These selfies are awkward. I’m no good at them and wasn’t going to do it anymore, but there seemed to be a strong interest in how to re-purpose pieces of your work wardrobe for retirement style.
As always, I am at your service. Plus, I like showing you don’t need reconstruction after a mastectomy to wear stylish clothes. I apologize in advance if it turns out the fashion chronicles aren’t your jam.
This is my purplish Brooks Brothers blazer I bought post-mastectomy. I want to keep it because it’s hard to find jackets for a flat chest, and this one is perfect.
The little pockets in the front add dimension without without wearing what are commonly called foobs … nickname for fake boobs. I have never bothered with them. Didn’t even get fitted.
I rolled up the cuffs and pushed the sleeves up a little. Underneath is a simple cotton tank, and these are denim shorts I bought shortly after I retired. The sneaks are new. Birkenstocks or other comfort sandals would look great. I went for sneaks because they hide my golf tan.
Call me crazy, but I think it’s kind of cute. I’m usually cold in air conditioning, so the jacket would be handy if/when we should ever go out again.
If you’ve got any blazers from your work wardrobe hanging around, it’s worth a shot to see how you can pair them with shorts or jeans for a more casual look.
Fraud
In other news, I’ve been dealing with credit card fraud, and I’m just going to say it in my outside voice … sorting this out has been one giant cluster fuck. I hate my bank. I hate criminals.
On the bright side, I learned how to buy gas with cash. You go in! You tell them what pump you’re at, and you hand over the money! I was down to about a quarter of a tank, so I just took in $40 to make it easy.
I felt strangely successful and thought, well, maybe this is how I’ll do it from now on. Kind of retro. And you know what they say. Cash is king.
I’ve always been opinionated and have a well-documented history of wanting to be right and willing to prove it, but now I find myself deep in the ease of retirement, enjoying the simple pleasures of disengagement.
Every time I get a desire to weigh in on some burning issue, I think, “What good would come of that?” Sometimes I’ll say something anyway, and I almost always regret it. Lately, I’ve gotten better at saying less, and you know what? Life goes on.
For example … I saw a LinkedIn post about safety in the workplace. The author said, “Too often, safety is the privilege of a few – not a right enjoyed equitably by all.” Somebody commented there was no correlation between safety and privilege, and I was about to jump on it, explaining, for example, how women are not safe in the same situations (walking alone at night, a hotel room on the ground floor) where white male privilege somewhat shields them from the same fears.
Then I asked myself that important question. What good would come of that? I stayed out of it, and when I went back later to see what transpired, that person’s comment had been deleted. Time marched on without my input.
Last week, I mentioned to a golf buddy that California was currently lowest in COVID cases in the continental United States. A full week later, he tracked me down in the parking lot to show me statistics he pulled up on his cell phone clearly showing California had the highest number of cases in the U.S.
OK. Got me, except I said currently not cumulative, but c-words are tricksy. And maybe I misread something. Who knows? I opted for the quick escape, “Oh, interesting, thanks!”
For a third example, I begrudgingly attended a golf rules clinic, because golf is all about the rules. I only want to know enough to avoid someone else giving me a bunch of crap because I did something wrong. However, in my infinite stupidity, I mentioned to another golf buddy that I attended a rules clinic.
He asked if I learned anything. I said, yes, lots, but it’s hard to remember them all. Oh, but sure, let me dig for an enticing tidbit.
Yay! Here it is! Fresh off the memory merry-go-round!
One surprising thing was about teeing your ball up in the teeing area. If you purposefully make a swing at the ball, and it dribbles off the tee but remains in the teeing area as defined by the rules of golf, you count the stroke, but you can still tee it up for your next shot.
No, that’s not true.
Well, I probably got it wrong. It was a lot to process. All I know for sure is there was a difference between if the ball stays in the teeing area or rolls out of the teeing area.
But you said you get to tee it up.
Yes, but I retracted that comment. Now I’m saying I don’t know.
That seemed to satisfy him, but when I got home, I looked it up. As it turns out, I was right, and I started to copy the rule and text it to him for his further edification. But what did I do instead? I asked myself a simple question. Say it with me.
What good would come of that?
Because I am not a rules expert and don’t aspire to be one. Why would I set myself up for that argument? My regret is bringing it up in the first place. And even if I were to make this mistake again, there’s still an exit strategy. When he asks me what I learned, I say, “You know, I can’t recall.” And then I laugh. We all laugh. Because the rules of golf suck.
