The pleasures of being ordinary

Is it me, or is there a hint of joy in the air? Call me crazy, but it’s kind of fun not to be so pessimistic about the election. And it’s always a bonus when ignorant sound bites turn into humorous t-shirts.

I mentioned I’ve been out and about more than usual. The big reveal is that I was on jury duty for the better part of a month. We finished our deliberations yesterday, and I am free again. They said we can now talk about the case, but I’m done. I’ll just say it was a criminal case featuring child pornography, kinky sex and other details I’d prefer to forget.

Aside from the case itself, hanging around the courthouse is no picnic. We had a lot of downtime waiting for things to get going, and the slice of life that paraded past was grim at best. One woman in a cute orange outfit and chains saw us piling into the jury room and yelled, “You’re all going to hell!”

The whole experience made me appreciate the pleasures of being ordinary. And grateful for my privileged and drama-free retirement. When’s my tee time? What’s for dinner? No interactions with the police so far. My sex life may be boring, but I’m grateful 12 jurors, three alternates and a gallery full of spectators will never have to hear about it.

So, after a brief pause to admire my life choices, I return to the bubble. I’ve sort of kept up with my strengthening exercises, but it has been hit or miss, and I’m happy to get back to my mindless routine. I went to the driving range and hit some balls. Swimming tomorrow. Pizza. Maybe a movie.

Just ordinary stuff.

Just another childless cat lady

It has been a few weeks since I’ve written, and I don’t have any excuses. You know, just another childless cat lady, making poor choices, doing what we do.

In spite of my shortcomings as a fertility goddess, things are remarkably good. Although I think Joe Biden is an excellent president, I believe he did the right thing by dropping out of the race. For the first time in months, I’m optimistic.

Is anyone else feeling it?

Kamala is bringing new energy to the election, and she  has my full support, even if it turns out she likes dogs better.

I had my annual oncology appointment, and while I’m not afraid like I used to be, it always feels great to walk out of there with a clean bill of health. It has been 25 years since my first cancer (ovarian) and nine years since the second (breast).

This time they asked me to see the nurse practitioner instead of the doctor, and although it felt like getting demoted, I understand the doctor has to prioritize. I don’t have active cancer, and I’m sure she’s got a boatload of people who do. I asked the nurse practitioner if I even need come anymore, and she said yes, mostly because I’m BRCA-positive. Lots can go wrong on the genetic front.  

Sadly, I am due for a colonoscopy, but my primary care physician will make that referral when I see her for my annual physical in August.  I’ve heard there are some new and better ways to do the prep, but I don’t believe any of that applies to me, since I am at higher risk.

I have been out and about more than usual for reasons I’ll go into later. And much to my surprise, wearing something besides golf or workout clothes has been rather enjoyable. I haven’t cared about fashion in years, but I’ve made an effort to look put together, and it makes me feel a little more with it, if you know what I mean. I still don’t want a job, but I’ve been thinking about other activities that might give me a sense of purpose.

The shoes I wore to work have all been purged. I still have some boots left, but everything else is Hoka or Birkenstock, so I’ve been wearing my “dress Hokas.” They look nice with my favorite pants, a tee and a denim jacket. I’m calling it retirement chic. It’s still hot outside, but I need the jacket for air conditioning, which always freezes me out.

I’ve even been blow drying my hair (since it’s not stuffed under a golf hat) and have had a lot of compliments on the cut and color – my natural silver. I’m so glad I gave up the dye.

So, I sort of like having somewhere to go besides the golf course, but I assume that could get old fast. But we shall see. In the meantime, I need to go brush the cat.

Happy 4th of July

Well, July came screaming in like a mofo. The election, the Supremes, extreme heat, power outages and Bones reruns no longer on Freevee. Even the episodes I’ve already watched. Gone as of July 1 unless you pay. I’m starting to believe in conspiracy theories.

When the going gets tough, it’s time to finally buy a Vitamix and hunker down with smoothies. Mine arrives today. Just in time to save me from myself.

Dale, who is also in a funk, is thinking about an immersion circulator – sous vide. He hates the stress of getting a steak exactly the way we like it on the grill, and this method takes a lot of the guesswork out.  

