Esprit de core

I’m hanging in there on the physical therapy for my lumbar spine issues. I was close to quitting because everything hurt, but my massage therapist said she could feel a big difference in my flexibility, so I decided to stick with it.

And it has improved, so that’s all for the good. Some of the stretches are difficult. I told the PT I’ve modified the exercises a little, and he was OK with that. One of the exercises is called the dead bug. I said it makes me feel like I’m going to have a stroke, so I changed it up a bit and am now calling it the bug on life support.

At least he laughed. A key component of this program is to strengthen my core, which is non-existent. As we say around here, cores are for apples.

He said it’s about learning to isolate the stomach muscles, because that puts less stress on the back. I’m pretty sure most of the world walks around just fine without the ability to isolate the stomach muscles, but sure, I’ll give it a whirl.

Esprit de core. Spirit of the body? I know it’s really corps, but my version kind of fits, don’t you think?

I finally finished number 42. This one took me a long time. Some of that is because I work in the garage, and it gets cold out there. I do have a portable heater, but I’m reluctant to use it for some reason.

Although I like this piece, I keep thinking of the Progressive commercial about becoming your parents — the one where they make the woman get rid of her Live, Laugh, Love sign. So, this is mine, but I’m not getting rid of it.

I finally figured out how to see it enlarged. Just click on it! It takes a sec or two, but it will show up bigger.

My sister suggested I try an engraving tool to add a different element to my art, and I think I’m going to get one. That could be fun to play around with. If somebody had told me that my retirement hobby would be making art out of pallet scraps, I would have assumed they were smoking crack. Such a surprise to me, but I really enjoy it.

This is another busy golf week. And then we have a wine pick-up from one of the local wineries. That’s about a 30-40 minute drive one-way.

I never knew these clubs existed, but we have tons of wineries nearby. You join the ones you like for free, and you get free tastings. With most of them, you’re committed to buying a few bottles quarterly or something like that.

As of now, we’re in two clubs. It’s a struggle, but we manage (hee hee). This week’s pick-up is from Vino Noceto, which specializes in Sangiovese, one of my favorites.

Dinner tonight is what we call “Health Food.” Basically, a bean and cheese tostada with lettuce, tomatoes, onions, cheddar cheese and guacamole. Dale makes the beans from scratch, and look at all those fresh toppings! Hence the name.

Oh, and if you like the idea of non-alcoholic beer but haven’t found one you like, I highly recommend Heineken 0.0. I seriously can’t tell the difference between this and the real thing. I still drink regular beer, but I like having options.

Spring … so cruel

Once again, the bitter disappointment of spring is upon us. I hate that you get these beautiful warm days only to have it foul up again with rain and cold. Yes, I know that is the nature of spring and weather in general, but I think fall does a better job as a season. Much more gradual and consistent.

Still, last year I made a conscious effort to fully embrace the diversity of weather, so welcome, rain and cold. You rotten bastards.

We’re doing dinner Triple O or OOO (On Our Own), For Dale, that always means my homemade tacos from the freezer. My tacos are fried crispy, and Dale does a fantastic job of resuscitating them. I won’t make new ones until the freezer stash is gone, so he’s motivated.

I mix it up, but tonight I decided to eat my last piece of birthday lasagna. That’s from September! While I was rooting around in the freezer, I saw two sad and lonely pieces of my birthday cake, so I pulled out one of those for good measure. A little rain and cold deserves coconut layer cake. For breakfast.

While we’re on the topic of food, Dale corned a beef brisket. The first night we ate it boiled with potatoes, carrots, onions and cabbage. The second night he made Reuben sandwiches on his homemade rye bread, which by the way, makes delicious toast in the morning.

Sometimes I like rye toast with just butter, and sometimes I add a little bitter orange marmalade. Dale thinks it’s weird that I use both butter and marmalade, but I think it’s a great combination! Peanut butter is also good on rye, but for some reason, I don’t like peanut butter on sourdough.

Since many bloggers report on Thankful Thursday, I will share that I’m grateful we’re both obsessed with food and cooking. Aside from eating exceptionally well, I also believe cooking at home most of the time makes for healthy aging. I rarely eat any kind of processed or packaged food, and it’s my contention eating reasonably “clean” helps with weight management. I know it’s different for everyone, but that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.