The final reusable straw came this week over food. The website Epicurious will no longer post new recipes using beef because of the impact cows and beef consumption have on climate change. I started to go down the slippery slope of engagement, when I read through all the comments on the New York Times article.
As is often the case, there are more than two sides, and I can pretty much understand each perspective. But anything I might have said has already been said. Plus, not everyone is as genteel and reasoned as I, and the discourse can be quite snarky.
Who needs that? I know there are important issues that will sometimes demand I step up and take a stance. And I’ll do it. But most of the time, my presence is not required.
In the meantime, I’ll just kick back and work on improving my retirement skillset – blissful disengagement.
A pencil skirt from my working days finds new life.
What’s left of my career clothes came back from the dry cleaner, and now I am beginning to play dress up so I can decide whether to keep or donate them. First up was my unlined tropical wool pencil skirt. I wrote earlier it was gray – must have been on the nip that day – as it is black.
In an attempt to style the skirt for casual wear, I paired it with a white t-shirt, cropped denim jacket and turquoise jewelry. Kind of simple, but that’s how I like it. The only thing new are the shoes. I went with sneakers. Not only comfortable, but they also hide my golf tan!
For walking, golf and pretty much everything else, I wear the Speedgoat trail running shoe from Hoka One One. I just purchased this limited version in white for “dress.”
Perhaps I would wear this out for lunch or dinner, if that should ever come to pass. Wine tasting or visiting a museum? I guess anywhere you’d want to improve upon leggings.
Although I’m not much of a fashionista, I think if you wear skirts, this outfit could be flattering, regardless of size or shape. The jacket has a camouflaging effect. As for me, I don’t try to hide my post-mastectomy flatness, but I like how the jacket adds dimension.
It seems to me a white tee, denim jacket and white sneakers would look good with just about any seasonless skirt in your closet. Now that I’ve decided sneakers look OK, I can see all sorts of possibilities.
I played golf with some women I hadn’t met before and afterward, we sat socially distanced around an outside table and enjoyed a cold beer. Soon enough, the topic turned to faces and what to do about them as they age.
One woman was an advocate of Ultherapy. She goes annually and pays between $3,500 – $5,000 for a procedure to tighten everything from the décolletage up. The process is painful, she said, and they give her Valium before, during and after. But you walk wobble out looking good.
The other woman was furiously writing notes on her scorecard. She could definitely see Ultherapy in her future, but for now, she was sticking with Botox. I mostly listened, but then I asked a question.
While in the waiting room at the dermatologist for my skin cancer check-up, I overheard a woman talking about some sort of point system, and she wanted her points carried over from a previous provider. What’s up with that?
According to my fellow golfer, points are part of a rewards or loyalty system for Botox and other injectables. The more the merrier!
I’m in no position to judge, but the whole discussion made me sad nonetheless. I mean, life with all its trials and tribulations, and it all comes down to this? Wrinkles? Messing with your face?
Somehow, I think the prettiest girls – the cheerleaders and the beauty queens – have the hardest time accepting the inevitable ravages of age. I was the weird kid with bad teeth who wore men’s corduroy bedroom slippers to school, held my fork like it was a weapon and wrote poetry in spiral-bound notebooks I kept under the bed.
It’s a miracle I’m walking upright. But like good whiskey, I’ve aged well.
Nobody at the table asked me what I did about my face, because I’m pretty sure they could see the answer would be nothing.
Not that I am without vanity. I like clothes and care about how I look overall. In fact, I’ve been thinking more about how I am going to re-purpose my work wardrobe. I have some ideas that may be in the category of corduroy slippers, but I’m willing to give it a go and may even post the results on this very blog.
I might have to consult with one of my young fashionista friends – they always tell it like it is.
cold-weather comfort food
With some rain expected this weekend, the temperature is supposed to drop into the low 50s, and I think of it as the last hurrah for cold-weather comfort food. And yes, I know 50s is not cold. We call it California Cold.
I’ve been keeping a list and crossing them off as we cook our way through:
Stuffed cabbage
Macaroni & Cheese
New England Baked Beans
Venison Meatloaf
Beef Stroganoff
Porchetta Pie
Chile Verde
Moussaka
I love eggplant, so I lean toward moussaka, which is a casserole made with ground lamb, browned eggplant, tomato sauce, grated sheep’s milk cheese and bechamel on top. Dale likes it, but not as much as I do.
