Category: Simple Pleasures

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.

Playing in the rain

When I was 14, my friend, Susie, invited a few of us for a sleepover on Friday night. Her backyard was an avocado grove that sloped to a drainage ditch we called the La Branca. It had rained heavily that evening, so the next day we took Styrofoam boogie boards and rode them down into the ditch, where we happily paddled downstream.

Of course, it was dangerous. I can hardly believe I did it, and now I envision being sucked into the sewer or wherever that little ditch goes. My mother was horrified. I remember her telling my dad, “Donna played in a ditch Saturday morning.”

In recent years, I’ve been pretty tame. I avoid bad weather and hunker down inside. Until today.

We have a regular Tuesday golf group and most canceled because of anticipated rain. I was the first one to arrive at the golf course, and it was deserted. I approached the clerk and said I was going to brave it and see if I could play 18, but I could always get a rain check, right? He said they don’t do rain checks. I did not get mean or swear, but I did say that was a ridiculous racket.

He got nice after that and said we could go whenever the rest of the group arrived. No need to wait for our tee times. This was about 9:30 a.m., and my tee time was 10:04. It was sprinkling off and on, but the big rain was expected around 12:30 p.m. I putted a little bit and checked my emails. Two more had canceled. I thought, I could wait around another 30 minutes and be the only one here. I’m going for it.

I asked the guy in the shop if I could go out alone, and he said sure, he’d tell anyone in my group who showed up I got an early start to try and beat the rain. Rain, you can’t stop me! I was dressed in multiple layers with a rain jacket over it all. And a good hat.

Not that golf is dangerous in the rain unless there’s lightening, but it’s kind of a mess. I’ve been sort of a fair weather golfer lately, but I was ready to begin the adventure. I usually walk, and I considered taking a cart, but I figured wet is wet. A cart won’t save me, and my pull cart has an umbrella.

It was so much fun. I had the course to myself, and I felt like a kid again. It did get pretty wet out there, but I managed to walk 18 holes in three hours … before the big deluge. As I walked up to the golf shop, I saw the rest of the group. Just three brave souls. They quit at the turn, where they were happy to see the club house, and we decided gather inside for a bite to eat.

And that was my only mistake. Sitting there for an hour in wet clothes gave me a chill. On the way home, I put the car heater on high and heated up my seat, too. I really didn’t warm up until I got home and took off those wet clothes. My golf junk is soaked and drying out in the garage.

But it was fun! If I weren’t retired, I might have felt ripped off, but I have plenty of time, and I like to stay active. That said, as I’ve gotten older, I’m pickier about enjoying the outdoors in less than ideal conditions.

I’ve come to think whatever your sport, whatever your weather, if you’re properly dressed, a little nastiness won’t hurt you. What do you think? Ride it out inside or go for it? For me, it was just plain fun, and in the future, I will be more open to getting outside when it’s wet.

But super cold weather? Let’s sit by the fire and talk about that for awhile.

Can you still call it a vacation?

 

Miss me? I spent almost a week in the Atlanta area playing golf with a group of women I met nearly 20 years ago. We are older and not without our share of medical maladies, but we still love the game and had a great time socializing over drinks and snacks after a long day on the course.

We are mostly in our 60s – the youngest 59 and the oldest maybe 72? I’m not sure. We are also mostly retired, although some volunteer, and those jobs sound way too much like work to me. There was lively political conversation, me being the only left coast representative but not the only liberal. There were a few who voted for Trump, but we managed to get through it without fisticuffs. Wine helped.

I was surprised by the cornucopia of shit gone wrong. Among us we had breast cancer, ovarian cancer, rheumatoid arthritis, lupus, alopecia and a 7-pound abdominal tumor. My friend with the abdominal tumor has a scar that rivals mine – I know because we looked. Twice. She was pleased to see it goes from kind of an outie to an innie after 18 years. I said if you squint, it looks like six-pack abs.

Sadly, I did not take cannabis. For my knees and other inflammation-related issues, I substituted with Penetrex with Arnica, and it worked great. However, my post-mastectomy pain is neurological, and Penetrex doesn’t touch that. I also have a weird neurological thing on my back called Notalgia Paresthetica, which stands for “Itches like a Bastard.” By the third day without cannabis cream, my back itched and mastectomy scars were burning. The stuff works!

In kind of a weird twist, I saw a Gordon Biersch pub at the Atlanta airport while I was waiting around for my return flight back to Sacramento. The brewery was founded here in California, but I’ve never been. I believe they either invented or popularized garlic fries, so I popped in and had some. Yum, yum, yum, although I did have garlic poisoning afterward. Funny I would finally try them in Atlanta.

