Category: Simple Pleasures

Born to retire

Well, it isn’t Rambling Thursday, but I guess I’ll ramble a bit anyway. The photos should give you a hint. We’ve both been baking. More on that in a few.

NY Times Subscription

First, I finally subscribed to the The New York Times online. There’s a deep discount right now – $4 a month for a year. Then it goes up to $15 a month. I made a note in my calendar for next year, so I either cancel or re-subscribe, but the price doesn’t shock me.

I made kind of a mess of this whole thing. I used to subscribe and then canceled in a cost-cutting move. I started using the free access code I shared earlier. Then I got seduced by the puzzles and subscribed to the puzzles only. But then I got booted out of the free code offer, since they now considered me a subscriber.

In the end, it’s all good. As a journalism major and concerned clinically depressed citizen, I appreciate the work they do, and I know it doesn’t come free. I also like the The Washington Post, and both newspapers are doing a good job keeping tabs on Trump.

By the way, I’m not really clinically depressed. I have PTSD … Post Trump Stress Disorder.

Island of the Sea Women

I finished Island of the Sea Women by Lisa See. It’s about the friendship between two women who live on Jeju Island in Korea, where historically women were the breadwinners free diving for urchin, octopus and other treasures. The book starts just before World War II and finishes up in modern times. The story is compelling, and I learned a lot about Korean history, which is quite tragic. Of course, I cried at the end.

Two of my other favorites by Lisa See are The Tea Girl of Hummingbird Lane and Snow Flower and the Secret Fan.

Throwing money at the plumber

The toilets were installed today, and they look great! The cost was almost as much as the toilets themselves, but this was money spent in the interest of relationship preservation. Dale and Donna installing toilets together? Nothing good can come of that.

I did a pre-clean so the plumber wouldn’t be grossed out. The toilets are Dale’s job, and let’s just say he needs a performance improvement plan. He doesn’t scrub under the rim. Or if he does, it’s a minimal effort at best. Since we have brand-new toilets, I asked him to take more care when he cleans, and he did not appreciate my developmental feedback.

This seemed like a good opportunity to buy new toilet bowl brushes, and I learned something new on Wirecutter. You’re supposed to replace them every few months. I went with their recommendation, the Oxo Good Grips Compact Toilet Brush and Canister. One for each bathroom, so Dale doesn’t drip stuff all over as he is wont to do.

The brush heads are replaceable. I replace our toothbrush heads quarterly, so I guess I’ll replace the toilet bowl brushes at the same time. That should be plenty. I mean, previously it was every five or 10 years or maybe never, so anything is an improvement.

Baking

I made raspberry scones from the blueberry scone recipe at Retired Introvert. They look yummy, although I was probably a little over-zealous with the raspberries. Something about a single cup. So sad and tiny. Clearly, the raspberries needed more raspberries for company.

The blueberry scones I made earlier went into the freezer, and it was so nice to have those little goodies at hand. One minute in the microwave at 50 percent power and they were perfect! We gobbled those up, so I thought I’d try raspberry … Dale’s favorite. What is it they used to say at work? Three positives to a negative when giving feedback? Maybe the scones will get his scrubber moving.

Dale made rosemary olive bread, which was out of this world delicious. A big rise made it perfect for the sandwiches we made with leftover grilled lamb, goat cheese and arugula tossed lightly with olive oil and balsamic vinegar.

Oysters

Our oyster lunch last week was profoundly disappointing. The oysters hadn’t gone bad or anything, but they didn’t taste fresh from the sea. And the shucker basically destroyed them. The Bloodies were pretty good, so there was that. To recover, we decided to do an overnight trip to Tomales Bay, where the oysters are splendid. That’s next week, and we’re excited.

Labor Day

I guess this weekend is Labor Day. It’s hard to keep track when every day is a vacation! I am so happy I don’t have to mess with a job anymore. And I’m still in shock we pulled it off financially. Although I was quite dedicated and had a good career, I don’t think I was born to work.

Reading, writing, golf, hiking, cooking, taking care of our nest … I spend most of my time these days focusing on simple pleasures.