Nostradonna predicts Dale will vote for porchetta pie or chile verde. I love both, so it’s no big deal one way or the other. I make the pie, which is actually several freeform savory tarts made with chunks of pork, pancetta, carrots, onions, fennel and fresh sage.
Dale makes the chile (along with homemade flour tortillas). He usually roasts the tomatillos and chiles outside on the grill, so rain may alter those plans. An alternative would be his Texas-style chile, made with chunks of pork and beef in a rich sauce and no outside grilling component. We love the chili topped with grated cheddar cheese, finely diced onion and buttered saltines on the side.
My neighbor made fun of me teased me about being busy, so busy, as she said in a not completely flattering way. I’m not sure where that’s coming from, but yeah, my days are full. Not stressful but busy and fulfilling in a good way.
Granted, golf sucks up a bunch of my discretionary retirement time, but so does cooking. All those recipes! What to make? And then shopping for ingredients and actually getting in the kitchen to weigh, chop, bake, roast, simmer and sear. And then being forced to eat such deliciousness.
An old stone fence on a trail that runs along a ridge above our neighborhood.
Although I’ve been an avid walker for many years, Dale likes to run a couple of miles and get it over with quick. In the past, he’d walk only when he needed to catch his breath while running. I could rarely get him to accompany me on a walk – sometimes a hike through the woods, but that was rare.
Somewhere along the line he decided to start walking more. After all these years, it’s like a mini-miracle. We live in a neighborhood with all sorts of trails, although the maps leave something to be desired. As a solo woman walker, I’m careful and follow the advice shared with the two young lads in American Werewolf in London:
“Stay off the moors! Stick to the road.”
Of course, they didn’t stick to the road, and the rest is werewolf history. So far, I’m safe.
But Dale has been exploring. He came home all excited and said he wanted to take me on a hike that starts on an obscure trail near the end of our street. So that’s what we did yesterday. He said the narrow path was steep, and he didn’t get good traction with his running shoes, so he switched to hiking boots.
I wore my regular trail running shoes (even though I don’t run). I also took along some trekking poles to help with balance. They also take pressure off the knees.
The surprise came at the top of the ridge, where there was an old stone fence that seemingly stretched forever. Crusted with moss, we guessed the fence was more than 100 years old. Probably used to keep cattle from wandering off.
It looked like the trail continued down the ridge to connect with another trail I do frequent, but we weren’t sure and didn’t feel like hiking down there only to find ourselves with another uphill trek.
What a surprising walking buddy! I never saw it coming, although I will have to be careful and let it unfold at Dale’s pace. Note to self … this does not mean we start training for the Camino. Still, over the weekend we’re going to check out the maps and see if we can figure out where the trail goes. Or maybe we’ll just go for it.
Sometimes surprises are right around the corner. And just when you think you know a person, they change. Change is good.
Time to retire work clothes?
We’ve talked about this before. Many of you have already dumped your work clothes, but I can’t quite make the leap.
Instead, I inventoried my professional attire, and I’m actually proud of what I put together to wear my last few years on the job. I hated the suity-suity look, but I managed to create a timeless wardrobe true to my personality and appropriate for my mostly business-casual work environment. I focused on seasonless fabrics in solid neutral colors so I could mix and match without buying more clothes than I needed.
Jackets were the greatest challenge after my mastectomy. Since I didn’t opt for reconstruction and am as flat as a 10-year-old boy, I found that anything with darts was a nonstarter. Dresses were also out. I favored skirts and pants with cropped baseball-style jackets in a variety of good quality fabrics.
It was not easy or cheap. I liked Brooks Brothers. The good news is everything still looks great and fits beautifully. I was like, damn, I did good! In retirement, I find those jackets in white, navy, khaki and black, are easy to wear with jeans and other casual looks.
Here’s what’s left of work attire that’s harder to re-purpose. Everything is tropical weight wool.
1 navy blue skirted suit
1 purplish tailored blazer
1 gray pencil skirt
1 gray skirt with pleats
1 pair black slacks
The next step was to take them to the dry cleaners. I haven’t been near a dry cleaner in years, so I actually had to hunt one down! If I donate or consign the clothes, at least they will be clean.
