Grumpy times

It has been a weird couple of weeks. They’re calling this back thing sciatica resulting from a herniated disc. I’m calling it bullshit, but that’s me. Anyway, I can’t sit for very long, so that’s why I haven’t posted much lately.

The weather is miserable by my wussy California standards. We need the snow up in the mountains and the rain down here in the valleys and foothills, so this deluge is a great thing but rather miserable. I’m more of a drought kind of gal.

Continuing with the grumpy theme, I may as well report it has also been quite cold compared to the typical weather we see this time of year. I think the high today is 42 degrees. It may as well be zero.

The golf course is unplayable in terms of mud and lakes where there aren’t supposed to be any. Plus, I have to be desperate to play golf when it’s in the 40s. Even my 85-year-old diehard golf buddy who plays no matter what canceled for the week. Somehow, that made me feel better. But here I am, stuck in the house with my loving life partner, trying not to get mad about something or everything.

I can’t quite make myself go to the club and swim, even though the pool is heated. However, I have been walking every day. Seriously bundled up but walking nonetheless. Which reminds me of this song by Jesse Dayton: MAY HAVE TO DO IT (DON’T HAVE TO LIKE IT). Check it out. It’s a good song for these unprecedented times.

I got my first Social Security payment this month. That was fun. I do like to be on the receiving end of money. Forfeiting? Not so much. A guy I used to work with called to tell me about the sweet exit package he got for being forced to retire. I did not get that package.

However, two days earlier I heard that a big jerk I had to deal with had some sort of crisis and is no longer with the company. And justice finally caught up with an ex-boss who helped inspire me to exit the scene at a high rate of speed.

While I didn’t hang in there long enough to see it all go down, the fact that I worked with some particularly toxic people and walked away with a wonderful retirement sort of makes me feel like last man standing. I’m just not standing over there anymore.

I’m torn about physical therapy. I still believe in the Dr. Sarno approach, which assumes most pain is repressed anger and rage, and we must work hard to bring those feelings to the surface to make the pain subside. He thinks you should bypass anything that focuses on the body instead of the brain. Most of what I’ve read says time heals most sciatica. Not a lot of evidence that interventions help.

So, there’s that. Then there’s COVID. The therapist I saw last week had a droopy mask and when I suggested he get a better fit, he said, “That’s OK. I’m good.”

Yay for you, buddy. What about me???

Until Omicron passes, going back to the physical therapy place seems like high risk. Loose masks, people huffing and puffing, etc. I may go one more time to see if they can do some actual therapy instead of putting me through a battery of tests to see what hurts. Let me make this easy for you. Everything.

That leaves me with an upcoming haircut. I’ve been loving my new hair and want to keep it up. I know my stylist is fully vaccinated, boosted, masked and careful. Others will be wearing masks as well, and I’m thinking I could probably get in and out pretty fast.

Fucking COVID. While I did have some drama in my childhood and beyond, with the help of professional counseling, I worked through most of those issues the first time I had cancer. I’ve had a few other ah-ha moments of late, and I am grateful for that bit of introspection, but I think this stress is related to the pandemic.

I know I have it easy compared to many, and I am beyond grateful for all my good fortune. Like everyone else, I miss my old life, but I have this sense something has fundamentally changed, and there’s no going back.

Anyway, this is as long as I’ve been able to sit in quite some time, so maybe I am getting better. I did express anger, didn’t I? Still can’t quite summon the rage. There’s plenty of that going around. Honestly, I don’t think rage needs me. Maybe I can get away with just being a little pissed off.

Managing chronic pain

According to the neurosurgeon, most of my back problems are typical age-related degeneration. I have one disc bulge that is squeezing the spine (if I’m even saying that correctly). Basically, the result is spinal stenosis. He said that’s why I have pain in my lower buttocks. Hey, but ask Dale. He already knew I was a pain in the ass.

The neurosurgeon said I was way better off than most people with this degree of stenosis. He attributed my good fortune to physical fitness and encouraged me to keep doing whatever I’m doing. I was happy to hear I can still walk, swim and play golf, and even happier to hear him say it’s unlikely I’d ever need surgery. That’s good, because after multiple cancer surgeries, I have already fulfilled my surgical obligations.

In the meantime, I’ve been working on the mind-body connection. I started with Healing Back Pain by John Sarno. He believed repressed emotions cause most chronic pain, but other than understanding that concept and accepting it, he didn’t offer much in the way of advice.

