Riley, who has been on lockdown for five years. He believes in the science of being cozy.
I’ve been trying not to think about the state of the union, but that might prove to be impossible. Just as I breathed a huge sigh of relief when Joe Biden won the election, Trump and his cronies dug in deeper to spread misinformation about election security, and the man himself refuses to accept he lost. Oh, and purging non-loyalists, denying access to transition resources.
The list goes on, and all of it concerns me, a retired 65-year-old military veteran and non-radical citizen who just wants decent people representing us. Yes, I care about specific policies and lean left, but I’m OK with a diverse selection of elected officials as long as they are not amoral sociopaths. I’m looking at you, Donnie.
As I stewed over this train wreck of politics, it occurred to me I am trying too hard to look the other way. I’m getting better at intellectual distancing – in that I can think about the mess we’re in and not internalize it too much – and I believe it’s a sign I can absolutely pay attention and share my observations from time to time without going nuts inside.
Just because we’re getting older doesn’t mean we have to disappear quietly into that good night. There’s a lot to talk about … and plenty of room left for art, reading, golf, outdoors, cooking and all the other fun stuff that makes for a happy retirement! I very much appreciate your readership and hope you enjoy the balance of topics.
I wonder (not worry) about what’s next. I already feel better knowing Joe Biden will be our next president. We have a ton of social, medical and financial challenges, but the flat Earthers will have to take cover when science matters again, and we’ll have four years to see if we can turn this ship around.
It will not be easy. I miss pre-Trump Republicans. Some of them might have looked beyond their own agenda to do what’s right for America and her allies. Now I wonder how Trump’s sycophants will fare once the ex-president has faded from the scene.
People like Bill Barr, Lindsey Graham and Mitch McConnell – they sold their souls. But perhaps there are others who will see the light once Trump isn’t looming over them like the grim reaper.
Call me crazy, but I’m feeling optimistic about the future.
Flash-freezing individual pieces of pumpkin cheesecake before sealing up for storage.
Retirement Dreams
I’ve had weird retirement dreams lately. Most are variations of the same basic theme. I’m working at my old job but wondering why there isn’t more money in my bank account. Did they forget to pay me? Then I realize I wasn’t working at all and haven’t had a job in three years. I wake up happy.
The others involve business travel. Packing, unpacking, getting to the airport, hauling luggage, missing flights, attending conferences, team-building. More of a nightmare than a dream.
Trust but verify
The weather has turned cold by California standards – and I’m going through my annual period of shock. I’ve maintained membership at the health club, where there are two large outdoor pools for swimming laps. I don’t use the locker room and have a swim poncho to cover up while I slip out of my wet swimsuit. All in all, pretty low COVID risk.
Last year, the “family” pool was heated to about 85 degrees in the colder months. The main lap pool is 78 degrees year-round. I loved the warmer pool and kept up with my swimming all winter. I wear a thermal swim shirt even in the warmer pool.
I noticed the family pool didn’t seem as warm over the past several weeks, but then it was still somewhat hot outside. I figured they are trying to save money since membership is down. Or maybe it’s just a little early to crank up the heat. I filled out a form inquiring about the temperature. Someone called me and said they would be heating it as per usual.
Although I wanted to trust, I also wanted to verify. Last week I swam twice, and it was barely warm enough for me. Now that it’s officially cold outside, I expect warm water. If they were going to raise the temperature of the pool, I figured it would take a few days, so I’ve been waiting. Yesterday was the test.
I am such a heat whore, and I knew the water would probably feel cool to me no matter what. But I also knew I could swim comfortably if it registered somewhere in the 80s. I packed my Thermapen!
The instant read thermometer was in the pocket of my poncho, and I walked to the edge of the pool. Dipped the Thermapen in, and got my read … 84 degrees! I had a great swim and look forward to continuing throughout the winter.
Dessert rules
Thanksgiving, as per usual, will be just the three of us – Me, Dale and Riley, our cat. Riley doesn’t like people food except for melted butter and tuna juice, so he’s easy. The main meal is consistent from year to year. Roast turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes and gravy, broccoli or green beans, cranberry sauce.
Dessert has fewer rules. But I make the rules, so it’s all good.