Here’s what I’m thinking. I only have one suit, which I saved for interviews, trips to Corporate, etc. It never hurts to have a classic dark suit in your closet. The slacks are perfect black pants, and I could see wearing them out and about with a t-shirt, denim jacket and boots. The blazer fits me perfectly, flat chest and all. Perhaps I could wear it with jeans or the black pants for a special occasion.
That leaves the two gray skirts. I love them both, and I felt so good putting them on and checking myself out in the mirror. It has been a long time since I’ve seen me in anything but workout clothes or jammies. Purging dress shoes was one of my first bold acts of retirement, so I Googled pencil skirts with Birkenstocks, and yes, such a thing exists.
Even if I can pull it off, where would I go dressed as such? The colder months would be easier, as I could always go with black tights and some sort of comfy shoe. All that to say I’m still on the fence about the skirts. Maybe I should get rid of them.
What do you think?
All-clear from the dermo
Now that I’m catching up on appointments, I visited the dermatologist for what I call the big naked look-see. I drew his attention to a couple of spots, which he identified as maturity. Everyone’s a comedian.
He said my skin looked great, whatever I’m doing, keep doing. I’m of Eastern European descent, and even after years of sun worshiping with baby oil and Bain de Soleil, I’ve fared quite well.
Still, as a BRCA-positive two-time cancer survivor, I take nothing for granted. I am outdoors a lot, mostly playing golf for more than four hours at a time. One of my golf buddies (one of the pink people) is out for a couple of weeks following the Mohs procedure for cancerous cells on his face.
Even with my darker skin, I have already had my lifetime quota of surgeries, so I take cover. I spray my legs with sunscreen and wear SPF 50 on my face with a large-brimmed hat. I have a UV-blocking umbrella and wear these shoulder wraps under my golf shirts.
While I do swim outdoors, I only swim for 30 minutes two or three times a week, so I don’t worry too much about it. If it got to be an issue, I could wear a UV-blocking rash guard.
All in all, retired life is still good, COVID and all. I do feel like we are at the beginning of the end of the pandemic. Maybe not, but that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
Some of us chose retirement, and others were squeezed out or forced out of jobs earlier than they had hoped. Or maybe it got so bad you just said, screw it, I’m out of here.
If you’re still sad or angry about what happened to you at work, perhaps it’s time to accept and forgive. Here’s my spin on it. Almost like a variation of Festivus with the airing of workplace grievances. It helps to laugh.
Even though I made it to the finish line relatively unscathed, I had one awful job toward the end of my career that left me feeling quite bitter.
I try not to think about it much, but last week I was digging through files on my computer looking for an old picture of me with adorable hair, because you, know, the struggle is real, when I found a folder marked MFR.
What was this? I double-clicked, and there it was. A detailed chronicle of the one job I’ve tried to forget. A Memorandum for Record is what I called it – a long and painful documentation of bad behaviors and harassment that pretty much left me crying every day for a year.
As I read through my notes with fresh eyes, I finally realized it wasn’t all about me. I was caught in a web of complex corporate norms and cut-throat politics.
There were bad actors in high places, weak lieutenants and one low-level sociopath who lived on the blood of destruction. Everyone else operated under the theory that only the whale that surfaces gets harpooned.
In the end, I came out whole, better than whole, so I decided to accept and forgive. I just said, this is it, no more. Bitterness is not an emotion I want to live with. And I’ll say this, something about letting go just makes you feel better in every way. I feel lighter. A weight has been lifted.
True, there’s no forgiveness in my heart for the sociopath or the person who provided top cover, so acceptance will have to suffice. I decided to just accept that what happened happened and release myself from the internal drama … almost like being an observer, watching the whole thing from afar. As a result, they no longer live rent-free in my head. That seems like a fair trade.
Anyway, that’s my perspective, and I guess it applies to just about any negative emotions we can’t quite dump. Maybe we can move on if we keep trying.
Enchilada Sauce
As promised, I’m sharing Dale’s recipe for enchilada sauce. We freeze it in small tubs and use it for enchiladas … hence the name. But we also use it as a sauce for huevos rancheros or combine it with chunks of browned chicken to make a filling for various tortilla dishes.
2Dried Aji Amarillo Chili PeppersOptional, but they add nice flavor and heat
2Canned Chipotle Chili Peppers in Adobo
1tspAdobo SauceFrom the canned chipotles
3 Cloves of Garlic
1/4 cupDiced Onion
1tsp Cumin
3cups Chicken Stock
1tblspLard
Instructions
Seed and stem the dried chili peppers. Put the peppers in a saucepan, cover with water and bring to a boil. Turn off the heat and let them sit for 10 minutes. Drain.