As for other entertainment, I was #1 on the library waiting list for Lethal White, the new Cormoran Strike novel. I would classify this as detective fiction. This is fourth in the series by J.K. Rowling, writing under the pseudonym of Robert Galbraith. It’s the best yet (and biggest yet at 647 pages). I was just getting to juicy parts on the way home when our plane began to descend, and I was mad. I could have flown in circles just to keep reading.

I’m kind of whipped after playing golf four days in a row and flying across the country twice. However, I had a great time! I hesitate to call it a vacation since I’m on permanent vacation, but it felt different than everyday life, which should resume today with a long list of stuff to do.

However, I’m on page 545, so I am going to call it a vacation, replete with vacation reading, and I will be extending it just a little bit longer.

Happy to be 63 and retired

I had a birthday this week – 63! I was going to get spiffed up and take a picture for the record, but getting spiffed up rarely interests me. Here I am sporting my signature retirement casual look.

When I was in Santa Cruz visiting my gorgeous friend, Monica, who just turned 40, the concierge was helping her with suggestions for the evening. I said hmmm, he didn’t help me, what’s up with that? We got dressed for dinner, and I wore my new skinny jeans. She said, well, he just hasn’t seen your butt yet.

Aw, that’s what friends are for.

Honestly, I am grateful to get older. I was 43 when I had a variation of stage 3 ovarian cancer, and here I am, 20 years later. I was unlucky to get it but exceptionally lucky to survive. I definitely want to rock my age, and I found unexpected inspiration this week on the golf course.

I played golf in my Wednesday league with three women I hadn’t yet met. Three of us were walking, and the other took a cart. The woman in the cart turned out to be 80. I was impressed until I discovered one of my fellow walkers was 82! I told her she was my new role model. She laughed and said, yeah, I just keep walking. The 80-year-old in the cart wasn’t nearly as spry.

Note to self: just keep walking.

Like most people, my golf game varies. On any given day, I can shoot 85 or 100. I’ve been reading up on the mental game, because there’s nothing wrong with my swing … just my brain. I played again on Friday, and I was telling my partner about positive self-talk, such as, “I am the best putter! I can’t wait to make this putt and show off my putting skills!”

It’s not true, but I’ve been doing it anyway, and I have made some unlikely putts. I was describing it to Dale and said, you know, fake it ‘til you make it. He had never heard that expression before.

It’s a work thing. You probably don’t remember that anymore.

Well, you haven’t worked in a year, so they probably don’t say that anymore.

I lost my work creds in a year?

Sorry, but yes.

You know what? I’m OK with that.

I thought you would be.

Dale makes me amazing two-mushroom lasagna with red pepper tomato sauce for my birthday, so I stayed home and worked as sous chef, chopping and weighing while he cooked. Between the two of us, it’s an all-day affair, but damn it’s good. We freeze the leftovers in individual portions, and what a treat that is (along with all the other great stuff in our freezer).

Monica got me semi-hooked on The Handmaid’s Tale. I read the book many years ago but hadn’t seen the Hulu show until we watched it together in Santa Cruz. It’s so good but so disturbing. When I first read the book, I thought this could never happen, but now I’m not so sure.

Last night I decided I was not going to watch this anymore. It’s too depressing. Instead, I watched The Book Club with Jane Fonda, et al. Mostly a bunch of older women sucking down boatloads of wine and complaining about their sex lives, which do improve significantly for all of them over the course of the movie. The Handmaid’s Tale seems more realistic to me. I suppose I’ll have to watch the rest of it.

Dale and I don’t get each other gifts anymore, but I did buy myself a Nespresso Virtuo coffeemaker, which was 50 percent off at Williams Sonoma when I ordered it but is only 20 percent off now. That little machine makes a damned good cup of coffee, and I like that it takes pods, because I typically don’t drink flavored coffee but like to keep it around for guests.

To finish off my birthday week, the temperatures dropped to the high 70s. It’s gorgeous outside, and it makes me feel happy to be 63 and retired!

What I learned in a year

I just hit the one-year mark on my retirement, although I was still on the payroll through most of October burning up the last of the vacation I could never seem to take for one reason or another. That means a year of not getting up at 4 a.m. or commuting 2.5 hours a day. Bliss!

What have I learned in a year?