Maybe born to retire?

Summertime and the preserved radish is jumping

Maybe this post should be titled, “How I spent my summer vacation.” But preserved radish is on my mind.

I’ve been watching the Deadwood series free on Amazon Prime. I loved it, but the series ended abruptly, leaving me between books and stuck with a lackluster watchlist. I settled on the old Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, Flower Drum Song. I was astonished to discover I knew most of the songs.

old Movies

The movie is dated, and I suspect the Asian community would find it a stereotypical caricature at best. I originally thought it was an all-Asian cast, but I recognized Madame Liang as the same person who played Bloody Mary in South Pacific. Turns out she was African-American. The music and dancing was a great escape that kept me from brooding about the state of the nation as I drifted off to sleep thanking God I am not Trump’s type.

art

My art endeavors have taken a back seat since we transitioned to summer. I’ve been spending more time golfing and swimming. Maybe art will be a seasonal thing for me? Dale always said I needed a winter sport to get through the dark, cold and wet months. As if making pot pie is not a sport.

reading

In theory, I’m reading a history of the California Gold Rush, but I’ve had to accept a harsh truth. I prefer historical fiction. I’m not proud, but there you have it. I like rollicking stories loosely based on fact, which should put me in good stead with the current administration.

golf

Golf is my little crack cocaine of hobbies. Although I am in a women’s golf group, it’s quite regimented, and I’ve discovered I often prefer going out by myself. It feels more like an adventure. Like, ooh, look at me, I’m exploring this lush landscaped universe with strangers and a ball – who knows what will happen? As opposed to, “Ladies, there is an 8 a.m. shotgun start, and all players will be in place at that time.” Way to spoil a party.

cooking

Meanwhile, I’m thinking about food. We both love to eat, but more importantly, we both love to cook, which is a great retirement hobby. You have time to explore recipes and shop for ingredients. You can squander an afternoon making an obscure dish from your travels. You will likely eat well, save money and improve your health.

After enjoying a particular food in the U.S. or overseas, Dale and I often figure out a way to make the recipe at home. Among successes that regularly appear on our table are schnitzel from Germany, stacked enchiladas from New Mexico and Greek salad from Crete.

The Greek salad we enjoyed in Crete is different than what you might typically get in a restaurant. You need summer tomatoes, which we have yet to see this year. Do you have any yet? Soon, I believe. When they come on, we will be ready. Tomato sandwiches! Tomato pie!

As for the salad, coarsely chop tomatoes, cucumber and onion and arrange on a plate. Top it with a hunk of feta cheese, sprinkle with oregano and garnish with Kalamata olives. Serve olive oil and red wine vinegar on the side so everyone pours their own over the salad. Don’t forget crusty homemade bread for dipping.

I’m gearing up for a couple of dishes that are on the waiting list to try. One would be Shrimp & Grits and the other is Pad Thai. I bought stone-ground grits and made jalapeno cheese grits as a trial run – figuring why waste shrimp until I know what I am doing? Good thing, because my grits were too thin. Grits, damn you, life was easier when I thought you were cream of wheat.

The Pad Thai is a new recipe from the Washington Post. I ventured off to the exotic food store for ingredients we didn’t already have. For us, that store would be 99 Ranch Market, which is truly amazing. It’s like a Viewer’s Choice Chopped basket gone wild.

I visited 99 Ranch on Sunday. I’m still in the hunting and gathering stage for Pad Thai, so I didn’t buy any fresh ingredients for the dish. My list included:

  • Rice noodles
  • Palm sugar
  • Dried shrimp
  • Sweet preserved radish
  • Tamarind concentrate

The only thing I couldn’t find is sweet preserved radish. I could make the recipe without it, but what fun is that? I spent forever in the store looking for the radish. Dale, proud Luddite, even charged up his phone to see if I would call home … that’s how long I was gone. I came up empty-handed.

Easy solution. When I got home, I ordered it from Amazon. It should get here today.

How’s your summer going?

