My friend, Carole, is an amazing artist. Her house is filled with all kinds of creations using different mediums, different techniques. She casts a wide net when it comes to art. I love it all, but my favorite is what you see in the pictures above. Paper mache (or papier-mâché for you fancy folks).
I didn’t even know it was possible to do what she does. I’m a novice artist, a dabbler, really, but every time I see Carole’s work, I am inspired to take a leap.
While Carole has been at it for years, I didn’t even consider trying to create art until retirement. I’ve always messed around with writing, but other than a little photography many moons ago, I avoided anything visual or hands-on.
And then as the story goes, I salvaged some wood from my neighbor and couldn’t decide what to do with it. Eventually, I landed on burning designs with a pyrography tool and then filling in the designs with color. Kind of like making my own coloring book. And yes, I always colored inside the lines.
I’ve previously suggested I would be interested in selling my pieces, but I’ve decided to keep them. They are part of my life experience, and I like looking at them.
The latest is slightly different than the rest.
My other neighbor was doing some work around his cabin in the mountains and brought this back for me to play with. I don’t know what kind of wood it is, but it was hard to burn. It’s a good bit larger than my typical pallet scraps.
After visiting Carole’s home recently, I realized there is no end to her artistic drive and creativity. I mean, I’m just a grasshopper, but couldn’t I stretch myself at least a little?
This time around, I attempted to draw a few real things other than just random doodles. I’m not particularly good at what I call representational art, but who cares? The thing I love about art is that it doesn’t have to be realistic. I decide what a mermaid looks like. Mine has gray hair!
I’ve learned a lot from my experiments with art … and from seeing different types of art and hanging out with people like Carole and my sister, who is an accomplished quilter and fabric artist. So many different ideas! So much to learn!
All it takes is commitment. Curiosity. As a friend of mine used to say, you don’t need talent. You either do art or you don’t. Some other revelations:
Perfection is overrated.
Art teaches you to trust yourself.
The act of creating art might be as free as you’ll ever be.
Retirement is the perfect time to find your inner artist.
I feel like I jumped the shark with that swimsuit photo. It is challenging to deal with this post-mastectomy body. I got carried away after I found a flattering swimsuit and wanted to show off a little. Still, it seems a bit too showy.
Oh, well. I guess there are worse things. I spent decades feeling bad about my body, so what the hell?
I just returned from a visit with my sister, whom I haven’t seen since before the pandemic. She lives in Eureka. The drive is about five and a half hours, but for some reason, we can’t seem to pull it off very often. We’re both super-cautious about Covid, so that’s part of it. The day before I left, we both did home Covid tests, and both were negative.
We had a great time, mostly just visiting and watching movies. I was only there for three nights, but it was movie marathon. I don’t think any of them will win the critic’s award, but we enjoyed ourselves. Let’s see if I can remember:
Jungle Cruise (our favorite ride from Disneyland)
The Lost City (because old ladies deserve to look at Channing Tatum)
The Proposal (because we were on a Sandra Bullock kick)
Office Space (because we’re retired)
Bohemian Rhapsody
Rocketman
The Mountain Between Us (Kate Winslet)
Guardians of the Galaxy
Persuasion
Good Luck to You, Leo Grande (Emma Thompson bares it all)
I may have missed one or two! It was definitely chick flick central, and I have no remorse. I’m just glad Dale didn’t tag along, as he we would have been miserable.
We also visited the local zoo. While not large, it is an exceptionally nice zoo. My favorite part was seeing two bald eagles up close. Amazing!! My other favorite part is a new feature called the Redwood Sky Walk. You can walk on a series of bridges through the redwood canopy. Very beautiful and accessible for people who use wheelchairs.
Eureka is chilly by my standards. I was bundled up, and my sister walked around like it was summer. We are very different, yet we have a lot in common, and of course, we share the experience of being raised by wolves. As children, it was difficult, but as adults, we can look back and laugh. It’s amazing we’re walking upright.
Back at home, the heat has turned extreme. I played golf yesterday, and I can definitely feel it today. I was lying on the couch, got up too fast and almost passed out. Today is all about getting hydrated. Then a swim later this afternoon.