In a blender, combine the peppers, adobo sauce, garlic, onion, cumin and one cup of the chicken stock.
In a saucepan, melt the lard and add the blended sauce. Cook over medium heat for about 10 minutes, slowing adding the remaining two cups of chicken stock.
The Widow Badass and Retirement Reflections are hosting a virtual dinner party and What’s on Your Plate Challenge for the month of April. I feel like I’m getting something wrong, but here goes.
First, I hope the acronym WOYP is OK. It’s not like WordPress charges me by the character. More like a holdover from my days in the aerospace industry. They never met an acronym they didn’t like.
Dale and I enjoyed this Kabocha Squash Red Curry from Food Network’s Geoffrey Zakarian. This is the second time I’ve made it, and I love it more than ever.
The curry is basically chunks of Kabocha squash stewed in spicy coconut milk and topped with cilantro, peanuts and pomegranate seeds. This delicious concoction is served over rice.
We like spice and heat, so I was quite generous with the garlic and added a chopped serrano pepper along with the carrot, onion and ginger. Geoffrey says 45 minutes to reduce and thicken the sauce, but I think 20 or 30 is plenty. I like my squash with a little bite to it.
I also went ahead and squeezed the lime juice ahead of time and added it to the curry until I got the balance right. Oh, and may I say pomegranate seeds in the little tub from the produce section are a gift from heaven?
Finally, I just made regular long-grain rice. It was great, but I might not even make rice next time. The coconut milk broth is so divine all by itself. I hate anything but my mouth soaking up that succulence.
The curry freezes well, although the squash does get a little mushy. Trust me, it doesn’t matter.
Homemade sourdough toast and scrambled eggs made with extra egg yolks leftover from another recipe.
It seems like most of the advice about retirement is to keep working. Experts cite financial and health benefits, as well as the ongoing need for people to live with purpose. Apparently, only a job provides such purpose?
Of course, I disagree work is the solution for most of life’s woes, and I’ve been toying with the idea of penning an op-ed about the case for retirement. I’m still fleshing it out, but my basic premise is that we add layers and layers of accommodations and behaviors to earn a living, and we start to believe that’s who we really are.
Or perhaps we just accept who we’ve become. The workplace is a powerful force, but everything changes if you have the financial resources to exit.
Retirement can be the opportunity to discover or re-discover who you are when nobody is watching. I’ve been searching for a metaphor. The first one that came to mind is of a snake shedding its skin. Snakes shed their skins because they are growing, and the old skin no longer fits. That sort of applies to how we evolve in retirement, but I think it misses one key point.
If it’s true we add layers to survive, then shedding them over time returns us to our natural state. That’s not how it works with snakes, so I’ve been trying to think of another metaphor. Perhaps we are more like furniture being stripped of multiple layers of paint to ultimately reveal the lush original wood.
I’m several layers away from exposing bare wood, but I’ve been blowing some dust and cleaning up a lot of paint chips. I want to see what’s underneath.
Are you morphing in retirement? How would you describe it?
Extra gluten, please
Bread porn.
I love, love, love making sourdough bread. I believe Gollum, my starter, has grown stronger with time. The bread has a tangy sourdough taste, and it rose higher this time. More kneading reduced the size of the holes, and I’m learning to score the bread with crisp lines.
Bread baking started out as a pandemic hobby, but I’m in for the long haul. Now that I kind of have the process for basic sourdough locked in, I’d like to experiment with variations. Thank goodness neither one of us has gluten issues. That would be a bummer.
Awhile back I suggested I might try making croissants. I studied the Cook’s Illustrated recipe and video, but it just seemed a bridge too far. I finally did subscribe to the NY Times cooking section, and they just posted a different recipe for croissants.
The Cook’s Illustrated recipe makes 22, which seems rather ridiculous. The NY Times makes eight. That sounds more manageable to me, so I might give it a go.
The secret to better cuticles
I’m getting a pedicure today. I’m as immune as I’ll ever be, and everyone will be masked up. I honestly don’t know why I care so much about my toes, when my hands and fingernails look absolutely horrible.
My cuticles are the worst in the world. But I have discovered the secret to better cuticles. It involves a soapy water and a sink full of dishes.