I had my first-ever facial this week! I liked it very much and plan to go every six weeks or so to see if it makes a difference. I’m low-maintenance when it comes to beauty routines, and Tammy, the esthetician, totally got that. I said I’m not looking to get any younger, but I’d like to keep my skin looking reasonably good as I age.

She used very light microdermabrasion as part of the facial, and my skin tone definitely looks more even – lighter dark spots, less red. My skin also looks brighter and feels moisturized.

Tammy didn’t push products. She thought my CeraVe stuff from the drugstore was fine. The only thing I purchased was a bottle of Vitamin C serum. That goes under the sunscreen in the morning. She gave me a bag full of samples to try. One is a tinted sunscreen. I used that yesterday for golf, and aside from the sun protection, I liked how it made my skin look.

On the aches and pains front, I’ve decided to cut back on the rhetoric. As I was getting out of the car for golf yesterday, possibly grunting and groaning, one of the women who also deals with sciatica was getting out of her car. We’ve often compared notes. She said, “How are you?” And I said, “Hanging in there …” I’m not sure if I was going to elaborate or not, but she quickly said GREAT! and exited the scene at a high rate of speed.

I think that was a message to find something else to talk about.

On the entertainment front, I read March Violets, the first book in the Bernie Gunther series by Philip Kerr. Bernie is a detective in 1936 Berlin. The writing is quite sharp with that sassy hard-boiled dialogue we often associate with crime writers from that era – Raymond Chandler, Dashiell Hammet, etc.  

Anyway, I liked it a lot, but that Hitler stuff is pretty depressing. Not to go all political on you, but I do feel Fascism is a real threat these days, and not just in the U.S. So, I have to decide if I want to continue with the books. I also finally read All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr. Set during World War II, there’s also a fair amount of Nazi bullshit in there, but for some reason, it didn’t bother me as much in this novel.

Next on the reading docket are all the novels of Dashiell Hammet. Conveniently, they’re relatively short and all compiled into one book. I’ve probably read them all at some point, but I’m refreshing my memory before I watch Monsieur Spade.

When I first retired, I had a hard time reading during the day, but now I’m a pro. I still won’t watch TV during the day, though. I burned through all my favorite shows on PBS Masterpiece, and I’m currently back to Netflix with Resident Alien, a hilarious but kind of dark show about an alien who is sent to Earth to kill everyone, but it all goes terribly wrong.

Time calibration

I never thought I’d say this about retirement, but in some ways, time is harder to manage than money.

In the cosmic sense, you think, how much time do I have left on the planet? Another 20 years? Is this how I want to spend it? For the most part, I’d say yes, but then I wonder what I might be missing.

Mostly I avoid thinking about the cosmos as it applies to me. I have a good life and try to enjoy the time that has been given. Still, I’m wondering if I need a time calibration on the simple pleasures of day-to-day life.

I mean, I’ll get up early for golf if I have to, but that’s about it. I’m a fan of the slow start, which means a leisurely breakfast and a slew of puzzles from the New York Times. By the way, I’m loving the new game, Strands.

Then there are chores, exercise, reading, writing, streaming shows, travel, art and the art of food – browsing recipes, shopping for ingredients, preparing meals and enjoying the results! I’m sure the young and busy with their families and jobs and all that are thinking, oh, wah, how hard can it be?

Well, true, it’s not that it’s hard. It’s just that we older folks know the clock is ticking, and it goes back to that cosmic thing. Could I be doing this differently? The big thing for me is setting aside more time to write. Not only for blog posts but also because writers write. It helps me think.

I’ve been reading a lot, but I’d like to try more challenging material. I saw a paperback of All Quiet on the Western Front in our stash, and I barely remember it from high school. And other than one class in college, I’ve never taken to Shakespeare, although it might be time. I’ll need to be upright for that.

Snuggly reading under the covers is better suited for a good who-done-it.

