Oh, to be oblivious

I’ll spare you the excruciating details, but my knees et al turned into quite the sciatic flare-up, and I’ve behaved badly … whining incessantly about the weather being gorgeous, and who is not playing golf? Dale is ready to throw me out the window, and even the cat hates me. I have been able to walk a little bit every day, so that’s good.

I’m on the mend, but I have long-term issues that need to be resolved. I’ve been reluctant to go on the meds such as Lyrica or Gabapentin, figuring I’m better off abusing Advil once or twice a year. But now I don’t know. I’ll see what my primary care physician has to say when I see her toward the end of next month – the soonest I could get in.

The thing about a flare-up is that it makes you appreciate any day you wake up and feel pretty good. Staying strong and healthy is important to me, but I tend to overdo everything and have a hard time leaving well enough alone. Perhaps I see more complacency in my future. Kinder, gentler, slower, easier – these are the words that are starting to resonate. Forgive me if I’ve said that before, but maybe you have to say it 10 times for it to stick.

On the food front, I made my annual kabocha squash red curry, which is absolutely utterly fantastic. It’s a great fall dish, especially since the pomegranates are in season. I cut the recipe in half, and it makes enough for two and a leftover. If you make it, the timing is off. The squash is done at about 20 minutes or less, definitely not 45.

I had some pomegranate seeds leftover and sprinkled showered some on top of yogurt and granola. If that isn’t already a thing, it should be.  

Dale, the neighborhood watch, just came into tell me there’s some kind of a mummies convention going on down the street. I thought, wow, they are taking Halloween to a new level around here. But he meant mummies as in mommies with strollers. I just hope they’re not the mad yoga moms with guns and stuff. I suspect that’s a demographic in our neighborhood.

I wonder about the mad moms, because there’s a local election, and I see a fair number of signs for a candidate emphasizing school choice, which would allow parents to use our tax dollars to send their kids to private schools. Even though I am a childless cat lady, I’m all about supporting public education!

The good news is I have not seen a single sign for the presidential candidates. It’s better this way. I was daydreaming about how great it will be when this election is over, except it’s probably not going to be over like it used to be over. I’m trying to let go and pay less attention to the whole business, but it seems I’m hard-wired to stay connected to the state of the union.

Perhaps I’ll be oblivious in my next life. Something to look forward to!

Streaming blues

I said I wouldn’t whine about creaky body parts, so I won’t, but I will share that my problematic knee turned savage, and I’ve been nursing that traitorous wretch back to health. You think you know a knee, and then it pulls something like this.

Physical therapy, or physical tyranny as I’ve been calling it lately, has been life-changing for me, but I’ll be having a heart-to-heart with my guy later today. I give him full credit for helping me strengthen my core and pretty much eliminate lower back pain, but I’m no longer on board with the concept of strengthening my quadricep muscle to fix my knee.

I know that’s the standard, but in my case, lunges and squats do more harm than good. They are dead to me. I’m calling it a farewell to harms.

Fortunately, I’ve had a good book to help me ride out the storm. While crime fiction is my default, I occasionally like to read science fiction and fantasy. The library had Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros. It’s about a young woman who attends a brutal war college for dragon riders, and I enjoyed it very much. It’s a trilogy, and I just picked up the second one from the library. The third comes out this month, I think.

And so I find myself with the streaming blues. I love the choices available these days, but I hate burning through a show only to find it’s the end of the season, and there are no assurances there will be another one. All that emotional investment, and then it’s wait and see.

Still, I’m weak and continue to watch, even though I know I’ll soon be left high and dry. I’m mostly thinking of Hulu and The Old Man with Jeff Bridges. I have one more episode, and then who knows? Next year, maybe? The show is based on the The Old Man by Thomas Perry. He’s a prolific writer. I really loved his Jane Whitefield series and highly recommend them. The first one is Vanishing Act.

I also burned through some of my PBS shows, including Hotel Portofino. I need to stop around for a new one over there.

Back to Hulu. I liked Shogun, which is a limited series. How great, I thought, that I don’t have to wait for new seasons. I thought the finale was just perfect and was at peace with it being over. Then I went online to read more about the actors, only to discover the show has been such a success they plan to produce one or even two more seasons. That just pisses me off.  They’ve already killed off my favorite character, so I’m kind of over it.

The bright side is there’s almost always something around the bend. Season 3 of The Lincoln Lawyer drops Oct. 17 on Amazon Prime. That show is based on Mickey Haller books by Michael Connelly. Speaking of Michael Connelly books, The Waiting, featuring Harry Bosch and Renée Ballard, is out Oct. 15! I’m pretty sure I’ll end up buying that one.

The weather has finally turned cooler, so I’m starting to get excited about fall foods. I adore pumpkin, especially in savory dishes, and I have a boatload of recipes I’ve been saving. It’s a matter of choosing which one. Some recipes call for fresh pumpkin or butternut squash, and others use canned pumpkin. I’m actually a big fan of canned pumpkin, but I’m good with any of the above.

Dale wants to make chili. The question is beef or chili verde with pork. Both are spectacular. He is of the opinion that beans do not belong in chili. He also uses stew meat – nothing ground.

Our election ballots arrived in the mail, so that’s on the docket. I’m quite nervous about the whole thing, but I still have hope Kamala can pull it off. I simply can’t understand how it can even be close. If you haven’t checked out my one-pager about Trump’s shameful pattern of disrespect for the military, you can find it here.