This visit was relatively low-risk, and the rewards were immeasurable. Being able to drive there is a huge plus. We have tickets to fly to Maine in August to visit Dale’s sisters, but the jury is still out on that one. Anticipating Covid eruptions, we bought refundable tickets.
I spent a lot of time planning the itinerary, which airports to go through, etc. The flights have already been changed twice, and now we’re going through Kennedy one way and LaGuardia the other. Exactly where I didn’t want to be in terms of Covid risk, although I’m not sure it makes much of a difference. I would guess most airports are risky.
The whole thing scares me, and I’m probably not going to go. I told Dale I would make my decision this week.
After 43 years, it’s still hard to pry anything out of him, so I don’t know what he’s going to do. He and his sister are close, so I believe he’ll go no matter what. I think I just have to do my risk/reward assessment and figure out what feels right for me at this point. Are you traveling? How do you decide?
I hate that it has come to this, but there you have it. Reality bites. But small wins – a visit with my sister – make up for the other indignities of our times.
Speaking of indignities, I’m eager to see the primetime Jan. 6 hearing this Thursday. I mean, it’s not exactly Channing Tatum, but it will do.
I’ve written before about what a struggle it is to find a swimsuit. I know everyone, and I mean everyone, has something that makes finding a decent swimsuit difficult. As for me, I have a long torso and am flat following breast cancer and a mastectomy without reconstruction. I’ve never worn a prosthesis, and they say the swimming version is particularly awful.
One would think racing-style suits would work for someone like me, since most of them don’t have bras. But then there’s that long body thing. Racing suits seem to be made for short-waisted people. I tried on a bunch at Dick’s Sporting Goods, and none of them worked. I went to Big 5 at the suggestion of a reader, and they had closed their fitting rooms due to the pandemic.
Well, I returned to Big 5, and the fitting rooms were open this time. I kept sizing up until I found the sweet spot. I discovered Nike swimsuits were cut larger, but by the time I got them to fit my butt and my torso, they were too big in the chest.
Speedo and TYR are cut smaller, so I had to go up several sizes – a 38, which is equivalent to an American size 12. Kind of shocked me, but they fit! I ended up buying three. It was like Christmas in July.
How come I didn’t figure this out sooner? Probably because I convinced myself I couldn’t possibly be a size 12. Another lesson in the perils of vanity sizing.
I’m sure I will regret this, but I have included a picture of me trying it on AGAIN at home, just to be sure. All three were keepers.
More and more women are choosing to go flat after a mastectomy, and I know it’s a difficult decision. Is it weird? Will you look like a freak? I hope this visual evidence helps those who might be weighing this important decision. Being breastless is not the end of the world. At least we don’t have to worry about gravity taking over!
Swimming laps in a suit like a “real” swimmer has motivated me to swim more. I’ve always been the type who mindlessly swims lap after lap, but now I’ve started interval training, some long and slow laps and some sprints – and it’s super-fun. Definitely breaks up the boredom, and getting my heart rate up releases endorphins I can’t seem to get from walking or golf, the anti-endorphin.
It just took a little something extra to push me out of my comfort zone. I suppose it’s kind of embarrassing to think a simple change of clothes could motivate me to exercise, but then I remembered the confidence I felt when I looked good at work. Maybe it’s the same in retirement.
Dress for success!
Yes, it’s fashion, but it’s also about form and function.
This sudden burst of energy has also made me re-think how I dress for other activities. Maybe it’s just me, but even a casual walk feels better when you make an effort to look like you mean it. I see a lot of cyclists with fancy outfits, most of them are men, and I can’t help but think having a sports “uniform” motivates them as well.
Do you make a special effort to dress for your sport or outdoor activity? Does it help motivate you to exercise?
My laptop has been flashing the blue screen of death several times a day for a month or so, and I finally decided to get a new one. The minute I ordered it, my computer woke up and said, “Wait! I was only kidding!”
All of the sudden, my computer is performing just fine. Blue screen of death seems to be a thing of the past, but it’s too late, fucktard. You are history. I’m ready to move on.
I got a jury summons and had to report Tuesday. I didn’t want to go, but duty calls. We live in a suburban area on the edges of the county, but the courthouse is deeper into the rural red part of the region. Dale said try to look intelligent, and they won’t pick you.