Last year, I made pumpkin cheesecake, and it was the bomb. Dale liked it a lot, but he prefers apple pie. I wanted pumpkin cheesecake again, but apple pie sounds particularly good for some reason. Then there’s that whole thing about making Dale happy.
It has been a tough year, so I’m going all-out indulgent. We will have both … because dessert rules!
Individual pieces of cheesecake freeze well, so I’ll make it next week and save those yummy treats for later. I should be embarrassed to share this, but pumpkin cheesecake is delicious for breakfast. Pie is less freezer-worthy, so that will be our dessert on Thanksgiving.
I always fret about which apples to use. Cook’s Illustrated likes a mix of Granny Smith and either McIntosh, Jonagold or Pink Lady. A lot of it depends on where you live and what’s available.
when chores go bad
I’ve been such a slug lately and decided yesterday to take care of a long-neglected chore. We had a small pile of broken appliances otherwise known as e-waste. A recycling station not far from our house accepts e-waste for free.
After loading up the car, I accidentally pushed the wrong button on the garage door opener. It’s a 3-car garage, and we use that smaller side for storage. Lots of stuff is propped up against the door, and when I pushed that button, everything went to shit.
I had to shove it all back in to get the door even partially closed. Then I headed off for the recycling center, where they informed me their e-waste bins were full. Might I want to head up the road a few miles for the recycling station in the next town over?
Sure. Upon arrival, I was informed their e-waste recycling bins were full. Then my head exploded. Then I came home to the big mess I made prior to leaving. I cleaned all that up and unloaded my e-waste from the car, making a tidy little pile on the floor.
What a relief to see Joe Biden elected president. And as one of the late night comedians said, what a year this week has been. I guess it was last week, but you know what I mean.
I like to think things are not quite as random as we suppose. Joe didn’t get the job in earlier years, because it was not his job. The universe was saving him for when we needed him the most. This time the doors opened.
I’ve had a lot of songs on the election results playlist that runs through my head. Among them:
When You Wish Upon a Star – Jiminy Cricket
Save The Best for Last – Vanessa Williams
A Change is Gonna Come – Sam Cooke
Waiting for the Miracle – Leonard Cohen
At Last – Etta James
Philadelphia Freedom – Elton John
Everyday People – Sly and the Family Stone
Any favorites on your list? By the way, I’m advocating Bruce Springsteen for the inauguration.
Our country is still a hot mess. But I am hoping someone sane and moral at the helm will drive positive change. Although I lean liberal, I don’t favor extremists of any persuasion. I’m thinking Joe can steer us toward sensible middle ground. There will be disagreements galore, but at least we won’t have all that hateful rhetoric spewing daily. No malarkey!
I NEVER watch political speeches, but I caved and watched Joe and Kamala. I cried. I do believe they are the right team for the right time. I loved how he said he would be president to all, not just his supporters. That always drove me nuts about Trump – only speaking to his base, as though he wasn’t president of the entire United States.
Is it too much to hope both sides will come together and give our country another run at democracy? That somehow Joe can help all of us embrace cooperation over divisiveness?
Dale and I had a lengthy debate discussion on how to pronounce Kamala’s name. It’s comma-la. Dale, as always, disputed my authority, and I had to produce reference material. Then he suggested my sources were not credible, so I finally had to find a video of Kamala saying her own name!
It’s not easy being us.
I still want to practice my intellectual distancing. Some of the more left-wing critics suggest the Biden win will let people like me “go back to brunch.” I’m not going to stop caring and doing what I can to help our country, but I do look forward to waking up everyday without this great existential fear about what Trump and his cronies have done while I was sleeping.
As for him, the reaction is pretty much what I expected. Earlier in the year, I had a vision it would be like the Wizard of Oz, when Dorothy accidentally spills water on the Wicked Witch of the West.
Look what you’ve done!! I’m melting, melting.
Ohhhhh, what a world, what a world. Who would have thought that some little girl like you could destroy my beautiful wickedness.
As I write this, results of the U.S. election are still not known and may not be for days, possibly weeks? But I will say this. No matter who ultimately wins, lots of Americans still think Trump is an OK guy, and I think that’s a sign I need to stop paying so much attention to politics. I’m not going to waste my happiness capital on something I don’t understand and can’t control.