Dr. Sarno was seen as a bit of a quack in his day, but there’s new research that vindicates him. It seems lots of medical professionals now believe chronic pain starts and ends in the brain – you just have to work a bit at reprogramming your physical responses to emotions such as anger, fear, shame and guilt.

After reading some of the newer articles like this one, I signed up for a program at Curable. There are all sorts of brain exercises and training modules to help navigate through chronic pain. Within a couple of weeks, I was virtually pain-free.

Then out of the blue, it cranked up again. There’s an emergency section of the app for when you have a flare-up, and it walks you through some ideas to help get you back on track. I thought I had dealt with all my emotional baggage and couldn’t imagine what was left.

After doing the module this morning, I’ve discovered a few more unresolved issues. Nothing big – she says – just the granddaddy of them all. Who am I? Why am I here? How much time to I have on this Earth, and what should I do with it?

I never really thought about those sorts of things when I was busy earning a living. It was just grind, grind, grind, and in retrospect, there’s something to be said for that mode of existence. In retirement, I have the pleasure of waking up in the middle of the night to engage in existential discussions with myself. But at least I can sleep in.

As long as I’m moving, I’m fine. Sitting is the worst. What else do I do when I sit? Why, write, of course. Since I haven’t written anything in a couple of weeks, I’m wondering if there’s a connection.

As I try to get rid of this butt ache, which is really, I think, an aching for knowledge, wisdom, value or purpose, choose one or all of the above, it would seem I have some work to do. I’ve decided that’s OK.

I try not to think of life as a game to win or lose. Things seem to work better for me when I forget about being MVP and just show up for practice.

P.S. If you’re looking for some great reading featuring a strong (and I mean badass) female protagonist, I highly recommend the Jane Whitefield series by Thomas Perry. Jane is a Native American who helps people disappear when bad guys are after them. Vanishing Act is first in the series. And joy of joys, there are nine of them!

The haircut I didn’t want

Yes, a haircut. I wanted long wild goddess hair. I swore I would never get the classic middle-age bob, but at 66, I’m beyond middle age, so I’m going in. Now I have what I hope is a stylish version of the haircut I didn’t want, and I love it!

I have such fine hair to begin with, and it is thinning as I get older. I think this cut makes the most of what I have. Sometimes you just have to accept reality.

With this cut, I gave up the tail. Meaning ponytail. I will not miss it. I was wearing my hair up most of the time because it looked so scraggly, and I won’t miss that, either. I will add a little care and maintenance.

I told my stylist I’m willing to spend 10 minutes a day on it, and I’m OK using a blow dryer. But I only want to use my head as a tool for shaping – no curling or smoothing tools, just blowing it back and forth and a little bit of a round brush to get the right look. I shocked my stylist when I said I would accept a haircut that required trimming every six weeks. She’s used to seeing me once or twice a year.

I got it cut yesterday and was stunned to wake up with great second-day hair. So, maybe 10 minutes every other day?

Now that I’m getting Social Security, I feel a little more generous with my spending. I mean, I didn’t really need those checks to get my hair done regularly, but something in me embraced the idea of a minimalist retiree who never goes to a salon. But I’m over that.

When she finished, I said, “Yeah, that looks like a woman ready to burn through her Social Security.”

It’s not really about the Social Security, although I do like to joke about it. Actually, I’ve been so sick of all the miserable news in the world, and the new kitchen lifted my spirits beyond anything I ever expected.  

Except for golf, I’ve been holed up for two years, and even if it’s another two years thanks to the Ohmygod variant, I decided it’s time to make more of an effort. In some form or fashion, I aim to rejoin the land of the living.

I even pushed back my cuticles and buffed my nails. Filled in the bald patches on my eyebrows. And got dressed in real clothes just to hang around the house.

Living large.

Kitchen before and after

Before
After

The kitchen and downstairs flooring project is finished and looks great. We are exceedingly happy with the results, but the process wore us out.  

I confess to having insecurities about our design choices. I know someone somewhere will say, “Whatever were they thinking when they did that?” I can actually hear the voice of my late mother-in-law as I type those words.

But at the end of the day, we like it a lot. The choices suit our aesthetic and our cooking habits. We hope to ride out eternity in this house, and at least we’ll finish up with a nice kitchen.