Such bougie little solutions to world-class problems, but there you have it. To quote the Pet Shop Boys, happiness is an option. I can honestly say I stayed happy throughout my cancer treatment 25 years ago. I chose to be happy then, and I choose to be happy now.

Maybe it’s the heat, but I had a craving for watermelon. I’m usually disappointed in melons, so I rarely buy them. And then they’re so big. But Safeway had a smaller chunk of one cut and wrapped, and it looked really ripe. That was my breakfast this morning, and it was delicious.  

Dale is a recovered fireworks junkie. He loves all things that go boom. His dream is to be adopted by that family that implodes buildings. But he backed away after we got cats, and fireworks freaked them out. Fireworks are illegal in our county, but that never stopped him in the past. The stories I could tell. But I won’t. Not sure about the statute of limitations.

OK, sure, since you asked nicely. This one shouldn’t get him in trouble. We were living in Alabama, Huntsville to be exact, and he had a stockpile of the biggest baddest fireworks available on the open market. Maybe the black market, too. I’m still not sure.

It wasn’t even dark when he started firing off pyrotechnics in the front yard, and that escalated as the evening wore on when he and two brothers down the street we called The Darryls started trying to outdo each other. Beer was involved. The street looked like a war zone.

The police came, and as I recall, Dale stuffed wads of fireworks down his pants and politely told the cops he didn’t have any. Just enjoying the holiday with his family. In the front yard with piles of smoky debris and empty beer cans.

I think the policeman said something like, sure, buddy, but it’s over now, got it? And Dale said something he apparently rehearsed many times over, “Yes, officer.”

I’m not sure what happened to The Darryls, they’re probably still in jail, but the festivities came to a screeching halt. It wasn’t the first time we had to clean up the street in the morning, but it was the last.

We have no special celebration plans, but we will eat well and won’t be blowing things up.

For dinner, Dale is grilling what we call Hunk-O-Lamb. I’m making tabbouleh, which is a bulgar wheat salad mixed with spring onion, tomatoes, mint and parsley and then tossed with an olive oil and lemon juice vinegarette seasoned with some dried herbs. Oh, and fresh corn on the cob. Perhaps a Zinfandel.

It will be hot, but we still might eat outside. Once you get all that food in you and your body is heated up, it’s nice to cool off in the pool before bed. It’s all part of the live well no matter what strategy.

Happy 4th of July. Or happy Thursday if you’re not from these parts.

The sound of silence

Although I did not watch the debate, I read about it this morning. Trump’s lies and Biden’s lackluster performance did not make me regret my decision. It doesn’t look good for Biden, but I’m still hopeful the American people will not see fit to put a monster like Trump back in office.

I know some very kind and intelligent people who are Trump supporters. Once we learned where everyone stands, we quit talking about it to preserve the peace. At first blush, silence sounds like a poor solution, but you know, it’s not all bad.

When we were younger and actually had friends, we seldom discussed politics. We were more into partying back then, and most get-togethers focused on food, drink, music, travel and sports. I can’t remember even thinking about how someone might have voted. Seems kind of quaint now.

That’s the brighter side of being a party animal. Now we’re crusty old homebodies with deep dark thoughts about the future of democracy. Not sure that’s an improvement, but it’s easier on the liver.

Anyway, life is good beyond worrying about things I can’t control. My exercises have gotten quite robust, and I’ve split them up so on any given day I’m only doing half of them. Most body parts are cooperating with the new regime, but my left knee is part of the resistance. Some of my newer exercises strengthen the quadricep, and that will theoretically help the knee.

Because the knee bone’s connected to the thigh bone …

All of it has improved my golf game, and it has been fun to play well. Our four-woman team kicked butt in the Hawaiian-themed event. It was almost surreal. We all showed up in our matching outfits but forgot to take a picture! I said, well, it’s hard to be good and cute. One of the women, a younger golfer who has a great game and a bit of swagger said, actually, it’s not.

Loved that! If I ever had swagger, I think I lost it sometime in the 90s.

July is looking to be a hot one .. a good time to tune out political rants, savor the sound of silence and hunker down with a good book. I loved Clete, the new James Lee Burke novel featuring Dave Robicheaux, although this one is told through the voice of his sidekick, Clete. Hence the name. I’ve read all the books in the series, and this is one of my favorites.