I’ll still make an effort to stay informed about what’s going on in the world, but I’m going to practice intellectual distancing. Why not? I’ve already nailed social distancing.
The rhetoric will read to me as blah, blah, blah, and then I will move onto something else. I’m done reading about anything Trump says or does. Although I’d like to see him exit the way they did it at work when someone’s bad behaviors finally caught up with them – escorted out of the building carrying a single box of their belongings.
Although I’m not much of an activist, if a crisis or cause should need my help, I’m there. What I need to do is cut off my emotional attachment to the outcome. In other words, you do what you can. Sometimes things go your way and sometimes they don’t. But keep your joy flowing. Maybe serious activists already know this. They are probably masters are compartmentalizing.
Joy-Makers
In spite of everything, there is much joy to be had, especially in retirement, which I consider life’s grand gift. It’s that whole simple pleasures thing. I haven’t been anywhere other than a golf course or the grocery store since March, but it’s not all bad.
I’ve been golfing a long time, but who knew it would turn out to be a great pandemic activity? Golf has been a joy-maker for me. Somehow the pandemic helped me with my mental game. I’m not easily frustrated anymore and just enjoy the challenges.
After a day out playing golf, I so look forward to a day at home with Dale. Breakfast, coffee, a few chores. Dinner – always our favorite subject. Last night, he outdid himself. Cordon Bleu, which are pockets of pounded-out veal stuffed with ham and cheese and then breaded and pan fried. Homemade French fries and a salad. A crisp Riesling to go with. I’m gonna have to do my long walk today just to feel moral again.
Dale made a batch of kimchi, and it’s ready to eat after fermenting for about a week. We like kimchi fried rice with a runny fried egg on top.
I made a batch of scones in my new scone pan. They came out beautifully, but the scones needed a lot more cooking time to get browned on the bottom and evenly cooked. I’ve made some notes to the recipe, so hopefully, it will be easier next time.
In the old days, I thought cookbooks were sacrosanct. You didn’t deface them with your primitive scribbles. Now I scrawl all over them, because otherwise you can’t keep track of changes you’ve made to the recipes. My notes have saved many a dinner.
Another joy-maker is my woodburning art. I still have no idea where all these little treasures will end up, but I do love making them. And I continue to learn – not only about art but about myself as well. For example, I started a project using one of the darker pieces of wood. I wanted some boldness to play against the dark and started with sort of an abstract tree-shaped thing with big splotches of black and white.
I was loving it, when Dale walked by and said, “Oh, a cow.” That was the last thing I was trying to convey. So, I started to de-cow it by adding additional colors, and I ruined it. Although I wasn’t mad at Dale, I was mad at myself and threw the damned thing away.
But then it occurred to me I let someone else’s opinion shape my vision. For me, it’s hard, but you’ve got to trust yourself. My next piece will definitely have some cow-like pattern.
This last piece of art was hard because I was coming off my big cow mistake, and I didn’t want to screw it up. Plus, the wood was quite damaged and hard to work with. I was facing the dreaded dealing-with-imperfection crisis, when I remembered – that’s the whole point of burning and coloring messed up wood. It’s already messed up! Anything I do to it makes it different and interesting.
Messed up but different and interesting. If that’s all anyone ever said about me, I’d be happy.
No matter how this shakes out, I’m thinking the pandemic is going to have a big impact on retirees and future retirees. I’m a happy homebody with enough interests to amuse me for years to come and savings that can withstand a recession. I consider myself lucky.
The pandemic offered a sneak peek at what it’s like to spend more time at home. But COVID is not a frolicking gap year. You’ve got fear, sickness, death, loss, boredom, home schooling, aging parents, family squabbles, childcare and financial stress. For a lot of people, it’s like getting hit with a Sharknado, and their response is, Oh Hell No!
I’ll bet a lot of people who used to dream about retirement can’t wait to get back to work. Or their savings have taken a tough hit, and they need to get back to work. And then I wonder if the pandemic experience will drive them to stay on the job even longer and avoid retirement, not only to fatten up the finances but also to maintain six degrees of separation from all thing homey.