Now that I think about it, I’m doing OK, but maybe a little less golf and a little more in the way of intellectual pursuits. Not that golf doesn’t fry your brain – just in a different way. Anyway, as I was thinking about how I live and spend my time as I age, I started a random list of questions I should probably work through. See what you think.

  • How much sleep is too much sleep? Do you have to stop at 10?
  • Why is everything better with butter?
  • Amazon or Spotify? Do I care what Neil Young thinks?
  • What counts as one glass of wine?
  • Acorn or BritBox?
  • Is it Friday or was that yesterday?
  • If you get up to pee three times in a night, does an angel get its wings?
  • What’s so bad about a gluten-rich diet?
  • Why is it always about the knees?
  • If I can gain five pounds in a week, why can’t I lose five pounds in a week?
  • How many Law & Order reruns can I watch? Am I wrong to love Lenny?
  • Kale. OK, but why?
  • Peeps. Crap candy or nature’s miracle?

There are more, but we’ll stop here so you can get back to the important things you were doing with your time.

When chiro doesn’t cut it

If you’ve been looking for a blog post from me, you’ll need to hack into my computer and search the trash, because that’s where everything I write ends up. I just can’t seem to get my shit act together.

In health news, my sciatica flare-up is now behind me. I’m still doing a lot of different stretches and strengthening exercises, and I believe they’re keeping me upright, but I probably need professional help. Seems like Dale said that, but I don’t think he was talking about my back.

A golf friend said she sees a chiropractor weekly, Medicare pays for it and she no longer has sciatica. I’ve always been afraid of chiro, but I made an appointment for an evaluation and took along the MRI of my back. I really liked the doctor, however, he read through the MRI report and said spinal manipulation probably won’t help me and could make it worse.

Rejected! I didn’t think chiropractors turned anyone away.

For you medical nerds, he said the reason for turning me down is the severe stenosis at L4-L5. I appreciated his honesty. He said massages and exercises that address muscles and tissue are good, so I asked my doctor for a referral to physical therapy. I think I’m already on the right track there, but a little fine-tuning seems appropriate at this point. That starts next week.

I’ve been reading a good bit, and it’s not all crime fiction! The list includes:

The Lincoln Highway by Amor Towles. I liked it a lot, but damn, that ending was not what I expected.

An Honest Man by Michael Koryta. After discovering seven men murdered aboard their yacht off the coast of Maine – our protagonist Israel Pike is regarded as a prime suspect. Let’s just say he has a troubled past. Highly recommended.

The Frozen River by Ariel Lawhon. It’s 1789, and a badass midwife in Maine takes on accused rapists, one of whom has been found dead. Or was he murdered? I loved this book!

The Body Keeps the Score: Brain, Mind and Body in the Healing of Trauma by Bessell van der Kolk. This book turned out to be a bit wonky with lots of science and research, but I would consider it a must-read for trauma survivors. Having been raised by wolves, it helped me understand a lot about my own issues.

The Exchange: After the Firm by John Grisham. It was nice to revisit the McDeere’s, but I was a bit disappointed. The storyline wasn’t all that believable, and I think he missed some opportunities to add an unexpected twist or two.

Lady Tan’s Circle of Women by Lisa See. Based on a real person, this work of historical fiction tells the story of a girl in 1400s China who becomes a doctor. I enjoy anything by Lisa See, and this one did not disappoint. But man, that foot-binding is some bad shit. And eunichs! Lot of wrong going on there.

Now that I’ve branched out a bit, I’m thinking of trying science fiction again. High on my list is Dune, which we have at home in paperback. I asked Dale if he thought I could get through it, and he said yes, if I can keep track of the characters.

Well, that’s easier said than done.

In another important retirement development, Dale and I settled our argument regarding crumbs on the floor and the process for removing them. He used to think they disappeared by magic, but he now understands a vacuum cleaner is involved. And I do not have a vacuum cleaner attached to my hand.

To make everything easy-peasy, we sprung for a Dyson cordless stick vacuum and put it in a place with easy access for quick clean-ups. Now, everyone can participate in the vacuuming of crumbs!

On dying happy

Maybe you don’t know this, and I hope you have no reason to, but mastectomies can leave you looking rather mangled. In my case, I went for the aesthetic flat closure instead of reconstruction. No regrets, because either way, you will not look the same. Why do they call it aesthetic when it’s anything but?