I’m currently reading A Walk in the Park: The True Story of a Spectacular Misadventure in the Grand Canyon by Kevin Fedarko. It’s a grand adventure story, hilarious and chock-full of interesting information about the Grand Canyon. The author also wrote The Emerald Mile, which is thoroughly entertaining account of a speed run down the Colorado River in a dory boat. That book also has a great historical perspective.

Next up is Randy Wayne White’s One Deadly Eye featuring marine biologist and ex-NSA agent Doc Ford of Sanibel Island. I’ve read all in the series, and they are always a treat.  

Happy reading!

Good retirement problems

I haven’t been to the mall in years, but I needed either white shorts or a white skort for a golf thing where teams like to wear matching outfits. The things I do to be sociable.

It’s a Hawaiian theme, and my sister said you aren’t going to wear a plastic lei are you? I said, oh, yes I am. She howled and wants a picture. Fat chance that.

The mall was a complete waste of time. Call me crazy, but I would think this is the peak of white shorts season. They were nowhere to be found. A couple of white skorts were on display, but they looked short enough to display your hoo-hah.

Home I came for a meeting with Dr. Amazon. I guess we brought this on ourselves, but it seems you really do have to go online for anything. I bought four skorts in different styles and sizes. All on Prime, so I was thinking I could send back the ones I don’t want or all of them if need be.

Panic shopping this week is not my idea of fun. Still, I know this is not a bad problem in the hierarchy of problems.

Good news … one of the skorts arrived this morning, and it fits!!! And it’s a little longer, so no hoo-hah action. The event is Wednesday, and I’m relieved that monkey is off my back. The others arrive tomorrow, so we’ll see if I like any of them better.

Our club is hosting this event, so it’s a big deal, and we all have jobs (in addition to playing). One of mine is to sell mulligans at the welcome table. My sister said, you? Handling money? Geez, so I stumbled a bit with geometry, but I can make change. Oh, and build a retirement portfolio, if that counts.

I’m still struggling with time management. I know important worker bees cannot understand how retirees can be busy, but it’s true. We just have different priorities. My priorities are food and fitness, but chores keep messing with my mojo.

We have someone coming next week to do the windows and screens, inside and out, but they don’t do plantation shutters. I decided to bite the bullet and do it myself. Instead of going after it like a maniac, as I might have done in my 30s, I made a list of all the rooms with shutters and am committed to doing one or two rooms a day. Then I check them off the list because it feels good to check things off the list.

My strengthening exercises take about an hour, and I’m whipped when I’m done. I missed some swim time because I just couldn’t muster the energy to go after completing the exercises. What I’ve learned is that I need to do the exercises early so I can have recovery time if I want to play later in the afternoon. On golf days, I just do a few of the core exercises when I get home.

I’ve been neglecting my art, and I miss the creative process, so I need to make time for that. Then there’s food. Yesterday I made a double batch of my favorite juice – celery, apples, black grapes, spinach and lime. I freeze them in 4-ounce bottles. Also, a batch of peanut butter cookies for the freezer. Indulgent, but healthier than store-bought!

Oh, and bread. I’ve been feeding my sourdough starter for a few days, and he’s ready to go. I’ll make the dough later and let it rise overnight. Then it does a second rise tomorrow morning in the banneton. I suspect it will go in the oven around 10.  

The question is what to have with it. Good bread will not go to waste at our house, but I like to pair a fresh loaf with something special. We have some fabulous beef stew in the freezer, but it doesn’t really feel like beef stew season. Although our air conditioning always feels like Ice Station Zebra to me, so stew could work.

BLTs with farmers market tomatoes would be yum, but I don’t think they’re ready yet. Minestrone or some other kind of veggie soup would be good. See? This stuff takes time.

Not that I’m complaining. I feel fortunate to be alive and able to enjoy the simple pleasures of retirement. It took me a long time to figure out how to manage my work life, so I guess it’s no surprise it takes a few years to manage life after work. All in all, not a bad problem to have.

Uncoupling for a few days

After my big spiel about staying safe in the heat, it got beastly hot, and I played a rough 18 holes of golf. I got away with it, mostly because I used all my gear, including a solar umbrella, a battery-operated fan, a spray bottle of water, a cool towel and tons of fluids. That said, I felt weak and dizzy, and I should have stopped. 