There’s something to be said for staying in the workforce. It’s that whole identity thing. I’m post-identity, livin’ the jammie lifestyle, but there was a time when one of life’s curveballs changed my connection to work. I was only 43 the first time I got cancer, and I was stuck in a boring job with no growth potential.
Once I recovered from cancer, I vowed to put everything into finding a new job so I could achieve my professional dreams. It took me five years of steady job-hunting, but I did it. And when I found that new job, a door opened and then another and then another. That one move led to a successful career I was proud of.
Then I got cancer again. By this time, I was in my late 50s. And this time I started to think about another way of life with less stress. Did I want to spend my precious time on Earth working for the man, or could I cut the electronic leash and learn to enjoy life’s simple pleasures?
I had a hard time coming to grips with my decision because it seemed so alien not to work and be totally focused on my career, but I decided to retire at age 62. Not exactly early retirement but earlier than I ever imagined. Three years later, I’m so happy I made the leap.
Illness definitely affected my professional timetable. My first bout of cancer woke me up to get serious about work, and my second bout woke me up to get serious about life. Perhaps the pandemic is another turning point – what will we do differently as a result of this experience?
As for me, I have a hard time making friends, and the pandemic enabled me to stay distant in every way! I’m looking forward to becoming more sociable. I’ve said that before, but this time it feels real.
With so much alone time, I’ve learned I can go long periods without talking. I’ve always been such a blabbermouth, and I like this quieter side. Perhaps this new-found skill of talking less will teach me to listen more – and that will build on my goal to become a better friend.
The only other thing I thought of it is some sort of volunteer job. I’d like to contribute in some way beyond charitable giving, but my motives aren’t totally pure. I have a closet full of cute work outfits that haven’t seen the light of day, and after a year in jammies and workout clothes, I thought it would be good to get dressed up once a week.
The U.S. election has been particularly brutal this year. Of course, I’ve made no secret of my utter disdain for Trump. I fear the worst if he is reelected. However, I’ve read conservatives fear the worst if Biden is elected. Both sides have deeply seated emotions that are on full display and propagated in news outlets and on social media.
It got me thinking about how things used to be. I seem to recall my parents did not tell each other who they voted for, although I remember a Goldwater bumper sticker on the car. That was just posturing. Who you actually voted for was your own private business. Dale said his parents were the same, and he only learned his father was a Democrat years after he died.
Even after a stint in the Army and 20 years as an Army wife, I can’t recollect any serious political conversations with friends or colleagues. A bit of social commentary for sure, but we mostly talked about beer, food, family, work, travel, music, romance and sports. It was fun.
Back when we were having those get-togethers, we assumed no one was exactly like us, so we made an effort to find common ground. With the internet, a lot of people found their tribe, and now they don’t want to socialize with anyone who doesn’t think, act or look like them.
It’s all quite tiresome. While I continue to support causes and candidates I care about, politics has become a dreary topic of conversation. I’m burned out. Aren’t you? I noticed there are no political yard signs in our neighborhood, and I love it. It seems rather peaceful in our little bubble.
Politics and neighborhoods … maybe it’s like marriage. Not everything needs to be said.
A mysterious visitor
Dale had an unusual experience last week, and no, I’m not talking about yard work.
He went to get gas and was parked by the tank, about to fill up. A neatly groomed older guy – Dale said maybe 60s – approached him. The man was wearing shorts Dale said were a little shorter than what’s in fashion (as if Dale would know) and a shirt tucked in. No mask.
The visitor said, “I’m from another area, and I’m not sure how this works. Do I go in and pay?”
Dale asked him if he had a credit card, and the guy said yes. Dale explained he could pay at the pump. The guy got his credit card out and fiddled around with the machine, finally asking Dale if he could help him. Dale showed him how it worked. Before the guy pressed the button for gas, he said, “Oh, is this unleaded?”
By this time, Dale is wondering what the hell? But he said in his nicest Mr. Know-It-All voice, “We haven’t had leaded gas in the U.S. in more than 20 years.”
The guy said, “Oh, OK, thanks.”
Dale’s telling me this story, and I said, “Are you sure he didn’t say he was from another era?”
We both laughed, but that leaves us with some decisions to make. Who was this unmasked man, and why was he so clueless? Here are your choices:
Time traveler
Alien
Recently incarcerated or otherwise institutionalized
Other?