A few features:

  • All the drawers and doors are “soft close.” I love that!
  • Most of the lower cabinets were converted to drawers.
  • The old island could not be used as a counter, mostly because there was no room for knees. This is a new island, and we can now use it as a counter. It’s nice to sit there and talk to the chef.

We kept all our appliances, which we installed when we moved here about four years ago. Sure, the big commercial-style cooktop would have been nice, but that would have seriously jacked up the price of this project. We’re happy with what we have.

Contractors completed final details late in the afternoon on the day before Thanksgiving. Both of us were kind of stressed, and it’s my contention that’s what led to some minor cooking failures.

My new Emile Henry pie pan recommended by Nanci performed admirably, but my crust wasn’t short enough, too much water, I think, and the filling was a bit off. But I love that pan – no soggy bottom as Mary Berry would say.

Dale was supposed to cook the turkey in two stages – first, breast side down at a higher temperature, then breast side up at a lower temp. He accidentally reversed it, and when he changed the temp, he forgot to hit start, so the oven was turned off until he realized what happened. It’s delicious but overdone.

Leftovers will be recipes that put moisture back in. I love Jane Brody’s turkey carcass soup, which I make every year. We enjoy it with blue corn muffins on the side.

Now that we’re calming down, we’re starting to get our cooking mojo back. Dale made whole wheat bread for turkey sandwiches. The recipe made two loaves, so he gave one to the neighbors. Lucky them!

I made granola this morning and am making bison tacos tonight. We like to keep a stash of them in the freezer, and we depleted our supply during the remodeling. Tomorrow I’m making plum pudding, which will be our Christmas dessert. The steamed pudding gets better as it rests.

The recipe I use is from an ancient Parade magazine. I serve it warm with a simple hard sauce – basically whipped butter and powdered sugar. Jack Daniels is my whiskey of choice for both the pudding and the sauce.

My golf game tanked during the remodeling project. I played golf twice in five weeks, and for me, that’s a recipe for disaster. I have no natural talent – it’s all practice and play.

Now it’s time to get back to being retired. This week’s priority is golf!

About that 401K …

Our kitchen remodeling project is behind schedule, but they finish up today, so everything should be good to go for Thanksgiving. We have missed cooking so much and can’t wait to crank it up again.

Of course, we’re going to have a nicer kitchen, but being miserable for close to five weeks motivated us to get serious about having fun. We are out of practice.

Dale and I don’t have a big urge to travel, especially long trips by air, and COVID did nothing to change our minds. Still, we’re feeling confident we can scoot around California with moderate risk. There are so many beautiful places to see here, and we’ve done a whole lot of nothing for two years.

As it is with kitchens and travel, everything costs money. I’ll start collecting Social Security in December, and that should help fund some adventures. Additionally, we’re starting to talk about monthly withdrawals from what used to be my 401K but is now an IRA.

Although I was good at building a solid 401K, I’m less skilled when I think about draining it. I have found it difficult to make the mental switch from saving to spending. However, I may be ready. Not too many people in my family die of old age, so I’d like to enjoy what’s there.

We talked with Bob, our financial planner, and he encouraged us to get started … operating under the theory you can’t take it with you. Bob suggested we go with 4-5 percent. Ideally, your returns match or outpace withdrawals, so you don’t touch your principal. But with this market, who knows?

As a childless couple, we do want to spend our principal … just not all at once. I like the idea of “die broke.” However, I would like to avoid being alive and broke. But if that’s how it goes down, hell, yes, I would take it.

My car is 11 years old and in good shape, but I see a new one on the horizon. So, it will be good to start socking away cash for that purchase. I’m hoping my car goes another couple of years so I can see how the electric market shakes out. I’d like to go electric or plug-in hybrid. Any recommendations?

The biggest hurdle is getting over a bad case of COVID caution. Breakthrough infections notwithstanding, we’re both fully vaccinated and boosted and will most likely be just fine. We can’t live in fear forever.

Dining during demolition

Remodeling continues, but they are making excellent progress and should finish up by the end of the week. Between interactions with the contractors, we talk about food. When we’re not talking about food, we watch cooking shows.

We’ve had full use of our microwave and oven throughout the project. But no cooktop, no sink, no countertops. Our freezer was pre-stocked with leftovers, which we’ve mostly burned through. Lasagna, Chicken Pot Pie, Chicken Divan, Chicken Enchiladas, Lamb Rigatoni, Chicken Curry and Chicken Tetrazzini. Salads. Burgers on the grill.

