jar of home-ground cinnamon.

As the pandemic wears on, I’ve been contemplating the big picture and coming to terms with the idea there is no big picture. Or if there is, it’s too big for me to figure out, so I’d rather just ignore it.

Deep thinkers and perhaps those with strong spiritual beliefs might take issue with that sentiment, but it’s the little picture that keeps me reasonably sane … taking care of my mind and body, tending to relationships and living as well as I possibly can.

I’m not sure what the future will bring, but that’s nothing new. My guess is lockdown and semi-lockdown will continue for months and months. We have enough money to get what we need, and so far, we’ve been able to get pretty much everything we need without going inside a store.

If that’s reality for the foreseeable future, we’ll call ourselves lucky. And grateful. In the meantime, I’m focusing on simple pleasures.

I’ve been walking almost every day. In fact, I just got back from a nice walk and spent much of it thinking about social distancing on the road and other pedestrian safety tips, which I will share in an upcoming post. Remind me to mention the snake!

Much of life seems to revolve around food, but then it always did. We spend a good bit of time shopping for it online, going to pick it up and preparing it. As always, different stores have different things, and we are fortunate to have multiple options. We’re buying more pantry items, so I tidied up that area, and Dale started calling me Marie, as in Kondo. He said all the little cans were dress right dress, which is a military term that refers to being parallel.

Yeah, man. Nothing like parallel cans to settle your soul.

I’m more careful not to waste food. I froze milk in two-cup portions. They say the texture changes, but I only use it for cooking anyway. We used to buy ripe avocados and eat them the same day. You probably knew this, but you can buy them firm and let them ripen on the counter. It turns out avocados keep at least a week in the refrigerator once they’re ripe. A semi-gnarly apple is greatly enhanced when microwaved with cinnamon and brown sugar. A dollop of yogurt on warm apples is delicious!

There seems to be a cinnamon shortage with all the baking going on, but I had plenty of sticks, so I let them roll around in a dry frying pan on low heat to get some of the moisture out and then buzzed them up in a coffee grinder we reserve for spices. I added a smidgen of brown sugar because I read somewhere it helps the process along.

Oh, and you can freeze parsley and cilantro.

I wash the herbs well and spread them out on a bath towel, so as not to squander my precious paper towels. I pat the herbs dry and remove any thick stems. Divvy them up into smaller portions, put them in a zip lock, label and freeze. The texture changes a bit, so you might not have a pretty garnish, but the taste is great.

For dinner one night I made baguettes, and we just allow them to be the star of the show with good olive oil, brie and Italian cold cuts. I tossed fresh spinach with vinegar and sea salt and had that on the side.

Dale periodically freezes raw scraps of veal, pork and beef that are left over from other dishes, and yesterday he used the Kitchen Aid with the grinder attachment to turn the scraps into meatballs. We had spaghetti and meatballs, and they were the best meatballs I’ve ever had. We were going to have leftover baguettes on the side, but someone ate them all!

Tonight’s dinner is Chiapas pork from the freezer. Dale made it a month or two ago, and we had tons of leftovers. It’s basically a pork shoulder marinated, spiced and cooked in the oven until falling apart in a puddle of delicious sauce. To go with, we have fresh shredded romaine lettuce, sliced onion and homemade blue corn tortillas. We eat them like tacos.  

I did a little yard work, my least favorite simple pleasure, but the weather is lovely, and I guess it wasn’t so bad. The air quality is amazing with so many cars off the road.

Fun and games

Of course, we’re both in a funk of sorts. I had a meltdown about a week ago and have since felt reasonably calm and content. It was during the meltdown I said, “I’m just gonna go outside and ask people to spit on me.” I call that my rock bottom, and it has been nothing but up since.

Dale doesn’t do meltdowns, but I would say his low point was after we got back from the grocery store, because that was his happy place, and it’s not anymore. It also turns out Dale is much more extroverted than I am. He misses even the smallest interactions with clerks and neighbors.

We’ve talked through it, not without pain mind you, but we’re still a unit, committed to getting through this healthy, happy and together. I read about relationships being stressed right now, and my favorite line was something like this:

Don’t search for the perfect partner. Try to be the perfect partner.

I could tell Dale needed some comfort food and suggested burgers. We have everything for that, and he jumped right on it. We’re taking an indulgence break and will have burgers tonight. Then it’s back to broccoli on Friday.