Dale made macaroni and cheese this week, and the mess was horrendous. Lots of extra stuff that wouldn’t go in the dishwasher, so I washed a lot by hand. My cuticles softened up, and the dry stuff came right off.
And no, this does not mean I’m signing up to clean Dale’s messes. However, his mac & cheese might be worth it. Not gooey like some – lots of extra sharp cheddar cheese but still firm.
By the way, I still owe you a recipe for Dale’s enchilada sauce. Coming soon to a blog near you.
Dale, my husband and wine tasting steward, at our first outing in more than a year.
Prior to my 1999 cancer diagnosis, I did not have many creative hobbies outside of work. My interests were mostly physical. We were avid scuba divers, and I was a competitive racewalker. Oh, and golf, the crack cocaine of hobbies.
Cancer and therapy helped me realize there was more to life than work, and I vowed to broaden my horizons. I saw Martha Stewart’s beautiful cookies decorated with royal icing and sanding sugars, and I thought, I could do that! Two large bins of cookie paraphernalia later, and dozens of cookies cutters organized by season or theme, I still love making decorated cookies.
Then I started an online business selling golf shirts with embroidered logos designed by me. After a couple of years, I broke even. One smart thing I did was trademark my business name. Somebody else with deeper pockets wanted the name, and I ended up assigning the trademark to them for $50,000!
Next, I started a blog – Rock the Silver – about embracing gray hair. And because I couldn’t help myself, I sold t-shirts with the logo! I did that for about six years, until my job became increasingly demanding, and I just couldn’t do both.
Work sucked my creative juices dry, and I didn’t take up much of anything new until I retired. First the blog – Retirement Confidential. I figured this would be a journey worth writing about. Then I started playing around with ceramic coasters. Then woodburning. And my food fixation has never abated. We are both avid cooks and love experimenting in the kitchen.
Since I retired, I’ve learned to grow cannabis and make cannabis tincture, cannabis balm, naan, English muffins, scones, baguettes, no-knead rye bread, a variety of savory pies and sourdough bread. The next thing on my list might be melt-and-pour soap. For Christmas, my sister-in-law gave me a bar of soap made by a friend of hers who is an organic dairy farmer. I can’t believe what a difference it makes on my skin, especially since we’re all washing our hands so much. I thought, well, maybe I should just make some?
I have a book from the library, and I’m studying soapmaking for now without making any purchases. Although it’s a relatively low-cost hobby, I sent plenty of shirts to the landfill, so I’m now careful to approach all activities with caution – not just about the costs, but how much specialized equipment is involved? Do I have room for it? Or is this just a passing fancy? I only go all-in on hobbies I think will stick.
And that’s the thing. I’ve always tried to put a name on whatever affliction this is. On this very blog, we have discussed renaissance woman, dabbler, polymath and dilettante. I’ve also seen serial hobbyist.
Yet another word I just discovered is multipotentialite … pronounced multi – potential – ite (rhymes with bite). The term was coined by Emilie Wapnick, who hosts an entire website for multipotentialites, sometimes referred to as multipods.
The word multipotentialite is a mouthful. But I sort of like it.
Much of the website is how to earn a living when you are distracted by so many interests. It has made me wonder if that’s why my jobs were mostly disappointing – it just isn’t my nature to do one thing. As I look back, my father was a super-creative multipotentialite, but he struggled with actual work. Perhaps it was his example that helped me find the strength to tough it out.
I’m somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, which might also explain why I was able to hang in there job-wise. I like variety, but too much of it can be overwhelming.
For many of us, becoming overwhelmed by too many interests is the biggest threat to having balance in retired life. Sometimes I’m like a ball of frenetic energy, but if I take on too much, something slides through the cracks, usually household chores, and that unsettles me. I also need idle time with absolutely nothing on the schedule to just hang around and let my brain wander.
While much of the content about multipotentialites is about finding a way to focus your talents and earn a living, those of us who made it to retirement have different challenges. If you are driven by varied interests, chances are you are plenty busy, but are you doing what matters most? What matters most to you?
As a multipotentialite retiree, you’re probably going to go down a rabbit hole or two or three, and that’s part of the joy in being who we are. While you may not need the laser focus of someone in their earning years, I think it’s important to periodically hit pause and re-balance your fun portfolio. As Dale says, you can make work out of anything.
I’ve decided to cut back on golf, postpone soapmaking, write more and plan lots of pandemic-safe outings with Dale. That still leaves me plenty of time for art, cooking, walking, swimming, reading and tending to my cannabis plant.