It’s not like we’ve been starving!

Additionally, there are certain homemade foods we keep around at all times, and they are gone. Pizza, tacos and scones from the freezer and granola in the pantry. We will have fun replenishing the supplies. There’s one piece of coconut cake left, and it has my name on it.

When I retired, I got a few Starbucks gift cards, which I’ve hardly used. I’ve been driving over there in my jammies to get us each a large dark roast. Drive-thru, of course. At about $6 for the two, I’ve mostly drained those cards. The Starbucks employees I’ve encountered are quite cheerful and personable.

I had my first bite of fast food in more than 10 years. One morning I got us each a sausage biscuit from McDonalds. It was OK, but I’m good for another 10 years. We had sandwiches from Jersey Mike’s, which we like a lot. And takeout from a local Asian bistro. It was expensive and not very good.

As of Friday, our countertops and backsplash were in, and the cooktop, sink and dishwasher were functional. The kitchen is still not business as usual because they haven’t finished with the cabinet fronts, but the sink was a game-changer.

Contractors don’t come on Sundays, so it really is a day of rest. I wanted to play golf since I haven’t been able to play during the week, but instead I opted for a relaxing breakfast with Dale. At the beginning of the remodel, we had a couple of big-ass arguments, but we broke each other’s will worked through it and emerged closer than ever.

Maybe this was what we needed to get back to the basics of love. Our own little Luckenbach, Texas. I’m glad we got our issues resolved early in my retirement, as it bodes well for enjoying the rest of our time together. Counseling might have been cheaper but probably more painful.

Breakfast was bacon and toast, and it was bliss.

We are getting excited about Thanksgiving. Dale ordered a fresh Diestel turkey. He stuffs the bird with a seasoned potato, bread and onion mixture he grew up eating in Maine. Mashed potatoes and gravy, some sort of green vegetable. Pinot Noir.

Usually I make cranberry sauce, but we are doing something different this year. At Christmas, I often make a cranberry walnut pie. However, this year Dale has requested plum pudding with hard sauce. But we still want the pie, so I’m making it for Thanksgiving.  I thought it would be overkill to have the pie and cranberry sauce.

I’m still going to load up on cranberries for the freezer, as I love them in scones. Or scons, as Paul Hollywood says.

I hope the kitchen stories haven’t been too self-absorbed. But I guess it is what it is. The whole project has been an interesting retirement experience I wanted to share. However, if you are bored senseless, I expect to emerge from The Remodeling Zone later this week and return to our regular programming.

Something fun! We are ready.

The micromanager at home

Still knee-deep in the hoopla with regard to the kitchen remodel. In a surprising development, I’ve learned dust is like dry shampoo and makes my hair fluffier. Just another pro-tip from Dale and Donna’s cantina.

As far as dealing with contractors, the remodel brings out the overzealous project manager in me, the queen of rumination.

I’d like to introduce some corporate concepts. In my dream world, we’d have a communications plan that starts with a daily 8 a.m. stand-up. Wouldn’t it be nice to know what was happening? Who would be there and when?

Maybe a war room with the project plan taped to the wall. FAQs. Here’s a sample:

Q: What can I expect the first day?

A: Contractors will arrive at a designated time known only to them and immediately begin demolition. You won’t know what hit you.

Perhaps a lessons-learned meeting at the conclusion of our project? Oh, how I hated those. I mean, enough already. It’s over. But no, we all dutifully marched in for the dreaded hot wash. One of my co-workers said hot wash sounded so harsh. Why not call it a cool cleanse?

I believe Dale and I will be, enough already, it’s over. No hot wash for us. Go away and never come back.

And yet.

This project has been a bit of a wake-up call for me. While I was not a micromanager at work, those dark impulses decided to play out at home. We used to see it a lot in the kitchen, when Dale was cooking and I arrived on the scene to make sure he was doing it properly. And he is the better cook!

Fortunately for Dale, I backed off. But I still find myself offering guidance in all sorts of activities when he’s perfectly capable of figuring it out all by his own self.

The flooring is scheduled to be installed tomorrow. I have a doctor’s appointment, and I was going to cancel. Dale asked why. I said I need to be here to make sure he’s doing it right. Dale laughed, “Seriously, you know how to install floors?” I didn’t even tell him I read the label for the glue, just in case.

Ridiculous. I do think this is a control thing that got worse after I retired, and I have new appreciation for Dale being at the butt end of it. May I suggest those of with the tendency to meddle learn to back the fuck off?