Because lumpy was already taken.

Actually, I rather like my lumpy flat closure and find it freeing to be done with bras and all that. Still, I have a mess o’ scars, and my armpits ended up sort of puffy. Late last year, they seemed puffier than normal, so I thought it would be prudent to have them checked out.

As I was sharing my observations with the doctor, I said the whole thing could be my imagination. I can stare into the mirror and easily see signs of imminent death. She said you don’t have to explain yourself to me. You’ve had some bad stuff happen. It changes you.

I know you cancer survivors get it. The slightest thing can take the wind out of your sails. So, I’ve been a little worried about it. However, I am pleased to report both sides have been thoroughly evaluated, and it appears I have a simple case of puffy pits. I’m assuming it’s related to bulging belly and flabby ass.

The good news is I dodged the bullet yet again. I always say I’m one of the luckiest unlucky people I know!

But, jeez, you hear things. A friend’s husband stood up, got dizzy and fell, which resulted in a traumatic brain injury. She said he is recovering fully, although it’s a long haul. They have a new appreciation for the simple pleasures of life.

Another friend of mine was playing golf with her partner, and he had a heart attack and died. Boom, just like that. She said, well, he died doing something he loved.

Hmmm. I don’t know. Does that make it better? Maybe. Just maybe.

I was vacuuming the stairs last week and almost took a tumble. Perhaps they would say, well, she was cleaning the house. She died doing something she hated. That does sort of suck.

And so I try to make peace with the fact that death will come for us all, but I do hope it’s later rather than sooner. I’m definitely in the die happy camp and humbly suggest the trick is to stack the deck and live happy. Do more and more of the things you love and less and less of the things you hate. Relish the simple pleasures.

I’ve said it before. Dust ages well undisturbed.  

A happy retirement Monday

Just another happy retirement Monday. It’s lovely outside now, but we should see rain later. I like it better when it rains at night. However, I also like when it gets dark and spooky during the middle of the day. Life is easier when we make peace with the weather, whatever it is.

My back and knees and other miscellaneous body parts are in harmony. I have a good book (The Lincoln Highway by Amor Towles). I’m swimming and walking and will be playing golf this week. And today I’m cooking one of my favorite dishes. Moussaka. It is an all-day affair, which reinforces the joy of not working and having the time to make delicious food.

The recipe I use is from David Rosengarten. Some of you may remember him. He was on the Food Network when they first started up. He had a show with Donna Hanover, one of Giuliani’s exes. Kind of a shame, because she seemed better than that. Although he seemed better in those days, too, didn’t he?

Anyway, sometimes you see David these days as a judge on Iron Chef America. We have his cookbook, Taste. Among our other favorites from the book are Singapore Crab and Spaghetti Carbonara.

I love eggplant in all forms. In Egypt, we used to get these little skinny white ones, which were fantastic. This recipe makes a big-assed pan of Moussaka, so it calls for four eggplants. I’ve tried cutting the recipe in half, but it doesn’t work as well for me. Fortunately, it makes great freezer food.

While I’ve seen many variations of Moussaka, with this one you roast the eggplant first and then brown slices on the cooktop. You make tasty tomato sauce and brown ground lamb with onions and garlic. Then all that is mixed up and simmered for an hour.

A lot like lasagna, the dish is layered with fresh breadcrumbs, the lamb mixture, cheese and béchamel sauce. The recipe calls for a Greek cheese I can’t find, but I follow David’s recommendation and substitute Pecorino Romano.

I like to get everything going early and have it all done up and ready to go in the oven by happy hour. There’s some white wine in the lamb mixture, but I’m thinking this is more of a red wine thing. As the house Silmarillion, I’ll have to make a decision.

But such a decision is a pleasure. I didn’t have to put anyone on a Performance Improvement Plan. I didn’t have to fire anyone. I didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn and drive to work. No crazy executive called to make unreasonable demands. Retirement is good.