A typical day of retirement

An actual LinkedIn conversation:

Hey, Donna, how are you? It’s great connecting with you. I came across your profile, and it was very impressive to me. If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you do for a living currently?

Stephanie

Hi Stephanie,

I am retired. I mostly read, write, cook, play golf, hike and putz around in the garage making art (or something like it).

Thanks for your inquiry,

Donna

Hi Donna,

Nice! I’m a business owner expanding in the area. I’m looking for like-minded individuals who are wealth-building focused or extra income could help.

Are you looking for an opportunity to make extra income?

Stephanie

Hi Stephanie,

No, thank you. I appreciate your interest.

Donna

As I have said many times, I would go back to work if I had to for financial reasons or if something struck a passion. In the meantime, school’s out for summer!

Here’s how I spent yesterday, an ordinary Friday. Proof you don’t have to travel the world or spend a fortune to enjoy retired life (unless you want to).

  • Scanned the news and did the NY Times mini puzzle in bed. Got up around 7 a.m.
  • Breakfast of fresh strawberries, yogurt and homemade granola. Coffee and juice. Newspaper.
  • Computer time.
  • Scrubbed the shower.
  • Wiped down the plantation shutters upstairs.
  • Walked for an hour.
  • Had Dale videotape me from behind whilst swinging a club and wearing my new golf skort to ensure no butt exposure. There was more exposure than I intended, but I’m going with it anyway!
  • Practiced putting on the putting mat out in the garage.
  • Brushed the kitty. Fur bombs everywhere.
  • Got a new Indian Instant Pot cookbook from the library the day before and began to compare and contrast recipes from the Indian Instant Pot cookbook I already own. Discovered you can cook rice at the same time as the main dish if you have the right tools, so spent some time researching on Amazon.
  • Accompanied Dale to the market to buy cheese for the evening’s menu and sushi for my lunch.
  • Watched several hours of U.S. Open golf tournament. Repeated, “Phil, you fucking idiot” many times. Had supermarket sushi and a light beer for lunch on a TV tray while I watched the Open.
  • Did my upper body weight routine.
  • Swam in our pool for about 20 minutes. Bobbed around for a while. Dried out under the sun and then came in to get cleaned up for happy hour.
  • Watched more golf and then helped Dale with dinner – pizza on the outside pizza oven.
  • Opened a bottle of Zinfandel we buy at a local winery for $7 a bottle.
  • Listened to some music while we enjoyed pizza on the patio. Dug into the vinyl vault for Kansas (because we love Dust in the Wind) and a little Clash because you can’t go wrong there.
  • Went to bed early. Like 8:30 or so. It was a cool night, so the windows were open.

Just another day of retirement! Work? Not missing it.

Ugly shoes and lazy entertainment

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I worked for a gas and electric utility and was in charge of planning a year-long celebration of the company’s 150th anniversary. My boss’s boss was something of a terror and legend, and we were summoned to brief her on our progress.

I had this fat binder with notes, plans, drafts – all organized with plastic tabs. These were pre-technology days, at least for me.

The boss and I sat in big boss’s big office at the top of our high-rise, where she fired question after question. I flicked through tabs and answered every inquiry. I knew my shit, and I was en fuego. My boss looked pleased.

Then big boss paused. Took a deep breath and looked down at my feet. “Donna,” she said, “Wherever did you get those ugly shoes?”

I mumbled something about them being in style, but of course, they weren’t. I’ve always had a penchant for ugly shoes. Thick soles! Chunky heels! Oxfords! Clogs! Man repellers.

And so it would appear in retirement, I haven’t lost my touch. I usually wear Crocs or Birkenstocks around the house. The rest of my shoe wardrobe is pretty much more Birkenstocks and Keen. 

Although I’m stingy with my retirement dollars, I shelled out $50 for the Hoka Recovery Slide. These things are heavenly, especially after a really long walk. Better arch support than my Birkies and just super comfortable all around. It actually never occurred to me they were ugly until Dale said something.

Yeah, OK, they’re ugly. The thing is, he knows I don’t care. And really, he doesn’t care either. Just an opinion, like so many others, he feels the need to share … and I feel compelled to ignore.