Think of me as the advance party here to perform reconnaissance and report back from the field … a bit of intelligence to ease your retirement journey.

You’re welcome.

Kitchen makeover blues

We are getting a bit of a kitchen makeover – new cabinet faces, drawers and pull-outs, along with a new countertop and backsplash. Additionally, we’re replacing the floors downstairs. All of it is happening at once and all whilst we are living here.

In the kitchen remodeling system, the project affects two separate yet equally important people: The spouse who manages the crime, and the spouse who hangs around acting offended. These are their stories.

I’m the principal interface with the general contractor and sub-contractors. Dale is called in for decisions, as needed, but mostly he stresses over his space and schedule being disrupted. He can’t cook! Oh, wait. Neither can I. The kitchen has been demolished.

The biggest issue is the mess. They had to tear up a ceramic tile floor, and there’s nothing I can say to adequately express how gross that is. The noise, the dust – it’s a symphony of horrors. I believe the worst is over, but then I said that two days ago. Fumes come next, as they prepare to paint the cabinet bases.

A couple of nights ago, Dale and I had what we’re calling The Last Meltdown. He was annoyed with me for over-thinking everything, and I was annoyed with him for whining about how hard it is. We vowed we will not be each other’s problem. Laugh more, complain less.

We had quite the chuckle over this fancy kitchen and bathroom showroom we visited. It’s a national chain. Ferguson. We went the first time looking for a sink, and somebody basically pointed and walked away. We ended up buying our sink on Amazon.

Then I went to look at cabinet hardware. Almost everything I found on Amazon was hollow, and I wanted solid. I took pictures of cabinet bases, measured everything and made accompanying diagrams. See attached.

A woman behind a desk greeted me, and I said I was there to buy cabinet hardware. She walked with me to that area, explaining that nothing is in stock. Everything is special order. I asked how long that typically takes, and she shrugged. I asked if there was someone who could help me, and she said they don’t do design work. I said I just had a few questions, and she said she’d see if she could find a sales associate.

None of the hardware had prices. There was another couple looking, and one of them dismissed an elaborate cabinet pull for being too expensive. I asked her how she knew. She said you have to Google it. You come here, you’re on your own. The only benefit is that you get to see it and feel it in person. I took pictures of all the displays so I’d know what brands to consider.

No one ever came to help me, so I left. The receptionist who was supposed to find me a sales associate watched me walk out the door and didn’t bat an eye. I guess that’s a business model.

When I got home, I Googled all the brands, and they are spendy. But one of my searches took me to MyKnobs.com, where I found the expensive stuff but also reasonably priced solid hardware. My little diagrams helped me count up how many I needed and in what size.

I placed my order. We’ll see how long that takes.

The good news is the contractors have been great and seem to be doing high-quality work. I believe the end result will be fabulous, so I’m trying to keep my eyes on the prize.

We’ve had use of our microwave and oven the whole time and have been eating yummy food from the freezer. However, we’ve been bad consumers, using lots of disposable plates and such. I am amazed how quickly the trash builds up – yet another lesson to be good environmental stewards going forward.

Some things require real dishes. We have a plastic tub for the dirty ones, and Dale has been washing them outside every couple of days. Although other sinks in the house are operational, we didn’t want to get food bits in pipes without a garbage disposal. He has a system for heating up the water with one of those big propane things people use to fry turkeys. First soapy, then rinse. Throws the dirty water in the sideyard. It gives him something to do besides sulk.

We’re both in the remorse phase. At least we’re on the same side now. Our motives were pure. As retired homebodies who spend a lot of time in the kitchen, we wanted a nicer space for ourselves. It wasn’t even about resale. But at this point, we’re like, did we really have to do this?

But it’s too late now. The show must go on. We are fortunate that we can do it at all, and someday I can imagine us saying it was worth it.

But it is not this day.

If I had a do-over, I’d still get the kitchen done, but I’d leave the tile alone. God meant tile to stay there forever.

The Great Resignation

Have you been reading about The Great Resignation? Droves of people are quitting their jobs, much of it as a result of the pandemic. While lots of factors play into their decisions, including child care challenges, it sounds like workers have discovered the joys of a slower pace and aren’t going back until they find something with more balance.

You’ll notice I didn’t say work-life balance. In one job, I wrote talking points for the president of the company about his efforts to change the culture of the workplace. He asked me to “socialize” them with other executives, and one VP took issue with the term work-life balance. He said, and I quote, “Work is life.”