Oh, and a pro tip for you female cooks out there. Wrap your apron tie around the back and then bring it to the front for a final knot. If you should so happen to leave the apron strings dangling down the back, it’s entirely possible you might forget they are there if you should have to pee, and it could get messy. Not that I have any personal experience in such matters, but I’ve heard things.

The repair crew

Nice easy walks and gentle swims … you’d think I was fully recovered from overdoing it a bit in January. However, just when I thought all my body parts were working in harmony, out of the clear blue of the western sky comes excruciating knee pain that brought all my good efforts to a halt.

After a few days of rest, heat, ice, Tylenol and Advil, it seems to be fine. I did a short test walk yesterday and a slightly longer test walk today, and so far, so good. But still, I’ve been exercising regularly for 50 years, and it shocks me how quickly things can go wrong.

When I complained to my husband about the pain, he said, “Ah, yes. The repair crew.”

Sometimes the guy is genius. When something hurts, and I start to feel sorry for myself, I think, calm down. It’s just the repair crew, and I am in need of repairs. They’re trying to fix this mess. Certainly, there are many ways to cope with pain, and I suspect most of us will dabble in those dark arts more and more as we age.

Growing older is not easy, but let’s consider ourselves lucky if we can get through it in reasonably good cheer and enjoy the time that is given to us.

Interestingly, I just finished a fantastic book that explores the possibilities of navigating adversity with dignity, grace and humor … so maybe some of it rubbed off on me. Historical fiction at its finest, “A Gentleman in Moscow” by Amor Towles tells the story of Count Alexander Rostov, a Russian aristocrat living under house arrest in a luxury hotel for 30 years.

One of my favorite passages (and there are many) is when a friend talks to him about wanting to leave Russia and experience the conveniences of modern life. Count Rostov replies:

I’ll tell you what is convenient. To sleep until noon and have someone bring you your breakfast on a tray. To cancel an appointment at the very last minute. To keep a carriage waiting at the door of one party, so that on a moment’s notice it can whisk you away to another. To sidestep marriage in your youth and put off having children altogether. These are the greatest of conveniences, Anushka — and at one time, I had them all. But in the end, it has been the inconveniences that have mattered to me most.

I loved this book. It’s literary without being too fancy-pants. Just a fantastic story in a spectacular setting with great characters and thoughts and ideas that might haunt (or inspire) you for decades. If you should be so fortunate.

In other news, rain, rain and more rain. And so one’s thoughts turn to food. Dale roasted a chicken earlier in the week. I’m making stock out of the carcass, and he’s making chicken tortilla soup with the leftover meat. His soup is tomato-based, and then we top it with fried tortilla strips, crumbled queso fresco, chunks of avocado, chopped cilantro and a squirt of fresh lime.

Tomorrow I’m making venison meatloaf, sour cream and chive mashed potatoes and asparagus. I haven’t decided if I’ll roast or steam the asparagus.

I also took my sourdough starter out of the fridge to get him ready for bread. I just need to feed him for a couple of days, and then he’s good to go. I started him at the beginning of the pandemic and named him Gollum because I wasn’t sure this would work out, and I was reminded of Gandalf’s line from the movie, Lord of the Rings.

My heart tells me that Gollum has some part to play, for good or ill, before this is over.

Luckily, Gollum has performed admirably. I was thinking of some sort of stew to go with the bread. Although, meatloaf sandwiches don’t make me mad.

Something lost, something gained

I dreamed last night Tiger Woods was at a big event planning to introduce me as his new girlfriend. I was wearing a skimpy gold workout outfit, and I looked hot. Except I was still old, and people were kind of noticing that, wondering about Tiger’s choice. He was about to explain when I woke up.

That was probably for the best. Some things you just don’t need to know.

Although I didn’t watch the Grammys, I’ve watched replay after replay of 80-year-old Joni Mitchell singing Both Sides Now and a graying Tracy Chapman performing Fast Car with Luke Combs. Kind of noticing they are getting older, and in a good way.

Both Sides Now speaks to me about youthful optimism, wisdom and regret. What a song, and she was so young when she wrote it. How did she know? I think my favorite line is, “Well, something’s lost, but something’s gained in living every day.”