I’m voting for time traveler and an unlucky one at that. Time travel should come with a warning: Beware 2020. As for the other choices, it seems like even someone institutionalized would be more savvy, and I’m pretty sure aliens don’t have credit cards … let’s hope not, anyway.
Our 46-year-old hand mixer on the left, and the new one on the right. Notice the beaters.
At this stage of our lives, we try not to load up on stuff, but kitchen necessities are a special category. Although we’re cautious about what we buy, it seems like we’ve been spending a lot. We’ve purchased a few relatively inexpensive tools, but you know, everything adds up.
Two things broke, and we replaced them. We bought a new can opener ($19.95) and a new immersion blender ($50). Our choice was a no-nonsense 2-Speed Kitchenaid Immersion Blender. We don’t make smoothies, so we don’t need ice-crushing power. I pretty much use it for mayonnaise and to puree soups and sauces. The Kuhn Rikon can opener is slick.
We upgraded several tools, including a fantastic new citrus juicer ($22.29). I’ve pretty much moved on from mojitos to margaritas, but both need copious amounts of lime, so I rest my case.
For 20 years, I used a tortilla press with a wobbly hinge. I replaced it with this beauty by Victoria ($36.89). It’s the same size as my old one – 6.5 inches – but I cannot believe the difference. It’s heavy and presses an exceptionally smooth tortilla. I’ve also used it to flatten out naan.
Next up was the hand mixer. Dale had the Sunbeam before he met me, so we’re thinking it’s 46 years old. There was a power surge button that is held together with duct tape, but other than that, it seemed to work fine. The two main things I use it for are to beat egg whites for souffles and to whip mashed potatoes. And yes, I know there are more foodie ways to mash potatoes.
Anyway, I thought my egg whites weren’t stiff enough, so we went with a new hand mixer. I bought the Kitchenaid 5-speed directly from Kitchenaid ($50). The beaters are very different. The new design seems to be a technological advancement. I’ve been super-impressed with the results on egg whites and mashies. Anything more complicated than that, I use the heavy-duty stand mixer.
The final upgrade is a new panini maker. We had the original Cousinart Griddler, which did not have a floating hinge to adjust for thicker sandwiches. The plates were not removable, either. Still, we used it for 12 years with great success.
Dale really wanted one with a floating hinge. Removable plates are a nice feature as well. I researched all the big brands and went with the upgraded Cousinart Griddler ($79). The floating hinge is not exactly a floating hinge, according to Dale, but the height is adjustable, which has the same effect, so he’s good with it. It does more than we need, but it’s not gigantic. We’re not likely to use it as an indoor grill, but you never know.
One of the features I like is that you can buy extra plates and use the Griddler to make waffles. I’ve been, well, waffling about buying a stand-alone waffle maker for years, but I don’t think we would eat waffles often enough to justify it. The Griddler might not make the world-class Belgian waffles of your dreams, but as least we’ll have waffles at home, which I can have with real syrup. Waffle plates are still on my wish list.
The last three items on this shopping spree gone mad are new, as in not a replacement. I’ve been drooling over all the gorgeous bundt pans that are available now, but I just don’t see me making many bundt cakes. So far, I’ve successfully dodged that bullet.
However, I did succumb to a basic scone pan ($31.41). You don’t really need one, but mine become quite irregular when they bake, and I like the idea of containing them for a more uniform shape. I ordered the pan from King Arthur, because it was on sale, and I was getting other stuff anyway.
Also in the baking category, I ordered four stainless steel 6-inch pie pans ($31.94) I love to make savory pies, and I like the idea of making two for us and two for the freezer. The pie pans should arrive tomorrow, just in time to make these mini chicken pot pies from Ree Drummond.
Finally, I bought a rack ($49.99) for drying pasta. I like to make pasta earlier in the day, so I don’t have to mess with it when it comes times to start cooking. The rack keeps the pasta from sticking together as it sits. This little guy works great.
As for spending a lot, now that I add it up, it doesn’t seem so bad. Total cost was $371.47. We haven’t eaten in a restaurant or been anywhere in eight months. But we eat well, and sometimes you just gotta have the right tool for the job.