Looking intelligent might be a bridge too far, but I did look smart. Slacks, t-shirt with a cotton bomber jacket and leather shoes … as opposed to sneakers. Let’s just say if there had been a prize for best dressed, I would have won it. The things people will wear to court.
The group was asked to wait outside until called. Shortly before our scheduled time, the bailiff came out and said the trial had been canceled. All we had to do was drop our summons in a box, and we would get full credit for having served. Yay!
I got home just in time to watch the Jan. 6 hearing featuring Cassidy Hutchinson. Wow. Duty called for her, too, and she stepped up.
Listening to her brought back painful memories. While my job was certainly not comparable to a White House role, I had a similar position as an aide to a high-level corporate executive. For a multitude of reasons, it was the most horrible job I’ve ever had, and I still have a little PTSD over it.
Regardless of what they say on Fox news, these jobs are not about getting coffee for the boss, although I won’t say I didn’t serve a cup now and then. You are their handler. You coordinate with everyone to get things done, get them in the right place at the right time, prep them for engagements and tell them what bombs are about to be dropped. It’s high-level, high-stress, and I have no doubt she saw or heard everything she testified to.
And it had to be painful to speak up, because there is a cloak of silence when you are in one of those jobs. I witnessed some really bad personal behavior and never said a word, partly because everyone is vested in the boss, and you assume no one will believe you. Some underling no one cares about. Your career is disposable.
The issues were not ethical violations that affected the corporation, so I rode it out as long as I could and managed to talk my way out of the job after a year or so. I felt lucky to survive that experience. Seriously, that was the worst year of my life, and I’ve had cancer twice, so my hat’s off to Cassidy.
And I am once again reminded of how much I enjoy being retired! It does feel like the pandemic is waning somewhat, and I’m ever hopeful for some sort of return to normalcy. Dale and I are thinking about actually going in person to a theater to see a movie!
Although I want to see Downton Abbey, I could stream that at home and be OK. I’m thinking Top Gun would be great on the big screen.
As a homebody who saw a lot of the world in my younger days, retirement for me was never going to be all about travel, but I figured I’d go somewhere, sometime. Right? Right?
Then the pandemic hit, and the answer was wrong, wrong. We hunkered down. It was fine, but you can only make so much sourdough. One does reach a point where all that isolation wears on you. We’re both fully vaccinated and fully boosted with no significant health issues, so we decided it was time to reenter civilization, travel a bit and take some calculated risks.
Dale and I took a road trip to Morro Bay, a beautiful spot on the central coast of California. For us, it was about a five-hour drive.
Our hotel was right by the water, and the views were spectacular. We hiked in Montaña de Oro State Park and took a day trip to Hearst Castle. We also checked out some local museums and ate well, including oysters – barbequed and fried. We dined inside, but the restaurants weren’t packed and seemed well-ventilated. We chose not to worry about it.
We did mask up for Hearst Castle. I went there as a kid but don’t remember much of anything but the swimming pools! Dale had never been, and much to my surprise, he loved it. He even did more reading about Hearst and the estate itself after we got back. Having that kind of money and choosing to spend it that way was infinitely fascinating to him.
We were home for a few days, and then I went off on a girl’s golf trip to Santa Cruz and Capitola. There were seven of us, and I was a bit nervous, but it turned out to be a blast. The golf was spectacular, although much more difficult than where we normally play. Three rounds of golf and unusually high scores for me, but … I only lost one ball! I consider that a victory.
The conversation among the women was fantastic. I haven’t been in a group like that for many years, and I forgot how fun it can be. The only sensitive issue came up after the Roe versus Wade announcement.
Most were pro-choice, but one woman shared a different perspective. She was all about abortion access belonging to the states, and the rest of us were calling bullshit, but it was a civilized and respectful discussion. Everyone got to say what they wanted to say, and we moved onto a different topic … semi-naked men.
Nothing like semi-naked men to bring a group of 60 and 70-something women together. Our accommodations included a huge picture window facing an area where surfers change in and out of their wetsuits. Most of these athletic surfers were beautiful physical specimens, and it was better than television. I think they knew were we watching and preened a bit, but maybe I imagined that.
There were women surfers, too, but my eyes were elsewhere.
We also had game night. I love games, and Dale hates them for the most part, so I enjoyed it a lot. We played “Blank Slate.” A word is flashed with a blank in front of it or behind it, and everyone writes down a word that would go with it. For example, cheese _____. The goal is to get matches, so you want a common word.