Aging has it challenges, but you know, it’s not all bad. As for me, I’ve lost a lot of my fearlessness, but I honestly don’t want it back. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with myself. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gained a (mostly) quieter mind and am happy with less.

Joni and Tracy inspired me to charge up my ear buds and listen to music when I walked today. Lately, I haven’t bothered, but then I think about stuff the whole time, and no good can come of that. But today I came home singing along to Papa was a Rolling Stone, and that’s better than coming home pissed off about one thing or another. So many things to choose from.

Rain is good, I get that, but it gets old. I’ve gotten to where I don’t mind walking in light rain, but golf is a different story. It sucks to get all your gear wet, and the course is a muddy mess right now. Not much golf going on, except in my dreams.

Math is not my strong suit, so I’ve always avoided Sudoku, but atmospheric rivers will make you do crazy things. And, actually, Sudoku isn’t based on any learned math as far as I can tell, even though numbers are involved. For me, it’s more about patterns and logic.

Anyway, I’m actually quite pleased with my progress and can now do a medium difficulty puzzle in 30-45 minutes. A hard one takes me an hour, and I usually have to guess at least once. My goal is no guesses. I’ve learned some solving techniques including the tricksy hidden pairs and hidden triples, but try as I might, there other strategies I don’t yet understand.

I’ve been looking at books on Amazon, but I can see where that might be a slippery slope. I guess I want one book to rule them all, and I’m not sure which one to get. Any recommendations?

Return of the lost sock

After searching relentlessly throughout the entire house for my lost sock, I had pretty much concluded our sweet fluffy cat, Riley, had turned criminal and taken it for ransom. But then I made one more last-ditch effort to turn up this woolen treasure, and I’m pleased to report Riley has been falsely accused.

I found the sock in my husband’s pajama drawer. How it got there, why it got there – inquiring minds want to know, but Dale is keeping quiet. He was as surprised as anyone and probably liked it better when the cat was our most likely suspect.

In other news, I personally, am not thinking about Taylor Swift.

As far as food goes, it’s not like we’re eating chicken by-product meal. Dale made kimchi, and tonight is its debut. The kimchi has been fermenting in the refrigerator for three weeks. I’m surprised he didn’t bury it in the backyard, but these are modern times, after all.

I love kimchi, but I do have to be careful with all the cabbagy hot stuff. Gastrointestinally speaking, I will pay a price if I eat too much. Dale is making Korean-style barbequed beef ribs and white rice to go with. Beer will be involved.

Speaking of rice, I see Bobby Flay on TV making crispy rice all the time, and everyone absolutely loves it. Crispy on the outside, still creamy on the inside. I thought, how hard can it be? Dale made beef and broccoli earlier this week, and there was leftover rice, so I browsed recipes online and figured it was a slam dunk.

I put some oil in a nonstick pan and pressed the rice together to make sort of a cake. I read to let it brown on the bottom and then flip. I didn’t let it brown long enough, and by the time I was done, crispy and creamy exited the scene at a high rate of speed.

It was OK, but clearly, I won’t beat Bobby Flay. Dale thinks I should try again with another kind of rice – our leftovers were long grain, and I think a shorter grain might be stickier.

Dale and I both gained a couple of pounds at Christmas and have been more careful than usual. But here we are, almost to February, and we are both craving something fried with cheese oozing out of it. It’s primal.

We rarely see eye-to-eye on a movie, so we sort of gave up and agreed to watch a bad monster movie every Friday night with pizza. But some of them are so bad, we can’t watch the whole thing. I’m looking at you Invasion of the Bee Girls. Last night was Bride of the Monster with Bela Lugosi, and it was awful enough to be entertaining but good enough to watch through to the end.

One of my favorites was Eegah. Free on Amazon Prime! Dale wasn’t too keen on it. Here’s the promo:

On a trip through the desert, a teen girl discovers a prehistoric giant. An investigation to find the giant causes it to spread terror throughout Southern California.

But Eegah was actually kind of sweet, and I enjoyed seeing Richard Kiel in what I believe was his first movie. Over seven feet tall, he’s the guy who played Jaws in a couple of James Bond movies. He was also in Happy Gilmore.