Lazy Entertainment

While I do get plenty of exercise, I also enjoy lazy retirement entertainment. I just started watching the original Deadwood series, which is free on Amazon Prime. I’m hooked on it now, although South Dakota in 1876 was dark, violent and lawless. I like to think the universe led me to this show so I could compare and contrast and realize things today aren’t as bad as they seem.

I started watching Deadwood because I heard about the new HBO movie and wanted to see the original before I went down that path. I also heard some cast members playing songs on Sirius Outlaw Country. The song Katie Cruel sung by Karen Dalton absolutely blew me away.

Dale started watching a YouTube channel called AvE, in which a foul-mouthed Canadian tears apart electronics to see if they’re worthy. I got sucked in because I could hear Dale snorting over there, and well, you know, he had me at snort. It doesn’t seem like anything I would care for – I know nothing about electronics – but the guy is hilarious.

Oh, and Tanya Harding won Worst Cooks in America: Celebrity Edition. She seemed vulnerable and likable, and I am happy for her. May there be redemption for us all.

Fire in the belly?

Although I occasionally snark about politics, I haven’t written what I would call a well-reasoned thought piece on current events. I grumble with the morning news, but then I let it go. All that bullshit is in a hot air balloon … I’ve cut the cord, and it’s floating away. I can’t reach it …

I’ve always felt a responsibility to speak out and lived much of my life fired up about every little thing. My contributions are small, but I served in the military, I vote, donate to good causes and even marched for equal rights a time or two. Oh, and writing letters to the editor about anything and everything was practically a part-time job.

Since I retired, it seems I have no fire in the belly. I’m not sure the fire is out completely, but retirement has certainly doused the flames.

I am enjoying simple pleasures. Food, books, the outdoors, art, love, sleep. This may be indulgent, but it’s fantastic to live life as I want and not be fucked with. Granted, in the cosmic sense, we’re all being fucked with, but I am profoundly grateful for my day-to-day life.

For some people, retirement is an opportunity to become more opinionated, and I admire them. That could still be an option for me as well. While I love my life, sometimes I feel kind of bad I don’t take a more active role in the topics of the day … unless the topic is dinner.

Maybe I just need more time to decompress from working, and the fire will return (if I even want it to return). As for political activism or at least civic consciousness, I suspect a lot of us go back and forth over the course of our lives. We all want to be responsible citizens, and sometimes we speak up, but sometimes there’s nothing we can add to the conversation.

I was probably a better writer when I was fired up. Now it appears I’m too damned happy to write compelling prose. But the truth is priorities can shift as we age. I rather like the absence of hormones and raw emotions, and if that’s what fueled good writing, good riddance.

Still, I enjoy sharing stories about retirement and the tail end of our journey through life. And I hope I’m a living example that aging isn’t bad – getting older can be the best experience ever. After two bouts of cancer and other unwelcome drama, I’m here for the party.

While I sometimes doubt myself, I am hopeful this blog will evolve as I evolve and that what I have to say will resonate. Cut myself some slack for chilling out a bit. All I know is happiness, for me, was a long climb up, and I’m hanging on tight.

How’s the fire in your belly?

The purpose of ripe strawberries

The strawberries are finally here! I’m such a fruit snob and always struggle with what fruits to eat over the winter months. While there are plenty of choices, this year I ate frozen blueberries with my homemade granola and yogurt. The berries were delicious and predictable. Oh, the disappointment of unripe fruit.

To keep strawberries fresh, I learned a little trick from a vendor at the farmers market. Line a rectangular tub with a paper towel. Lay the unwashed strawberries in a single layer over the bottom and cover with another paper towel. Store in the fruit/vegetable bin in the refrigerator. Mine last the entire week.

The joy of ripe strawberries! Such a simple pleasure, but lately I’ve come to believe that’s what it’s all about. Advice columnist Carolyn Hax recently wrote a column about purpose, suggesting it’s OK to not have one. She talks about the pleasure of coffee and the satisfaction of completing a chore.