  1. I was better at work than I am at golf.
  2. The house gets messier when you actually live there.
  3. Libraries rock.
  4. There is no shame in going to bed early and waking up late.
  5. My husband never says no when I say, “I’m going to Target, do you want to come along?”
  6. The kitchen gets messier when you actually cook.
  7. An occasional beer with lunch is a nice treat.
  8. Worrying about money doesn’t make the stock market go up or down.
  9. Housework sucks but keeps you moving and burns calories.
  10. My wardrobe fits into a laundry basket.
  11. Cannabis in small doses reduces pain and makes me happy.
  12. The dishwasher runs more than I do.
  13. Crocs make great slippers.
  14. Writing for pleasure and practice is fun and therapeutic.
  15. Sometimes I start thinking about lunch as soon as I finish breakfast.
  16. It’s better to say nothing than to criticize my husband’s driving.
  17. Cooking delicious food at home ruins you for most restaurants.
  18. Men don’t see dirt.
  19. Birkenstocks go with everything.
  20. The idea of a job has become increasingly unattractive.
  21. Change is good.
  22. I still can’t get rid of my work clothes.
  23. My inside voice and my outside voice are converging.
  24. It’s no big deal to squander a day – lots more where those came from.
  25. Gray hair looks good and saves time and money.
  26. You can have a social life without social media.
  27. I like Kohl’s better than Nordstrom.
  28. Homemade yogurt is worth the trouble.
  29. My husband does not report to me.
  30. Walking is good exercise, and it’s free.

Hanging in the heat

When we were living in the San Francisco Bay Area and told people we were retiring to the Sierra foothills near Sacramento, the first thing everyone said is, “You know it’s hot there in the summer, right?” I always said, well, we’ve lived in some hot places:

  • Cairo, Egypt
  • Huntsville, Alabama
  • Columbia, South Carolina
  • Fort Worth, Texas

I think we can hang in the heat.

Dale and I are now experiencing our first summer in the foothills, and everyone was right.

It’s hot.

We are hanging, but I have had to make a few changes, probably because I was a good bit younger when I bragged about being able to hang in the heat.

If I’m not finished with my walk before 11 a.m., I probably won’t be walking. We love our swimming pool and take a dip after dinner most nights. It’s so nice to get in bed after your body has been chilled down in the pool. I normally walk when I play golf, but I’ve started using a cart. Compromises must be made.

Golf does not have the intensity of a sport like long-distance running, but you’re out there four or five hours, and the heat takes its toll. I played this week when it was 104, and my partner had to quit at the turn because she felt so weak. I hung in there, drinking shitloads of water, but it’s like you can’t really get enough. My weight can drop three to five pounds from a single round of golf in the heat. It takes me two days to replace those fluids.

I finally realized I’m probably not drinking enough, and I’m not replacing electrolytes. I went to REI and bought these little low-sugar fizzy tablets by Nuun. You drop one in 16 ounces of water, it fizzes away and makes a light, refreshing drink packed with the stuff your body needs. I love the taste, and I feel 100 percent better since I started drinking it. I just ordered more from Amazon.

Dehydration is a common problem among older adults, and it just gets worse if you are active and sweat a lot. I’ve been drinking the electrolyte beverage as part of my hot weather exercise routine, but I’m wondering if I should keep it up all year as a preventive measure. I can’t see that 16 ounces a day (plus plenty of plain water) would hurt.

What I have found surprising about the heat is how my thoughts have turned to seasonal changes. When I was working, I pretty much thought about work all the time. Weather was just a distraction. In retirement, I spend a lot of time outdoors, and the weather is part of my daily life.

I like the dry, California heat and will be sad when the season is over. I like shorts, sandals, skimpy tops. Long days and no rain. The pool! White nectarines. Crisp cucumbers from the garden. Cold gazpacho. Oh, and farmer’s market strawberries, I’ll miss you most of all.

But then I think about autumn – and how great it will feel when things start to cool off. Hot soup, hearty casseroles, staying in bed on a rainy morning, hanging out all day in my jammies or walking a round of golf on a crisp afternoon. It’s not about wishing away summer but learning to enjoy the moment and appreciate seasonal changes.

I’ve always sort of steamrolled through life, and it took retirement to help me slow down and savor  experiences. I haven’t even been retired a full year, but I could not go back to a pressure-cooker job. I’d rather learn to hang in the heat. How about you?

Tent camping with bears

We had a fantastic time tent camping in the Sierra Mountains, but the trip was almost ruined by bears – the human one I’m married to, as well as the big furry ones that walk on four legs. Both had a part to play during this perilous trip into the woods.

As we entered the park, the rangers handed me a newsletter, which I read word-for-word. That’s how I roll. The first thing that caught my attention was a little article called, “A Fed Bear is a Dead Bear.” Of course, I realize the woods is not a petting zoo, but I was surprised to read about the importance of locking up all scented items in a bear locker.

According to the newsletter, bears are smart, resourceful, strong, hungry and have a highly developed sense of smell. Clearly, we are not talking about Dale, except for the part about being hungry. These are California black bears, and they will slaughter you for toothpaste. They had me at toothpaste, and I said, hey, Dale, be sure to put your ditty bag in the bear locker.

Nothing.