I’m thinking tonight should be Oppenheimer. We both want to see it, and there’s a theme. You know, atomic bombs, kimchi. So much potential for disaster.

That’s good, that’s bad

It has been an annoying few weeks, and I’ve put writing on the bottom of the list. Today, I thought, if you want life to go back to normal, then why not do the normal stuff you do … such as write? I’m telling you, friends, the brain is a dangerous thing.

Speaking of dangerous things, I’m told by my sister, who is not a doctor but plays one on the Internet, that Advil isn’t good for us older adults. We do use with caution, but still, Dale calls them blue buddies. I mentioned this to one of my golf partners, and she said, “Advil is my favorite drug, and I’ve tried most of them.”

So, it has been a mix of Tylenol and Advil, but even then, sparingly. Ice. I won’t go into all the gory details, but I messed up my knees trying to be the athlete I was in my 30s. I’m in less pain than I was even a week ago, so that’s good.

The same golf friend, who was a teacher, often quotes a children’s book called, That’s Good, That’s Bad. It comes up a lot in golf. Let’s see how it works here.

I messed up my thumb pushing my golf cart up a hill. I was distracted for a moment, and the cart rolled back toward me, sort of squishing my thumb. The result was an ugly cyst-like thing. That’s bad.

The cyst hurts occasionally but not all that much. That’s good.

I finally got an appointment with a hand specialist, and he said it’s an arthritic cyst that can pop up at any time for no good reason. Or it can be the result of an accident such as mine. He said it could go away on its own. That’s good.

But it might not. He could surgically remove it, but there’s a good chance it will come back since the underlying cause – our friend arthritis – hasn’t gone away. He recommended I do nothing, but if and when I get tired of looking at it, to go for the surgery. That’s bad.

I’ve been using cannabis cream on the cyst, and it looks smaller to me. Virtually no pain. That’s good.

I was diagnosed with osteoporosis two years ago but didn’t go back for another bone scan until this month. I wasn’t going to go at all, because after a lot of reading, I’m deeply suspicious the whole thing is a racket dreamed up by the people who make the scanning machines and the drug companies. That’s bad.

But I’ve been taking vitamins A and K for two years, and I wanted to see if it made a difference. That’s good.

My numbers were overall quite stable. That’s good.

However, my primary care physician said I might want to consider medication. That’s bad.

There’s a lot of nasty stuff associated with bone density drugs, so my hope is to avoid them. But then I thought, maybe it’s time to hear what experts have to say about the latest and greatest in bone density treatment. My doctor referred me to an endocrinologist, and I made an appointment for January 18. That’s good.

Except when I arrived, they said my appointment was for July 18. That’s bad.

The receptionist was quite sympathetic, and I said don’t worry about it, I wasn’t all that excited to be here anyway. She laughed. That’s good.

Then there’s the curious case of Donna’s favorite sock. I recently purchased three pairs of wool socks that are really great for keeping my feet warm during cold-weather walks and long rounds of golf. That’s good.

Late one afternoon, I was getting ready to take a shower and took off my workout clothes, draping them over the hamper. They were still reasonably clean – passing the sniff test with flying colors – and I figured I could wear them again the next day. I left the socks on the floor by the hamper. In the morning, one of my socks was gone. That’s bad.

At first, I sort of blew it off. Like, oh, I must have misplaced that sock. But then I started a legitimate search and rescue. I went through every item I have worn in that past month to see if it got stuck in a sleeve or leg. I checked the washing machine and the dryer. I checked Dale’s stuff. I’ve gone through all my drawers, to no avail. That’s bad.

I thought, well, it would be atypical, but maybe our cat Riley had a sudden hankering for a tasty sock. I checked under all the beds, his treehouse, anywhere he might have stashed it. I warned Riley he was in big kitty trouble if he messed with my sock. But it appears he’s innocent. That’s good.

Dale suggested poltergeists are responsible. This would be the first sign of them, and I’ve actually Googled this, but it’s not looking like poltergeists steal socks. That’s good.

That’s the end of my little rant. My knees are on the mend. My thumb is fine. My bones are hanging tough and on hold until July. I’ll live to write another day. That’s good.

But my sock is gone. That’s bad.