I spent the next day resting and guzzling more fluids, and I felt OK after that. I vowed to be more careful going forward. Theoretically, I should be getting smarter about this stuff.

Shortly after, I went to Santa Cruz for a few days of golf with the girls. Quite the opposite weather on the coast. Dag, it was cold! But I was prepared. My knit cap and windbreaker were coveted by many. I did my best to keep up with my exercises but some require resistance bands and weights, and that just seemed like a bridge too far.

We played golf three days in a row, which is unusual for me. I wasn’t sure how my body would hold up, but I didn’t experience any pain at all and am pretty happy about that. I do think the strengthening exercises are helping in lots of different ways.

I’ve never been a big fan of cherries, but one of the women brought a bag for the trip, and they were delicious. I bought more at the farmers market today and made a smoothie with almond milk, cherries and almond butter. Yum. The tomatoes aren’t ready yet, but we can’t wait. That’s a whole season’s worth of happiness.

On the reading front, I highly recommend Sipsworth by Simon Van Booy. It’s a short novel about a lonely old woman who befriends a mouse. Just a great little story that will leave you feeling good.

The mouse in the book is very sweet, and he inspired me to have a talk with our cat about his demeanor. Riley was a rescue, but he’s been with us for, gosh, I don’t know, eight years? He still acts like we’re trying to kill him.

I asked Riley to be a little more loving. He won’t get on the bed to say hi, but I guess that’s not all bad. He’ll get in Dale’s lap once in a blue moon but not mine ever. He’s longhaired, and I groom him, and he doesn’t make a fuss. All in all, Riley is a good boy, and he’ll let me pick him up and smooch him. Uses his box. Doesn’t scratch stuff. Pukes now and again, but who doesn’t?

The book also made me think about vegetarianism. If you have an animal companion and wouldn’t think of eating him, why is your little friend more special than other animals you gladly consume?  I enjoy meat, but I could see life without it. However, I wouldn’t give up cheese unless it was a life-or-death situation.

Dale and I frequently throw that out for discussion – which would you rather give up? Meat or cheese? Easy for me. Meat. He’s a cheesehead like me but more of a carnivore and definitely on the fence.

We drive each other crazy much of the time, but Dale is still my favorite person, and he says I’m still his. However, I believe breaks are good for relationships, and we haven’t had many of those since I retired. Togetherness can be too much of a good thing. This time, I was gone four nights, and it was a nice vacation from each other.

As your official retirement confidant, I would definitely recommend retired couples periodically schedule solo trips.

I had a great time in Santa Cruz, but I’m glad to be home hanging out with Dale. It might be my imagination, but I think Riley is happy the family is back together again. Maybe that little talk we had did some good.

Nothing a little therapy wouldn’t help

In the category of strange but true, I won a golf tournament! Previously, I’ve placed in my flight and stuff like that, but this is the first time I’ve finished first overall. The prize was $40 and bragging rights.

Regular blog readers will know competition is my nemesis. I usually have this sense of being judged and struggle with confidence, especially after a poor shot. It’s like, oh, yeah, I knew it all along. You suck. At everything. You’re not worthy.

Nothing a little therapy wouldn’t help, but I believe retirement has helped me overcome my fears. With no job status to bolster my self-esteem, I’m learning that being a decent human being and living a good life is plenty. I’m more comfortable with myself and with the ups and downs of the game. I even said to Dale the night before the final round, you know, I’m not scared. I’m just going to play the best I can and enjoy the challenge of trying to make that ball do what I want.

For me, that’s progress.

I’ve always said my brain is the weakest part of my game, so I definitely think the change in mindset helped me play better. I’m also giving credit to the physical therapy regime aimed at strengthening my core. I’m guessing you are all sick of hearing about that, but seriously, this is a big deal for us aging Boomers.

Although I’ve exercised regularly for many years, I never paid attention to the core. Cancer and two major abdominal surgeries didn’t help. But I’m 10 weeks into working with a PT, who gave me a series of exercises to do at home, and it’s life-changing.

Not only is my lower back and knee pain pretty much gone, but I feel more stable even when I just move around the house. I’m definitely stronger in the water when I swim, and now I’m seeing results on the golf course. I’m not sure how it all works, but I guess a stronger core increases stability, and that translates to more power in the swing.  