On that particular word, we had cheese board, cheeseburger – I forget what else. I picked cheese doodles, thinking that would be the big winner, and no one else had ever heard of them. It ended up being hilarious, although that might have been the margaritas talking.
I was telling my sister about it, and she said it sounded like The Match Game, a 1970s TV show. I remember that show! For some reason, I recall the actress Arlene Francis was one of the panelists.
Anyway, that is more travel than either one of us has done in years. My girl’s trip was good for both of us. We’ve always had plenty of “breaks” over the years, but we kind of holed up together after the pandemic. While I loved the time away and enjoying the company of other women, I also found myself missing him, so it’s all good.
In my absence, Dale and Riley, our cat, watched the hearings together and Dale filled me in on all that when I returned. We thought Ivanka’s hair and makeup looked particularly odd and resembled some other notable person but we couldn’t figure out who. With me gone, he had time to think about something other than my petty needs, and bingo …
Saruman!
I did mess up one thing. I hate to talk on the phone, so I suggested Dale text me if he had anything to say. I’m sure I told him I’d be back Saturday afternoon, but I didn’t write it down. I didn’t even give him the address of where I’d be or any additional information.
On Friday, he texted me asking for an ETA, and I thought he meant for Saturday, but he thought I was coming home Friday night. I got a panic call from him late that night, wondering where the hell I was.
When I got home, we concluded that next time I’ll leave more information on a cheat sheet, and next time we will talk not text. Simple enough.
And there will be a next time. We are both happy to be home but energized by new experiences. This is a little bit of a shift in our retirement strategy. While we’re unlikely to become retirement globe trotters, I do see more travel in our future.
Dale and I debated whether we should watch the Jan. 6 hearings on TV. We agreed it was our civic duty, but we also agreed we’d switch back to the Food Network the minute one of us got disgusted. Not that we haven’t already overdosed on Guy Fieri, but he’s typically more palatable than Congress.
Winner, winner. Insurrection dinner.
Bottom line. We were riveted. My beer got warm, and that’s saying something. We rushed to assemble dinner during the 10-minute break. Dale was furiously chopping cilantro for the fresh Pico de Gallo that would accompany our carnitas tacos, and I thought, oh no, he’s going to cut himself.
“It’s back on! It’s back on!” I hollered to Dale, who stayed steady with the knife but was sweating like he was a finalist on Guy’s Grocery Games. I set up the TV trays, and we were back in our seats in time to watch the second hour. I did not leave my chair, not even to get another beer.
Now I’m kind of wishing we could download the whole season and binge watch it this weekend.
Postscript: I failed to mention the footage was also heartbreaking, and we look forward to the day when the former guy is held accountable for his actions.
My annual physical was this week. We talked about Covid. I said we were recluses the first two years, but now we are venturing out. I’m assuming we will get it. I was thinking about Paxlovid, the antiviral pill and wondering if I would need it.
She didn’t think so. My immune system has mostly likely recovered from two bouts of cancer. I’m 66, and she said that’s still in the lower end of the age-related risk. I have high blood pressure, but that’s it. Still, because of my cancer history and the unknowns related to that, we agreed I would call for the pills if I should happen to test positive. She agreed with our plans to venture out and said we can’t live in a bubble forever.
I told the doctor I liked the neurosurgeon she referred me to for my back, even though I told him the only reason I kept the appointment was in case the shit hit the fan and I needed an existing patient relationship with a neurosurgeon. Not a good situation to be in, but I like to plan ahead.
He got my vibe, and we agreed surgery bad, exercise good. Keep doing what I’m doing.
My only beef was in the post-visit summary, there was a line about advising the patient to lose weight. At 5’7” and hovering just above 130 pounds, I figured it was a pre-populated form, and he didn’t bother to customize it. I was miffed.
She agreed and said normally the doctor double checks the form to ensure the parts that aren’t relevant are deleted. Then she told me a funny story.
One of her patients was having problems with his testicles. She examined him and found nothing unusual. Using her customary medical jargon, she wrote, “Testicles unremarkable.” But she didn’t delete it from the summary patients receive, and apparently, he was more than a bit upset to read that.