These are tiny pleasures. Connecting one to another to another across a day might not feel grandly productive, but the constellation it creates is pleasant enough to behold.

I’ve been slouching toward purposelessness since I retired, but sometimes I’ve wondered whether I was moving in the right direction. Realizing others are seeking the same path helped validate my own experiences. Such a relief to realize we don’t have to beat ourselves up forever.

My purposeless life is brimming with pleasurable hobbies and satisfying activities. I made a list, which is in no particular order because that would be too purposeful.

  • Golf – Practice & Play
  • Cook
  • Arts & Crafts
  • Walk & Lift Weights
  • Read
  • Write
  • Yard work
  • Housework
  • Home Maintenance & Repair

I estimated the number of hours a week ideally dedicated to these activities. It added up to exactly 40! So there you have it. Being purposeless is a full-time job.

Happy cats

I hope you didn’t somehow land on this blog expecting exciting travelogues and other adventures. You might find my retired life rather dull. Deliciously boring (but not bored). This, too, could be yours! For some of us, our work life was intense, and it’s fun to just hang out and be happy cats.

Although we have enough money for the occasional trip, we’re not big travelers anymore. We moved more than 20 times for jobs. We lived in Germany for six years and Cairo for 2.5 years. There are plenty of places we’ve never been, but we were avid tourists back in the day and saw a lot of the U.S. and the world. Still, I expect some sort of adventure in my future.

I was thinking about how much I like my boring life, much as I used to like boring politics, when a couple of former colleagues shared a bit of work news with me. That got me thinking about my old job and questioning my decisions. Did I bail out too early?

The answer is no. While I had a rewarding career and was rather obsessed with my job for many years, toward the end, the workplace and all the nonsense that goes on there didn’t seem worth the trade of time for money. I wanted to live differently.  

I pulled the plug at age 62 – not exactly early retirement – and went in search of myself. What sparked intense curiosity? What made me happy? It would have been easier to keep working and never face down my essence. At least you get paid to avoid self-reflection. Just keep slogging along and buying more stuff and taking expensive vacations so you have to keep slogging along.

Since I retired, I’ve learned a lot about what I need and don’t need, mostly from the comfort of my living room. My hair is wild. I have one or two outfits I wash and wear over and over. I’m slowly discovering what gets me up in the morning. Aside from golf and nice long walks, I’m excited about food. We cook almost everything from scratch, and it’s tremendously satisfying. I have intense curiosity about dinner. And possibly sourdough, the next frontier.

I’m keenly interested in crafting techniques I can learn to enhance my obsession with coasters. I love to walk to the library and browse the shelves and think, “What might I want to learn about today?” I rather like the idea of picking some crazy new subject and immersing myself in it. Being an expert at something appeals to me. There’s still time.

Yet, I wonder if I’m wasting my life … that old programming that says produce, produce, produce. These are the same doubts I had when I was working – but now the stress is gone, and I’m doing things that make me happy. All other things being equal, doubt will always be there, but retirement wins.

Retirement can be whatever you want it to be. I prefer mostly uneventful days, but you might seek more action. Find your happy place and go there. As for me, I like to pretend I’m an eccentric Bohemian heiress (perhaps a bit reclusive and frugal) who spends her life dabbling in things that amuse her. And you know what? I look forward to every single day.

Diversifying your portfolio of fun

Following my fall from last week, the good news is my chin looks fabulous (if chins ever look fabulous). The stitches are out, and it’s almost healed. Doesn’t look like I will have a scar. The bad news is a few ribs took some of the impact, so I’m not able to play golf. I am grateful nonetheless. In the grand scheme of things, this is a tiny nuisance.

It rained today, and for some reason, if I can’t play golf, I’m always happier if no one is playing golf.

From the outset, one of my retirement strategies was to balance my activities and focus on building both physical and intellectual reserves. Think of it as diversifying your portfolio, except this is about fun not money. Not that money can’t be fun.