I get it – not everyone is a golfer, but I’m starting to believe a stronger core is the secret to any kind of an active life as we age. The exercises are tough but worth it. I’m 68 and think of this work as an investment for my 70s and 80s.

All this learning did not prepare me for the photo opp. Granted, this was after 18 holes of golf, but a blow dry in the morning with a little product would have fixed that frizzy hair. It seems I will have to make more of an effort in the future.

You never know when you’ll win something.

Dancing with protein powder

While I’ve known for some time older adults need more protein in their diets, I assumed I was getting enough. But when I finally sat down to figure it out, it seems I was woefully shortchanging myself.

My physical therapist recommended 1 gram of protein per kilogram of body weight. I weigh 135 pounds, which is 61.2 kilograms. In rough numbers, that means about 60 grams of protein per day. Other research says adults over 50 should average about 75 grams per day. 

I found it challenging to consume that much in my normal diet, so I decided to dance with protein powder. Ready-to-drink protein shakes are an option, but I avoid processed food. As for the powders, many are sweetened with Stevia, which gives me diarrhea. That’s why I went with the unflavored variety. 

There are different kinds of protein powder, and I choose whey isolate. From what I’ve read, whey protein isolate is considered the gold standard for muscle growth, as it’s a complete protein, and it’s quickly absorbed. I randomly picked this particular product, and I’ve been quite happy with it.

Although I love fruit, I didn’t want to fool around with traditional smoothies. The powder is pretty delicious just mixed with milk, vanilla extract and a little maple syrup. That’s about 25 grams of protein all by itself. I might have that if I’ve skipped lunch and need to eat something but don’t want a meal.

However, my favorite recipe is hardier and includes other ingredients that boost the protein count and add flavor and nutrients. I drink this maybe three times a week for breakfast. I’m still focusing on my complete diet because I love food and there are lots of tasty protein options out there. The powder is merely a supplement.

The two biggest variables in the drink are Greek yogurt and milk. I’m a big fan of whole milk dairy products and normally don’t worry about calories, but for something I’m going to consume frequently, I figured it was better to go with nonfat. Interestingly, nonfat Greek yogurt is slightly higher in protein than the 5 percent variety.

I include olive oil, because it’s good for you, and I like the taste. It adds calories, but I think it’s a worthy trade-off. You could easily omit it.

As for milk, all kinds work – dairy, soy, almond, oat. I’ve experimented with dairy and almond. I like them both. Dairy is higher in calories, but it’s also higher in protein. I’ve been defaulting to almond, but I might mix it up from time to time.

One of the things I love about the recipes without fruit is that I can mix them up quickly with an immersion blender and my favorite tall measuring cup. Seriously easy clean-up. I rinse the head off and let it dry on the rack. The cup goes in the dishwasher.

Here’s my go-to breakfast drink:

In a tall measuring cup add: 1 cup unflavored almond milk, 1 scoop unflavored protein powder, about 1/3 cup or 75 grams nonfat Greek yogurt, 1 tablespoon almond butter, 1 tablespoon maple syrup, 1 tablespoon olive oil, 1 teaspoon vanilla extract. Whiz with an immersion blender and enjoy!

My calculations put this at 470 calories and 38 grams of protein. Using dairy milk pushes it up to 515 calories and 45 grams of protein. 

As I said, I’m no expert and certainly don’t want to come across as preachy, but I figure most of us want to stay healthy and age well, and we can all learn from each other. I’m doing a lot of core strengthening exercises in my physical therapy, so presumably more protein will help me build muscle, but that will take time. Same with building bone density.

It seems like nothing good happens overnight, so I’m in for the long haul.

The heat is on

We’re finally at the point where everyone starts complaining about the heat. That means the weather is just how I like it.

I’ve lived in famous hot spots, including Southern California, Texas, Alabama, South Carolina and Egypt. The Sacramento area can get pretty toasty, but comparatively, it’s minor league.

However, this is the point where I must modify some of my golf protocols. I experienced heat exhaustion once playing golf in Texas. Heat exhaustion is no joke, so this is my official warning to be smart about hot weather.

My number one tip is when it really gets beastly, do everything in the morning. I hate getting up early these days, but sometimes you’ve got to do it. The good news is you get done early and have time for a nap!