Anyway, so far, so good on the annual physical. For some reason, my cholesterol was the best it has been in years. I haven’t made any big dietary changes. The only thing I can think of is that I’ve been eating a lot of nuts. On the golf course, I snack on a mix of walnuts, almonds and dried cranberries.
Speaking of golf and nuts, I played with a someone this week who might be certifiable. Some seriously crazy stuff coming out of her mouth. I decided to pretend she was my dear eccentric friend and that it was all very amusing. It was actually all very annoying, but my pretense worked! I did not get upset or blow my game, and I found myself warming up to her.
I’ve been sort of a slacker when it comes to writing, but I like to think of it as refining the art of the slack. I’m exhausted by the high standards of productivity some people set for themselves in retirement. Certainly, my days are reasonably busy, but I don’t document my activities with quarterly reports and the dreaded self-assessment.
While big goals typically require planning, preparation and commitment, in the art of the slack, it’s important to set a low bar for the routines of daily life. This is contrary to my former approach, which was anything worth doing was worth doing with disturbing ferocity. I used to say my tombstone should read, “She tried hard.”
Retirement has mellowed me. I’m learning to enjoy life with less effort. It turns out the universe will nudge you one way or the other, and it all works out in the end. Still, I’ve learned a few important lessons you’ll want to know about.
Try to wash your sheets once a week, but they can wait if you’ve got something better to do.
Dress for less. You probably have all the clothes you’ll ever need.
Go gray. It’s less work, less expensive and beautiful.
Dust settles and will sit quietly minding its own business longer than you think.
Weeds look like flowers if you squint.
After a shower, squeegee and wipe it down with a towel. It’s a pain in the ass, but you might only need to scrub the shower once a month or less.
If you have a dishwasher, skip the pre-rinse. Google it if you don’t believe me.
Go ahead. Make a top-10 list but stop at eight.
If you’re among those who enjoy gathering metrics, please feel free to call bullshit on me. For the rest, I’m eager to know … how are you refining the art of the slack?
I’m emerging from a self-imposed funk, and I started to write about all the racist, sexist bullshit things that are pissing me off right now, but once I go down that rabbit hole, it’s hard to climb back out. I’ll just say this. I don’t believe in conspiracy theories, but from what I’ve seen, we’d be better off if about half of the country is replaced. Bring it on.
Buffalo sent me over the edge, but I’m creeping back toward the middle now. Trying to focus on simple pleasures. Things I can control such as my body (but that’s only because I don’t have a uterus).
Oops, there I go again. Back to our regular programming.
As an avid golfer, I couldn’t wait to retire because I read somewhere you get better and better if you practice and play a lot. I’m a decent golfer, but after a few years of playing three times a week, I’m not much better than when I played twice a month. I must have missed the part that said, “Individual Results May Vary.”
This week I made the momentous decision to cut one day off my weekly golf schedule. And in the end, it really has nothing to do with how well I play. Golf is a time-sucker, and there’s too much competition on the hobby front – swimming, walking, cooking, reading, writing and making art. Oh, and I just signed up for the free version of Duolingo to learn Spanish.
The pool at the club where I swim laps is finally warm enough to swim without a thermal top. Without all that weighing me down, I felt like Flipper! I never could find a one-piece that fit, so I ended up buying these tops at Lululemon. They’re not swimsuits per se, but they work great for those of us who have had a mastectomy without reconstruction. I pair them with basic bottoms from Target.
Today is Dale’s birthday, so he’s making fajitas. I was willing to cook, but that’s what he wanted, and fajitas are his thing. I did make cheesecake! We both love it, but sometimes I think we just need a batch of graham cracker crust now and then. I’m thinking about waffles for tomorrow morning. I like this recipe from King Arthur. You can make the batter ahead and refrigerate it overnight.
I’ve been kind of burned out on streaming shows, although the new Bosch series is great. If you like seriously twisted crime fiction, I recommend The Turnout by Megan Abbott. It’s about a family of ballet dancers, and she does for ballet what she did for cheerleaders in Dare Me. It’s all sick and wrong, but that’s why you read Megan Abbott.