In theory, I subscribe to the rule of 1 for 1 … you buy something new, you get rid of something else. I have plans to gift the panini maker, but I can’t quite seem to part with that hand mixer. Maybe those new-fangled beaters will turn out to be a hoax. I don’t know … something is telling me to keep it.
A close-up of my second successful cannabis plant at harvest.About 30 grams of homegrown cannabis (minus one small bud for scientific studies).
Successful homegrown
When I was bringing the trash cans in this week, my neighbor asked if I had a minute. I’ve not talked with him much, but he seems like a nice guy. We kept our distance, kind of like Tim the Tool Man and Wilson.
So, I’m like, what’s up? He said, “Are you the gardener?” And that led to a great conversation about growing cannabis. Apparently, he can see the plant from its home by our South-facing window, and he has been quite mesmerized. He’d like to try growing it. I made him a cheat sheet, some of which I’ve shared below.
It’s fun to think I might have a grow buddy!
In the continuing adventures of a gentlewoman cannabis farmer, I’ve made great progress. In an earlier post, I mentioned that I received new cannabis seeds (at no additional cost) since so many of mine failed to germinate.
My first plant with the new seeds was a beauty. This time around, I didn’t use the kit from A Pot for Pot, although I still highly recommend that option. I’m thinking I can do it for less, although the up-front costs are a little higher.
Also from Amazon, I purchased a five-pack of VIVOSUN 3-gallon Plant Grow Bags for $13.99. A 3-gallon pot will typically produce a bigger plant than a 2-gallon pot from the same seed. Presumably a 5-gallon pot would yield even more, but I have not tried that yet.
My first plant ever in a 2-gallon pot took 102 days from seed to harvest over the winter. It was 20 inches tall at maturity. Yield was about 1/3 of an ounce or 10 grams. My second successful plant was in a 3-gallon pot during the summer and took 61 days from seed to harvest. It was denser with bigger buds but about the same height. Yield was just over an ounce or 30 grams.
I taste tested it yesterday, and it is perfectly potent weed, although I mostly use it to make my topical cream. Instructions are on my downloads page.
A new plant is already in fine shape. In yet another experiment, I re-used some of the potting soil, filling the bottom half of the fabric pot. Then I filled the top half with fresh soil. So far, so good.
The Burnmaster 5000
My latest woodburning art with a mix of colored pencils and acrylic paint.
My latest art was done entirely with the new high-end burning tool (we shall call it the Burnmaster 5000). It’s fabulous!! I’ve been experimenting with stippling techniques, which you can see on the tree-like thing on the left.
I also used a combination of acrylic paints and colored pencils. Pencils are easier to keep inside the lines, but depending on the wood and the color, sometimes I have to really go after it to get the kind of coverage I want. The paint was much more difficult to keep inside the lines, but coverage was great.
The red and orange horizontal elements on the bottom were done in paint. They’re large enough so keeping inside the lines wasn’t too much of an issue. But the smaller designs with white are also paint, and while I love the depth of color, it was a pain to keep it inside the lines and doesn’t look quite as good up close. In the future, I’ll probably just use the paint for larger designs.
Dale cut up the remainder of my scrap wood yesterday. There are some darker pieces, which I think will look better with paint. I can’t wait to get started!
Dale came to grips with his age-related hearing loss a few years ago and now wears hearing aids. Occasionally I turn up the volume on the TV, so I might have a bit of hearing loss as well. Not enough to worry about just yet, but still.
Then yesterday I had a conversation on the golf course that made me wonder. My playing partner is a native Californian of Asian American descent. We were outside, getting ready to tee off. We were socially distant, and I was wearing a mask. In my defense, there was a good bit of mechanical noise around us.
She said, “I have something special for us today.”
Really?
I have Asian parents.
At this point, I’m thinking this is the preface to a family story. She’s Asian, her parents are Asian. So far, it makes sense. I nodded.
Then she asked, “Do you like them?”
I’m like, “Um, I don’t believe we’ve met …”
What?
Didn’t you say you had Asian parents?
No! I said I had Asian pears.
We laughed so hard. Good thing I was wearing my mask.
Anyway, Asian pears are delicious, if you haven’t tried them. Crispy but slightly sweet – not unlike myself.