It’s not that bad yet. First thing is to dig the windshield sun shade out of the rubble in the garage and put it in the car. I forgot last Friday, the first real hot day, and wowser, that steering wheel was hot when I finished my round. Also, crack open the windows a tiny bit for air flow.

Cell phones are another issue. I don’t take mine with me when I play because I find phones very annoying on the golf course, but I need to turn it off if I leave it in the car. My phone started to overheat on Friday and went into that mode where it starts shutting down apps.

And then there’s my rig. I have a nice pushcart with a solar umbrella and a cup holder for a big bottle of water. I put a couple more bottles of water in a cooler that straps on. Included in this luxury set-up is a “cool towel” and a battery-operated fan. Oh, and a spray bottle with water. Spray some water on your face and stand in front of the fan — it’s like outdoor air conditioning.

Finally, I need to make sure I actually drink all the water and supplement it with an electrolyte drink. If I’m a little dehydrated, I can get leg cramps at night. A fellow golfer taught me a trick that is quite odd but very effective! Eat a spoonful of yellow mustard. It’s like a miracle.

Speaking of miracles, physical therapy is going exceptionally well. I’m there for my back, which is feeling great, but I have lots of creaky body parts. We’ve discussed my wrists, which I broke in 2010. Two visits to the hand doctor, and he says there’s nothing wrong with them, although I do have thumb arthritis.

Last week, the PT asked if anyone had ever done – something – and now I can’t remember what. But it involves manipulation, so I said no, no one has touched them. He said areas with past injuries can “lock up.” He did kind of a painful massage and then wrapped it in a thing that looked like a rubber Ace bandage. I flexed my wrist back and forth with that on, and then he took it off and said I was good to go.

I asked if I would need ice, because, dag, that little routine hurt. He said maybe but probably not. Anyway, it’s incredible how much better it is. Seriously unbelievable. I’m expecting him to do it again this week, and then I will have to learn about the long-term plan. I don’t suppose he can move in with us, so we’ll need to entertain some options.

Although I resisted physical therapy for a long time, and even after starting it, I thought about quitting, now I’m glad I stayed the course. Sometimes you need a little help.

While I do comment on politics from time to time, I try not to get crazy with it. There’s plenty of that to go around. But I hope you will allow one old lady retiree to say something about the latest NY Times report that Trump may owe the IRS $100 million in taxes.

First, I hate tax cheats. All of them. Because they steal from us. All of us. Dale and I dutifully pay our share without regret. It’s how our society functions.

We currently live on Dale’s military retirement and both our Social Security checks. We have not yet dipped into our investment accounts, which did very well under this so-called miserable economy. We had to pay the feds an extra $9,000.

Which we did without bitching about it, because those are the rules. Remember? Society functioning? It’s not just about you.

While I’m at it, there’s the issue with the Social Security trust fund running out of money in 2033. Congress is talking about future options, but I have not seen a discussion about raising or eliminating the cap.

You aren’t required to pay Social Security tax beyond the wage base limit, which is currently $168,600. That means all these people making the big bucks don’t pay anything after that. This whole problem could be solved by raising or eliminating that cap. Why isn’t anyone talking about this option??????

Full disclosure: I was one of those people who benefited from the cap, and it wouldn’t have killed me to pay a little more.

On the food front, I finished my last piece of birthday cake frozen from September! I needed to get that off the radar and make room for Dale’s birthday cake.

He turns 75 next week. I haven’t made cake for him in a few years, but the one he likes is called Chocolate Creole Cake, a recipe I received from my friend Beverly in Pennysvania. The recipe is in her handwriting, and it makes me nostalgic. Does that happen to anyone else?

Anyway, it’s a dense chocolate cake. Between the two layers is a filling of walnuts, pecans, raisins and dates made into a thick spread with sugar and evaporated milk. Then whipped cream goes on top of that. Add the other layer of cake and frost it with a spread made from melted semi-sweet chocolate and sour cream.

I love desserts, although I’m careful not to overdue it. However, I will say this. All the people who say, oh, it’s too sweet. Crazy talk! Savory food is different, but if it’s meant to be sweet, in my book there’s no such thing as too sweet. Nothing is too sweet for me. Nothing.