On a more pleasant note, I read the first two in a series of Victorian mysteries by Tasha Alexander featuring Lady Emily Ashton. They are a tad tame for me, but I liked them a lot and will probably read the rest. I’m not proud, but I have Tina Brown’s new book about the royals on reserve at the library. The Palace Papers – looks like she dishes on just about everyone, and for some reason, that appeals to me at this moment in time.
I updated the gallery to include my last two pieces, Number 26 and Number 27. I couldn’t be happier to have discovered the joys of art later in life. With the time I’m getting back by skipping a day of golf, I think I’m going to visit Dick Blick and see what that’s all about. I’ve never been, although I do order from them online.
For many of us, it’s hard to stay positive, yet I somehow manage (for the most part). I’m reminded of the late musician Leonard Cohen, who said, “I’ve studied all the philosophies and all the theologies, but cheerfulness keeps breaking through!”
I came home from golf the other day, and there was a brand-new garden hose sitting idly on the front porch. Hmmm, I thought, I wonder what that’s all about.
Then I looked to the side of the driveway and spotted one of the bladders to our waterbed. Oh, this can’t be good, I said to myself.
It seems Dale woke up with a wet butt, assumed it was a leak in the waterbed and didn’t tell me, because he didn’t want to mess up my golf plans. What a guy! He drained the leaky bladder and managed to drag it downstairs, although he said it was quite the ordeal.
We’ve been talking about replacing the waterbed for a couple of years now. No time like the present. I tend to research and overthink everything, and I did not want to go that route this time around. Our guest room has a nice Beautyrest mattress we both tested to our satisfaction, so that’s what we went with for the master. While making the purchase, we had to decide between standard height box springs or low profile. Standard sounded good to us.
The bed is fantastic, but we didn’t realize standard box springs are nine inches thick. No big deal, except the bed is kind of up there now. At first, I didn’t like the looks of it, but I actually prefer getting in and out of the higher bed. It’s easier on my back.
However, our nightstands are hobbit-sized. It’s weird to reach over for something, and the reading light needs to be raised. A book on the floor is unreachable. Dale decided he likes the higher bed as well, so we’re looking at other solutions. I’ve been eying up bedside caddies that hold books, electronic devices and such.
Taller nightstands are probably going to happen as well. Ours are more than 30 years old and not in the best of shape. I looked online and can pretty easily get what we need, but I don’t want a wobbly nightstand and have been wondering if we should buy something from an actual furniture store, assuming they still exist.
The question, dear reader, is about quality. We hang onto everything as long as we possibly can and only replace when we absolutely have to. Some of our older furniture is well-made and has been hanging around more than 40 years … old and beat up, but hanging tough. Sounds like us!
We also have a few unique pieces bordering on junk that have lasted just as long. So, who knows? More recent additions are internet purchases from discount places – mostly shelves and stools. Quality varies, but it’s relatively cheap stuff, and we like it just fine.
However, we have been known to drop money on fancy kitchen essentials … pots, pans, knives. But that’s because we are passionate about cooking. We also enjoy our Ekornes Stressless chairs, which are outrageously expensive and worth every penny. Because we are passionate about sitting comfortably every single day.
For us, this isn’t about style or status. It’s more of a philosophical question. Does quality even exist anymore? Is it worth paying for? Always or just sometimes? Is cheap ever good enough?
It’s rather macabre, but I think about our mortality. As my 85-year-old golf buddy jokes, he doesn’t even buy green bananas anymore. Do your priorities change when you realize this thing might outlive you?
Our stuff will go to an estate sale when we die, and charities and/or surviving family members will inherit our assets. I don’t see the point in spending big bucks on a nightstand.
I’m thinking cheap but sturdy, serviceable and not hideous. Doable or easier said than done?
My autoflowering Jack Herer strain at 66 days. Mr. E. Pupil, the clone I purchased from the dispensary at one week.
When I had chemotherapy 23 years ago, I struggled with nausea and loss of appetite. Even though I was subject to drug testing at work, we decided to take a chance, and Dale managed to find me some pot … yes, in South Carolina! He rolled up a little joint one day, and all of the sudden, I was like, “What’s for dinner?”
I hated smoking it, but cannabis improved my mood and helped me maintain a good appetite so I could stay strong and endure the rest of the treatments. I do believe cannabis helped save my life.