Kindness, please
Not that I’m normally unpleasant, but my permanent record as revealed by multiple 360-degree reviews throughout my career indicates I can come across as abrupt.
I’ve decided to work a little harder to be nice. I’m just so sick of reading about despicable acts of meanness and have made a personal vow to be as gentle and respectful as possible, even if I don’t particularly like you or disagree with you about politics or anything else. I even thought of a cool t-shirt slogan.
Some fucking kindness, please!
Oh, I guess that’s not in the spirit of things. But you get the idea. Sometimes it’s easy, like when I’m driving, I make a point to let people merge in or get in front of me when they are pulling out of a parking lot into traffic.
Other times it’s harder. A fellow golfer emailed me a long-winded apology about her insignificant breach of etiquette during last week’s play, and I didn’t want to engage in her drama. I simply wrote back, “No worries.” Then I thought, was that kind? She made an effort. It obviously matters to her.
I sent her another email and said I was busy when I replied earlier and didn’t mean to be abrupt. That I truly meant no worries and appreciated her note.
Of course, then I got back another email with more words than necessary, but I think she felt better. And you know, I did, too. I’ll call that a win.
To further my mission of kindness, I voted, hopefully voting out meanness at the top. I took mine to an official drop box. In California, you can sign up for a ballot tracking service, so I received this confirmation:
Your ballot for the 2020 General Election was received and will be counted. Thank you for voting!
My sister-in-law sent these adorable masks. I have no idea where she got them, but this cat mask is too cute to be disposable! Although I usually wear one of the washable cloth face coverings my sister made, I keep a stash of disposables around as well. Such is life in the time of pandemic.
Our air quality is much improved, and it has cooled off. Quite beautiful! Earlier in the week, I wasn’t sick, but I wasn’t 100 percent, either. I woke up this morning feeling great, and that’s not the dexamethasone talking. I’m blaming the air.
Today I’m making baguettes, which we have for dinner with good olive oil, prosciutto, brie and whatever else is hanging around. We have some liverwurst spread similar to pâté, which I think will be delicious. Red wine. If all I ever do is make baguettes for Dale, he will die a happy man.
Speaking of red wine, I believe we’ll be taking a drive out to one of our favorite wineries today. Around here, you can join a wine club at any of the wineries. While it varies from winery to winery, at this one, we’re obligated to buy three bottles per quarter and get free tastings anytime we want.
Normally, it’s a lovely place to hang out, but we’re not tasting until I don’t know when – when we see some sort of sign this virus has mostly passed. But it’s an interesting drive, and we have a pick-up ready. Usually they have other sales going on, and the rack is quickly slowly diminishing, so we might purchase additional bottles. Members get a nice discount.
Local wineries are one of my favorite things about living in California, and I am looking forward to the full experience sometime in the not-too-distant future.
Now that the weather is cooling, I’m thinking about all my favorite fall foods. And Thanksgiving, of course. Last year I made pumpkin cheesecake for dessert, and it was absolutely wunderbar. I froze individual pieces.
The cheesecake resuscitated quite well but didn’t last long due to my persistent overindulgence. Those little big slices were like a gun to my head. Why, yes, I want to make it again. But Dale loves apple pie, so I’m torn.
However, I made another deal with him that might get me off the hook for apple pie. I’m not much of a Christmas person and usually complain bitterly the whole time about what a pain in the ass it is. I find the tree to be mostly a nuisance, but Dale loves it. We do have lots of handmade German ornaments that are quite precious, but still, I prefer to see them tucked away in the garage.
Perhaps it’s a touch of cat mask fever or maybe a pre-Christmas miracle, but I said this has been one hell of a shitty year. Who knows what will happen next? We’re not getting any younger. If a tree makes you happy, I’m all in. I’ll help, I’ll be happy and won’t complain. That’s why God invented single malt Scotch.
Anyway, it wouldn’t be all that different from work, where I used to pretend to enjoy all the team-building activities, including one where a high-priced consultant asked a colleague to get on the floor and bark like a dog. A friend and mentor advised me once to think of it as an out-of-body experience, and that mostly worked for me.
Except Dale is my team in real life, and supporting his happiness is part of the deal. It will be fun. Besides, I’m thinking Jolly Christmas Donna is a fair trade for pumpkin cheesecake.