We talked about playing board games, and I did an inventory of our toy chest:

  • Risk
  • Monopoly
  • Othello
  • Scrabble
  • Yahtzee
  • Backgammon
  • Dominoes
  • Pente
  • Cribbage

Most of these have been sitting idle for some time. This might be the 70s talking, but I don’t remember anything about Othello or Pente. Dale doesn’t like Scrabble or Yahtzee, my two favorites, so we’re going to start with backgammon. We used to play a lot and have a beautiful board we bought in Egypt. We’ll need to brush up on the rules.

We both used to like cribbage, but his mother was a fanatic, and we both got burned out on it during one of her visits many years ago. Perhaps enough time has passed that we can try it again.

Other unexpected items that showed up in the toy chest during my inventory include:

  • German flag
  • Survival cards
  • Mexican game with cup and ball on a string
  • Multiple decks of playing cards
  • Phantom of the Opera mask
  • Latin dictionary
  • Arabic at a glance
  • English-French dictionary
  • Eisenhower postage stamps

How about you? Are you playing any games while in confinement? What’s in your toy chest?

Redefining busy

The weather in northern California was beautiful this week. We get a great view of the sunrise from our backyard. In the forefront is Gladys, my yard art project from last year.
The final trim and weigh-in of my first homegrown cannabis plant.

This week felt busy to me, like my dance card was full, but then my definition of busy is evolving as I enter my third year of retirement.

Monday

Golf. Walked 18 holes. In the evenings, I watched a lot of Outlander, which is not unlike golf. One bad thing after another. You think you’re done, but you go back to see what happens next. Dale sautéed sole filets for dinner, and I made a big salad topped with candied walnuts and crumbled goat cheese.

Tuesday

House elf. Vacuumed, mopped, etc. while a contractor was refinishing the tub in our guest bath. Dale made a commissary run (like Costco for military retirees). I defrosted homemade soup for lunch. Red lentil, chickpea and spinach curry with a dollop of sumac-seasoned yogurt. When Dale returned, I went to the fitness club to swim laps and do weights. That soup talked back! Dale made barbecued beef ribs and marinated cucumbers for dinner.

Wednesday

Golf. Walked 18 holes. I took a different route to the golf course without using my smart phone map because Dale insists variety and getting there without help is good for my brain.

Finished trimming my home-grown cannabis, weighed it and put it in a jar to cure for two weeks. My yield was about 1/3 ounce or 10 grams. The cheapest weed I can buy at the dispensary is $320 per ounce. Mine was about $265 per ounce. I’m confident I can do better next time with a bigger pot and warmer weather.

For dinner, we split a small Marie Callender’s frozen pot pie. We each get a handful of fried crinkle cuts from the freezer to go with. What can I say? It’s our shameful processed food indulgence.

Thursday

Dentist. I go three times a year for cleaning because I lost the genetic lottery. The hygienist said “alignment issues” mean I have to work harder than most people to keep my teeth and gums in good shape. That should be on my tombstone, “She Tried Hard.” I use a water flosser and regular floss and an electric toothbrush – and that just barely gets me in the door.

Golf lesson. The guy I used to take lessons from had unrealistic expectations about what my body could do. My new teacher is a petite woman who understands a sharp short game makes up for what we lack in strength. She taught me a different way to use my wedge around the greens. Stopped at the fitness club to swim laps and do weights. Dale made whole roasted chicken and smashed potatoes for dinner. I steamed broccoli to go with.

Friday

Monthly 90-minute massage. When I got home, Dale was waiting to see if I wanted supermarket sushi for lunch. What a guy! Off we went to the market for pizza ingredients and sushi, which we enjoyed out on the patio. It was a beautiful day.

We spent the rest of the afternoon doing yard work. I have a collapsible golf net in the back, so after I mowed our little patch of lawn, I set up the net and practiced my new wedge shot. Dale made pizza for dinner. Kitchen sink, as we call this version, with mushrooms, fresh garlic, green peppers, Kalamata olives, pepperoni and Italian sausage.

Wrap-Up

Dale did most of the cooking. When I was working, he was always the main chef. In retirement, I started cooking more and voicing more opinions about what we eat. It has been kind of a struggle to renegotiate our new roles.  

Normally, I like to get it all out in the open, but I’m learning not everything needs to be said. Without introduction or fanfare, I’ve started to focus more on special things I like to cook and leaving most dinners to Dale. He probably wouldn’t acknowledge this, which is why we’re not telling him, OK? But with me having been the principal money earner, I think he liked being the provider, at least the provider of dinner.

My dastardly plan seems to be working. I’m still cooking, but I’m finding my niche. Dale enjoys feeding me, and I enjoy being fed. We’re both mellower, and I have more time to goof off!