Cannabis has come a long way. While I know some readers live in areas where cannabis is still severely restricted or against the law, others enjoy the benefits of legalized medical or recreational use. Living in California, legal cannabis is readily available, and now that I’m retired and no longer subject to drug tests, I grow and use it mostly for what I call “medicinal purposes.”
My blog statistics show a steady interest in my periodic cannabis reports, so here goes.
Growing Indoors
Although I’m not much of a gardener, I’ve been growing cannabis indoors for several years now. It’s not hard to grow, even for a novice, and that’s one of the reasons they call it weed – it grows like a weed. And it’s such a cool plant. I love seeing it morph over time. The buds are gorgeous.
I grow autoflowers from seed. Autoflowers are also known as ruderalis. This means the plant will flower when it’s ready and does not require special equipment to block out the light (non-autoflowers need 12 hours of darkness in the flowering stage).
Autoflowers are not as prolific as one might hope, but I’ve had decent results. Average growing time for me is 71 days and average yield is 17 grams. My highest yield was 30 grams.
Growing Outdoors
Last year, I purchased a seedling, also known as a clone, for about $20 from the local cannabis dispensary. Our yard doesn’t get a lot of sun, and the spot I picked in the flowerbed didn’t help. The plant failed to get enough sunlight and did not flourish, although it didn’t die.
I purchased another clone this week and planted it in a pot I placed in the sunniest part of the yard. If this one works, I should easily double my typical yield on the autoflowers.
Topical Balm
I use topical cannabis balm every day on my knees, an itchy thing on my back called Notalgia Paresthetica and other creaky body parts. You can buy it from the dispensary or make it yourself. My recipe for homemade balm is on the downloads page.
My preference is to use a strain high in CBD, which all reports suggest is a great anti-inflammatory and even better when combined with THC. It’s called the entourage effect. When you buy it commercially, look for the CBD to THC ratio. A ratio of 1:1 is typical, and a 3:1 ratio would be a high-CBD balm.
I haven’t had success growing a high-CBD strain, so I purchase flower from the dispensary. In the past, I’ve used CBD Shark, Ringo’s Gift and Harlequin.
Tincture
There are two types of tincture. One is made with glycerin, and you put a couple of drops under your tongue for quick results. The other type is made with alcohol, and it’s too strong to put under your tongue. I mix it with liquids and drink it. It can take 30 minutes to hour to feel any effects.
Tincture might be my favorite use for cannabis. A little bit goes a long way and makes me feel happy and calm. Dale and I joke that I’m “On the tinc.”
I made my own tincture from alcohol several years ago, and I still have some left! If you’re using it for the first time, you should titrate. Start with two drops (not dropperfuls) and wait at least an hour to see if you feel any effects. Repeat over several days, adding one drop at a time, to see what the minimum dose is.
Even after almost five years, I only use four or five drops, but then I’m a lightweight. Dale tried it and felt nothing. But he didn’t have the patience to titrate.
Since I use tincture mostly for the psychotropic effects, I’m less concerned about CBD. If I get a big yield off my outdoor plant this year, I’ll probably use it for a new batch of tincture. Sometimes I mix it with juice in the morning, but recently I discovered another great use. Instead of whiskey, I like a cup of tea with tincture as a happy hour drink.
The tincture does add a taste to liquids, and I’ve been experimenting with various teas that complement the herby nature of cannabis. So far, I like Hibiscus, Double Red Rooibos and Irish Whiskey Flavored Tea. Sadly, the latter does not taste like Irish Whiskey to me, but I like it anyway.
Edibles for Sleep
While edibles are a pleasant way to get high or treat pain, I’ve only used them to help with sleep. Some products say they are “low dose” at 5 or 10 mgs of THC. Ten would knock me off my feet, but even five is a bit much. Most edibles can be cut in half. However, I recently discovered Kiva Blackberry CBN Mints, which are my new low-dose faves.
Each mint has 2 mgs of THC and 1 mg of CBN, the cannabinoid that has sedative effects. I often toss and turn at night, but I ate one of those mints before bed, and I don’t think I budged, not even to pee or drink water. And I felt refreshed when I woke up.
The tin holds 40 mints. The list price was $17.93 plus tax, but the dispensary was featuring 20 percent off edibles that Sunday, so I got a nice little discount. Even at full price, that’s about 44 cents a dose.