As for resigning, we get it, don’t we? One of the reasons I retired earlyish is because the rat race was wearing me out, too. But I was 62, and my husband and I had enough money saved to presumably last the rest of our lives. These are young people gambling with their futures … holding out until employers bend.

I’ve never understood why 40 hours a week isn’t enough. In my last job, you were expected to put in at least 50, preferably more. My boss had some sort of document readily accessible on her smartphone that could instantly tell her who was putting in the most unpaid overtime … and who wasn’t.

She would check on weekends to see if your Instant Messenger light was green, which usually meant you were online and working.

Granted, I was highly compensated, but my hourly rate was down there with fast food. Not really, but you like to think you’re paid more because you bring extra value, not because you are willing to give up having a life outside of work.

Fast food reminds me of a funny story.

We had just returned from working abroad, and I interviewed for a job at an insurance company in Columbia, S.C. They made an offer, and I countered.

I made more money than that at my last job working in Egypt.

Well, that was overseas. You can’t compare us to overseas.

I made more money than that when I lived in Alabama.

Well, that was aerospace. You can’t compare us to aerospace.

I accepted the job anyway, but when I later told the story to a coworker, he said his response would have been:

I made more money than that when I worked at Captain D’s.

Well, that was fast food. You can’t compare us to fast food.

That story still makes me laugh.

Anyway, I want the workers to find their bliss, but I can’t say I have much hope. I suspect they’ll enjoy some time off, run out of money and once again be at the mercy of the man.

It’s a tough predicament, and I have no love left for what’s become of the workplace, but I have some amazing memories and am still exceedingly grateful for all my experiences.

And the money. Oh, and retirement. Definitely retirement.

Move over, tuna

A sample of premium tinned fish.

Ever since I wrote a post about sardines and decided they don’t scare me anymore, I’ve been on a quest to sample what’s available. They’re super-good for you, they’re sustainable and I was surprised to discover I like them!

We love anchovies, especially Ortiz, and we’ve always had a can or two of Beach Cliff sardines in the pantry. Those were my starter sardines. Don, a reader, commented that he liked King Oscar. I hunted those down – found them at Safeway – and they were indeed delicious.

Then I bought a cookbook, The Magic of Tinned Fish by Chris McDade. What a fantastic book! Many of us view tinned fish as snack food, but Chris makes the case for using premium products mostly from Spain and Portugal in a wide variety of dishes home cooks will appreciate.

The book includes a page with recommended brands, as well as websites where you can purchase these specialty items, but I wanted to see what I could find at my neighborhood grocery stores. I had to shop around, but I found Matiz wild-caught sardines in olive oil, as well at Cole’s wild mackerel in olive oil.

The Matiz sardines are absolutely fantastic. My new favorite brand. Sometimes the other brands look almost beat up, but these are plump and pristine. The taste is perfect. I ate them plain, right out of the can, but I can’t wait to try some of his pasta recipes.

Next, I wanted to try the mackerel. The author makes the case for abandoning tuna, which is over-fished and not sustainable. Dale, who grew up in Maine, was skeptical. He said mackerel is oily and fishy, and I was not going to like it.

Chris, the author, says you can use mackerel interchangeably with tuna fish, and he also features it in recipes, including pasta, salads and soups. I made simple mackerel salad today. Just some mayo and diced pickle, and it was delicious. It tasted pretty much like tuna. Dale was shocked at how good it was.

Prices vary, but the better stuff costs more. At my store, a 5-ounce can of Bumble Bee solid white albacore in water was about $2.99, while a 4.4-ounce can of Cole’s mackerel in olive oil was $3.99. A 3.75-ounce can of King Oscar sardines was $2.59, while the 4.2 ounce can of Matiz sardines was $3.95.  

I’m not banning tuna from our household, but I can see myself substituting with mackerel on a regular basis. I would definitely buy the King Oscar sardines again, but those Matiz sardines are quite special.

The cost seemed reasonable to me, but some tinned fish can get pricey. Fresh, in some cases, is cheaper. Still, I like the idea of having fish in the pantry, and over time, I would like to try the premium brands of smoked trout, smoked oysters, squid, mussels, whole clams and octopus.

In other snobby food news, this article from the Washington Post says there’s a champagne shortage. If you have a favorite for the holidays, start looking for it now.