I started swimming again now that I’m fully vaccinated. A little stiff in my behind, but I take that as a sign it’s good exercise, so I’m glad I’ve resumed. I still don’t use the locker room, instead sliding off my wet swimsuit from under the canopy of a swim poncho. I’m sure the whole thing looks pretty weird to someone who might be observing.
By the way, those are swim shorts drying on the rack. Best invention ever.
This is a busy week on the tour, as Dale calls my golf schedule. I’m playing Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday! I usually don’t do that, but the weather is getting nice, and that makes the game so much more fun.
I’m still only playing courses I can easily walk. I prefer to walk anyway, but the cart policies aren’t consistent. Sometimes they have one person per cart, but other times they run out and hang a piece of plastic between the seats. No, thank you.
Most of my playing partners are also older and fully vaccinated, so I’m more comfortable chatting a bit during the game. And there might even be a beer outside afterward!
Scratch-made or store-bought?
When I start to goof off more, there’s a direct hit to our food supply. We routinely make a lot of “staples” from scratch, and all that takes time. Some foods are what I call situational. Depending on the day, the dish or whatever – we might make them from scratch, but we might use store-bought as well.
The situational list … sometimes scratch-made and sometimes store-bought … is long. The list includes chicken stock, beef stock, tortillas, bread, English muffins, naan, pasta, salad dressing, mayonnaise and barbeque sauce. Additionally, Dale makes pizza from scratch nearly every Friday, but occasionally we will order out.
I was rather surprised by the list of so-called staples we always make at home and never purchase from a store. We don’t do it to save money. It’s mostly about the purity of ingredients and taste. We pretty much ate this way pre-retirement, but it’s a whole lot easier to manage the cooking schedule without that pesky job getting in the way of progress.
And there’s always the art of compromise. I used to make my own yogurt, but my failure rate was high, and I was wasting ingredients. I buy yogurt now, but I select plain to avoid the added sugar. We always use dried beans for refried beans and most other dishes, but we sometimes use canned beans for quick-cooking soups, stews or casseroles.
In the spirit of sharing, here’s the never store-bought list:
Cookies
I’m sure someone is saying, oh, really? You never buy cookies? We don’t. We really don’t. Waste o’ calories, in my opinion. I have three go-to cookie recipes, and I keep a rotation of them in the freezer.
Salsa
Dale makes three kinds of salsa – green chile, jalapeño and scorpion pepper. As you might guess, store-bought isn’t zingy enough for us.
Spaghetti Sauce
We do buy canned tomatoes, but they are used to make sauces from scratch. A simple sauté of carrots, onions, garlic and tomatoes makes a wonderful pasta sauce.
Enchilada Sauce
Dale makes chile sauce from dried Ancho peppers, garlic, onion, etc. We freeze it in small tubs and use it mostly for huevos rancheros and enchiladas.
Breakfast Cereal
Although I love the taste of packaged cereal, it’s mostly packaged junk. I refuse to eat it and make my own granola instead.
Soup
I always have several pint containers of homemade soup in the freezer.
Pie Crust
Mine is not always perfect, but it’s always delicious, and I can’t imagine buying it pre-made from the store. This includes pastry crust, as well as graham cracker crust.
Guacamole
Easiest thing ever to make. I only learned this year to put a just-ripe-enough avocado in the refrigerator, where it hangs on way longer than you could imagine.
Hummus
I like to cook a pound of dried chickpeas and freeze them in small containers (in their liquid) to use in dishes like hummus and chana masala. I’ve eaten and enjoyed store-bought hummus, but I have never purchased it myself.
Pesto
Another easy pasta sauce. All you need is a bunch of fresh basil, pine nuts, garlic, parmesan cheese and olive oil. Whiz in the food processor.
Croutons
We keep leftover French bread in the freezer. Defrost, cut in cubes, toss with butter or olive oil, season with salt and bake in the oven until crisp. I make them on demand when we have Caesar salads, so I’ve never tried re-freezing them or storing them long-term.
Scones
I always have homemade scones in the freezer. Current supply includes cranberry and raspberry.
Rotisserie Chicken
I don’t recall ever buying one. Dale roasts a whole chicken in the oven. I prefer it to fried chicken. I also love the leftovers. I just froze four servings of chicken enchiladas made from leftover roast chicken, homemade tortillas and homemade enchilada sauce.