Reading, writing, cooking and artistic pursuits counterbalance golf and other outdoor fun. I figured at some point I would be reminded you can’t have it all. Being down for the count after my accident seems to validate my strategy. I’m annoyed I can’t play golf, but I have plenty to keep me amused at home.

I made a batch of no-knead bread. I’ve been experimenting with the technique, and I love it! The dough rises for at least 18 hours. We keep our home pretty cool, so it has taken more like 24 for mine. I noticed today’s batch had a better rise, as it has gotten a bit warmer. To get me started, I got Jim Lahey’s book from the library.

The book is great, but I probably won’t buy it. I’ve made it a few times now, and there are tons of free recipes for no-knead bread on the Internet, so I think I’ll make do with what I have. One more cookbook might make our whole house implode, and no one wants that.

The rest of the afternoon I hung out in the garage making coasters and listening to Amy Winehouse. The garage is exactly the same as the shower … I sound just like her. A super-pleasant afternoon.

As for the coasters, I have no idea what I am going to do with them. Some will be gifts. I just keep making them. The process relaxes me, and I feel happy as I’m out there puttering away.

I’m currently on a drink theme. They are coasters, right? I’m giving myself permission to go with whatever my brain comes up with. I’m not allowing that nasty bitch masquerading as my inner voice to stop me with her harsh criticism. My current approach is fake Shakespearean advice. I uploaded two new ones to the gallery:

  • Quench thy thirst with a pure and earnest alchemy of barley, hops, water, and yeast.
  • Behold the gift of fermentation, and seek ye the merry pleasure of beer, wine, and cheese.

A note for word nerds. Over the course of my entire career in corporate communications, we used the AP Style guide for grammar and punctuation. I adopted AP Style for my personal use, because I figured at least I’d be consistent. Even personal emails, letters to my mother. It’s a sickness.

In AP Style, one does not use the Oxford comma. That’s the last comma in a series such as beer, wine, and cheese. You will notice I used the Oxford comma. A hundred little communicators just dropped over. I decided the Oxford fit better with this style. So, guess what, AP Style? I’m over you.

One last punctuation nit. This is how I’m wired. There’s a comma after fermentation in the sentence above, “Behold the gift of fermentation, and seek ye the merry pleasure of beer, wine, and cheese.” That’s because they are independent clauses. The two parts can stand on their own, so they should be separated with a comma.

I forgot to add the comma when I made the tile. I know, big deal, but I do plan to fix it next time around. I guess that means I still have a ways to go when it comes to balance, but you know, baby steps.

Simple needs, easily met

Tuesday is my favorite day of the week because it’s Chopped night on TV. I could watch it for hours. OK, I do watch it for hours.

I’m kind of a complicated person, and I’ve often joked my goal is simple needs, easily met. Sadly, I’m usually all about complex needs that are difficult to meet. Cooking in retirement puts me closer to my goal.

The slab pies continue to fascinate. I wrote author Cathy Barrow asking about reducing the size, and she said the recipes aren’t designed for round pies. She uses 1/4 sheet pans. I happened to notice 1/8 sheet pans do exist, and she agreed they would be perfect for her pies. Either cut the recipe in half and make one, or make two and freeze one.

I got my 1/8 sheet pans in the mail yesterday, and I’m at it again. This time it’s Cowboy Beef Stew Slab Pie with lard crust. I guess the “cowboy” comes from Ancho chili powder and coffee. Not that lard is a health food, but it’s not as bad as you think.

So many things to love about retirement, but cooking has to be among my favorites. I have more time to pay attention to what’s going on in the world, and it seems to me the world has gone crazy. The kitchen is my shelter from the storm. Something about chopping, mixing, weighing, baking, roasting, stirring and browning mellows me out. Plus, we eat well!

It’s a good thing my other favorite hobbies involve exercise.

I’ll try not to beat the slab pie drum again, but I did want to share an update about downsizing. The author provides metric weights for all ingredients, and I’ve found that to be super-helpful for cutting the recipes in half.