Less food, longer life?

Yesterday’s New York Times featured an article about calorie restriction and intermittent fasting – and whether they increase longevity in humans. It seems to work in animals, but they’re not so sure about people.

Part of the problem is cutting calories by 25 percent or more is difficult for mere mortals. Animals in cages don’t have a choice. Plus, there’s not enough information out there to confirm whether these tactics will help you live longer.

While I want a long and healthy life, I want to enjoy it with delicious food and can’t see going through all that deprivation just to sneak in a few more years. I always love the comments section, and readers did not disappoint. Here are some of my favorites:

  • For years I’ve eaten one vegetarian meal a day at lunchtime with a small snack in the evening. Now I’m almost ninety in excellent health. What has it gotten me? The chance to meet the coming Apocalypse.
  • I have restricted my caloric intake by 10% (but cutting added sugars), and practice intermittent fasting (16hrs;8hrs) 100% of the time. My triglycerides went down by 50%, and I reduced what little bit of joy remains in my life by nearly 90%.
  • If a person reduces her caloric intake, will she live longer or will it just seem longer?
  • The bottom line: Who knows? My 95-year-old mother has been overweight all her life, is still mentally sharp, lives independently, and looks about 80. Her skinny mother died at 63. I’m just hoping these things don’t skip a generation.

I said I wasn’t going to dwell on my back problems, because I know, it’s like, take a number, pal. But I’m hoping readers will appreciate progress reports on my treatment in case you are in the same boat. I’ve done a lot of work on the mind-body connection and how emotions impact our perceptions of pain, and I do believe that helped, but it’s not enough. Surgery and prescription drugs are options I’m hoping to avoid, so my current program is physical therapy.

The MRI of my back looks like a high school science project. I’m still not convinced they know what causes the pain, but so far the medical professionals have zoomed in on severe spinal stenosis at L4-L5. Most of my pain is not in the back, but in the left buttocks and down through my left leg.

It has been six weeks, and the first five were grueling. As I’ve previously reported, the exercises are designed to strengthen my core and presumably take pressure off the back. A month in, and I saw no noticeable improvement. I only hung in there because my massage therapist said I seemed more flexible.

At the start of week six, I suddenly noticed my butt didn’t hurt. Everything else is feeling pretty good, too. It’s quite possible I have stomach muscles. I feel more solid, if that makes any sense.

No Tylenol, no Advil. I complained to the PT that some of the exercises make my troublesome knee worse, and he threw in a couple more exercises he said would help both my knees and my back. One of them is lunges, which I thought would make the knee worse, but to my surprise, I’ve seen a remarkable improvement.

My plan is to keep going. I figure this is my big chance to do whatever I can to mitigate my symptoms long-term, and I don’t want to squander it. The PT said he would add some weights in at the appropriate time, and I’m excited about that. Not really excited, I guess, but I like the idea of increasing muscle as I age.

These exercises take about an hour a day, so I’ve just come to accept it’s one of the mandatory tasks associated with my new job – which is taking care of myself in retirement.

In irrelevant but possibly interesting entertainment news, I discovered a moral dilemma as I was watching TV. Warning – spoiler alert.

I subscribe to PBS Masterpiece and decided to try watching The Royal Flying Doctor Service. A woman doctor recovering from a messy breakup moves to Australia to work with the team that provides people in the remote Outback with medical care.

First day on the job – unknown, unproven, etc. and she beds one of the guys on the team. I’m anything but a puritan, but I was deeply disappointed and haven’t watched any more of it. I mean, that’s just bad form.

However, I also started watching Bones from the beginning. She’s a genius forensic anthropologist working with Booth, a hunky FBI agent, to solve mysteries of human remains. You can see where the relationship is going, so I cheated and went to the episode guide, only to discover it all happens in Season 6.

I’m at the beginning of Season 2, and now it’s like I’m on a mission to catch them in the act. I don’t know why I was so judgmental about the flying doctor but can’t wait for Bones and Booth to get this done already.

Such is entertainment, which beats politics hands-down. However, you know me, I can’t resist a political jab. If the Supremes say  the president has unlimited immunity, we are all in trouble, and it won’t matter who is or isn’t having sex on TV.

In closing, I offer up the following AI video for your viewing pleasure.