I keep reading. “Bears display aggressive behavior by showing their teeth, stomping their front feet, lowering their head and arching their back or charging toward you.” Again, we are not talking about Dale, except for the part about foot stomping. I repeat for Dale’s benefit, “It says a bear looking for toothpaste can slash through a tent or open a car like a sardine can. Please remember to put your ditty bag in the bear locker.”

Nothing.

The brochure continues. “If you see any of these behaviors, pick up children, stand tall, raise your arms and yell, ‘Bad Bear!’ Slowly back away.” I’m thinking this simple advice could be useful for dealing with human bears, so I tuck that away for later and read it aloud to Dale for greater impact.

Nothing.

“I wonder if you stand tall and yell ‘Good Bear!’ but in your bad bear voice, would it have the same effect?”

Dale wakes up from thinking about his favorite thing (happy hour?) and laughs. Humor always gets a reaction from him, but I can’t find the humor in being disemboweled by a bear.

Are you going to put your ditty bag in the bear locker?

What is this? You’ve asked me five times.

And I got zero responses. This is how conversation works. I say something, and you respond. Try it.

I hate it when you tell me what to do.

Yeah, well, it will suck when a bear rips open our tent and eats us alive. I do not want to be killed by a bear.

Oh, Donna. Seriously.

He thinks I’m overreacting, but he hasn’t read the newsletter! We drop the subject and get ready for dinner. We like to day hike and then return home to our luxurious base camp, where Dale cooks us up a delicious steak dinner accompanied by a lovely Cabernet Sauvignon from the Napa Valley. I’m starting to mellow as we sit by the campfire finishing off the wine and enjoying the peace and beauty of nature.

We clean up the campsite, putting the cooler in the car and disguising it with a blanket (bears know). I put our dry goods in the bear locker and stuff my cosmetic bag in there, too. Finally, it’s time for bed. We crawl into our zip-together sleeping bags and get all cuddly, and I’m thinking how lucky I am, what a good bear he is, when I remember the ditty bag.

Oh, Dale …

And from under the covers, I hear a growl. Then I see teeth.

YES. I PUT THE DITTY BAG IN THE BEAR LOCKER.

Great! Thanks!

Time for bear snuggles.

Serving cats and the joys of retirement

I love, love, love retirement. Mostly, I love the freedom to explore what interests me, to fill my brain with positivity instead of unhappy workplace noise. To serve our cat, Riley, with dignity and honor. To pre-heat his spa table for extra comfort. But I must say, I mostly love sleeping with no alarm to waken me.

With the help of medical cannabis, I sleep great, and being well-rested makes me feel and look better. When I went back to visit former colleagues recently, everyone said how great I looked, that retirement suited me. I said, yes, this is what sleep looks like. Sadly, I did have to get up at 4:30 a.m. on Monday. But don’t feel sorry for me. I needed an early start to drive to the mountains for a golf game.

I’ve relaxed a good bit since I retired last September. I keep checking the nest egg as though it’s going to go up in flames, but it’s still there, and just checking it periodically gives me comfort. I’m filling my time quite nicely. I read the entire series of Harry Bosch novels and watched the entire Bosch series on Amazon. My only regret is that I’m finished until something new is published.

Think of your first year of retirement as a test run. Poke around and see what makes you happy. See what sticks. I like to think we can find a balance of recreation and intellectual enlightenment. Retirement is actually jam-packed, and we will need to prioritize. I’m still working on priorities.

Doing

  • Mastering the art of serving the cat
  • Maintaining/remodeling house
  • Walking about five miles a day
  • Playing golf 2-3 days week, walking most of the time, making new friends
  • Lifting light weights to improve my upper body strength
  • Cooking
  • Reading (taking advantage of the local library)
  • Swimming a bit so I can build up to regular lap swims
  • Blogging/consulting
  • Wearing cuter retirement clothes (donated my man pants and other bad fashion choices)

To Do

  • Take the light rail into the city and explore the urban scene
  • Check out local museums
  • Get serious about strength, flexibility and balance
  • Pickleball?
  • Volunteer in the community
  • Get serious about training for a long-distance walk
  • Find a new detective series

On the immediate horizon is a camping trip! We tent camped until we moved to Texas, where in the summer it never cooled off enough at night for decent sleep. We bought a small teardrop trailer (The Toaster) we could tow with our old Honda Element. It had an air conditioner and served us well, but it is no longer among the living. With cool Northern California nights, we are back to tent camping.

I’m also signed up for a business and industry educational seminar on cannabis. As you might guess, I’m excited about medical cannabis and eager to learn as much as possible. I’m counting this one as intellectual enlightenment, although there might be some recreation involved.

Getting here was not easy, but I am so profoundly grateful we were able to earn enough and save enough to make this life possible. Retirement is an amazing opportunity to explore the joys of life without the pressures of a full-time job. There are different pressures, for sure, but retirement is kind of like being a kid again and school’s out for summer.

How’s your summer going?