For example, the full recipe calls for 1/4 cup or 30 grams of all-purpose flour. I don’t have an 1/8 cup measure, but our digital scale does metric, so I just weigh 15 grams. Most of the crust recipes include versions for both one and two-crust pies, and the one-crust recipe is perfect for a two-crust pie made in a 1/8 sheet pan. Wow, say that fast three times in a row.

Cathy also tells you what steps can be completed in advance. I made the crust today – the dough rests in the refrigerator overnight. I also made the filling, as her pies call for chilled crust and chilled filling. The filling will also rest in the refrigerator overnight. Tomorrow, all I have to do is roll out dough and make pie! Splitting up tasks is also easier on the dishwasher.

The weather is cold by California standards, certainly by my standards, and it’s supposed to rain hard tomorrow. Crusty beefy pie sounds perfect to me.

Dale’s on tap to cook this evening. He’s making a breaded pork cutlet known at our house as Schnitzel on a Stick. It’s basically a pounded-out pork schnitzel made from a bone-in chop. Side dishes are steamed spinach and maybe some pan-fried potatoes (bratkartoffeln).

To drink? Dale just loaded the kegerator with Mirror Pond Pale Ale from Deschutes Brewery.

All that and Chopped. Clean jammies. A cozy fire. Perhaps a cat in the lap. Did I say simple needs, easily met?

Pink sky at morning

Red sky at night, sailors’ delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Does anyone know what pink sky at morning means? It has been cold by my puny standards, and rain is on the way. Wusses take warning?

I was all jammied up when I went out to the backyard to take this picture of sunrise over the Sierra foothills. Something about a pink sky makes me happy … particularly happy to be retired with nothing on the agenda and a full pot of coffee on the counter.

Dale and I jokingly call it “California Cold.” That means anything below 50. I had to force myself to go out for my long walks this week, so I over-bundled, which is my signature winter style. When we go out, Dale and I look like we’re dressed for different hemispheres.

Yesterday I played my first round of golf in 2019. It was in the high 30s when we were scheduled to start. Yikes! I was wearing so many layers it was amazing I could even hit the ball. But it warmed up nicely, and we had a great time out there.

I don’t make resolutions, but I had given thought to focusing more on my social game. There was a frost delay, so I chatted up some of the other players while we stayed warm in the clubhouse and mentioned my New Year’s resolution was to party more. That got some laughs and cheers.

Just saying, but it seems like the popular girls wanted to hang out with me after that. I learned one of my playing partners has a husband who grows pot! She’s going to bring me a little jar of bud, and I’m going to bring her a little jar of my homemade cannabis balm. A gift exchange! Dale thought that was hilarious. I mean, we’re still shocked you can go out in the backyard to smoke a joint, and no one can call the police.

My more relaxed attitude certainly helped my golf game. I had two birdies and a chip-in par for a grand total of 88. My best score ever is 84, and that was several years ago. I’m essentially a bogey golfer, which is fine, but I would like to improve, and who knows? With a little more partying, I might just do that. I have a golf buddy in Georgia who enjoys her rounds with a Bloody Mary in tow.

I’m not sure if it’s the weather or what, but my sciatica has been acting up, along with my right wrist, which I broke several years ago. I’ve been making sure to brave the cold and keep walking, using the cannabis balm twice daily and sleeping with a brace on my wrist. Seems to be working!

Oh. A word about the cannabis bath salts. I got the water super hot for my first bath and soaked 30 minutes or so. I felt remarkably pain-free that evening. But the next bath wasn’t as hot, and I’m also wondering if my cannabis-infused oil wasn’t evenly distributed, because I didn’t feel much. Two baths use 1/4 cup of infused oil. That’s kind of a lot, which sort of hints that it has great potential, but for now I prefer to use the topical balm I make with infused oil and beeswax.

I will say my aches and pain improved dramatically after I retired. That 2.5-hour commute on the bus to what was basically a desk job did nothing for my body. I don’t even complain too much about housework, because I figure it’s good for me.

For the record, I have attempted to lure Dale into the Housework-is-Healthy-and-Fun club, but he continues to resist. Although full credit due – he loads a mean dishwasher.