The HOA ate my newspaper

We are apparently among the few who still get a newspaper delivered daily. It’s not all that great of a newspaper as newspapers go, but these are trying times for print journalism, and we can’t give it up anymore than we could give up our morning coffee.

While I don’t have firm numbers, I would guess the newspaper is soaking wet 20 percent of the time. Certainly, rain can be the culprit, even when the newspaper is bagged in plastic, but most of the time it’s due to our sprinklers watering the driveway.

Our front yard is maintained by the homeowner’s association, so for quite some time, years, really, we tolerated wet newspapers because it seemed like a better alternative than talking to someone at the homeowner’s association. My husband tried microwaving the newspaper to dry it, but that caused a fire in the microwave, so now he puts it in the oven at 350 degrees until it crisps up a bit.

After one too many wet newspapers, we said, enough is enough! I called the HOA and left a message because no one ever actually answers the phone over there. No one returned my call, but a few days later, there was a leave-behind stuffed under the door to let us know the sprinkler heads had been adjusted.

Not long after, there was another wet newspaper. This time I took a picture and printed it out. I circled the newspaper in red and wrote, “wet newspaper.” I also circled puddles of water at the bottom of the driveway. I wrote our name and address on the bottom and marched gently sauntered over to the HOA.

The outer door was open so you could get in the lobby area, but no one was home. There was a sign that they were out for some sort of something … team building? Maybe even the trust fall but probably not customer service. Anyway, we could leave paperwork in the basket. Which I did. And took some candy from the bowl, too.

I hear nothing, so several wet newspapers later, I went back to the HOA. They were home! I knew the person in charge was Cassandra or Lisbeth or some other sort of new-age name, but to me, she’s Oz. Instead, I got Becky or Cathy, the backbone of the organization, who listened to all my questions and then would go back and talk to Oz and then come back and tell me what Oz said, which was not much more than, “We’re working on it.”

At one point, I suggested they change the timers to water at midnight, so the whole show would be over by the time our newspaper was delivered. She said just a minute, went into the back and returned accompanied by the elusive Oz, whose manicure, by the way, was impeccable.

Oz said they can’t change the timers, but they will replace the sprinkler heads with a different type that should prevent this problem in the future. In fact, it was happening today! Such good news and what a coincidence.

I thanked her and explained that I know it’s probably not a common problem, as we are among the few who still get a newspaper. She said she understood, that she loves the smell of a fresh newspaper.

“I wouldn’t know. We  have to bake ours, and the smell is quite unpleasant.”

Maybe it was something I said, but I don’t think they’ve been here yet. That’s OK. One way or another, this will get fixed. I’m retired. I have lots of time and lots of ideas.

Dancing with bad knees

I forgot to mention I had a birthday. I’m 69 now. And damn glad to see it. Aging happily is the gift of having cancer in your 40s. Everything after that is gravy.

As I once wrote, “Sometimes I imagine that I carry around cancer in my pocket like an emergency dollar bill. And sometimes I just have to reach in my pocket and fish it out to remind me that every minute of every day is a gift.”

Even if you haven’t had cancer, you’ve most likely lived through adversity, and it’s my contention we can reframe our sad experiences to remind us of our strength and resilience. Adversity is in our pocket, too.

While it was not exactly pocket-worthy, I did have to pump myself up a bit after I fumbled in the final round of our golf tournament. I still came in second … or as they say in the pageants, runner-up! No tiara for me, but I was hoping I’d play a little better in the final stretch.

So, whew, I’m glad that’s over. In this final stretch of life, I find that competition is overrated. Now is the time on Sprockets when we dance!

Of course, I mean that figuratively, because you know, pain and inflammation and all that. But here we are. Still at it. Finding joy no matter what. Dancing with bad knees.

The aging body is wont to crap out, but I have vowed I will not be part of the club that recites their ailments like baseball stats. Bone-on-bone … that’s my personal favorite. It’s actually a drinking game for old people. Every time someone says bone-on-bone, you take a shot of your protein shake.

I’m sticking with my physical therapy and will save my whining for a professional.

We went to Walgreens to get the new Covid vaccine, and for the first time, we had to check-in using our phones to scan a QR code. We don’t know nothin’ about QR codes. Dale can barely use his phone to text hi, and I say that as his loving partner of 45 years.

It was an unpleasant experience at best. Low-grade profanity was involved, but we finally got it done, and I had to apologize to the pharmacy assistant for my rant about serving old people with technology designed by and for young people. Oh, sorry about you wanting to stay alive, but we’ve got this little test for you first.

I do think she was a little rough on the arm. Note to self: Be nice to the people who poke you.

A good number of you have expressed an interest in volunteering – learning more about my personal journey toward deciding what to do – and reaping the rewards of any pearls of wisdom I may uncover during this quest. Did I mention this time of life is also filled with disappointment? As in you will be disappointed I have nothing new to share.

Well, that’s not completely true. I seem to be very good at talking myself out of potential opportunities. Children scare me, animals are unpredictable, I don’t want to go into anyone’s home, I don’t want to actually talk to anyone, no closed up spaces where I’ll catch any virus that’s going around, I can’t sit all day, I can’t stand all day. I’m sure you understand.

I thought it would be good to ask people I know if they volunteer … how they got into it, etc. But I’m probably not wording it right. They seem a wee bit defensive, mostly because nobody I’ve asked so far said yes.

Anyway, my current strategy is to keep browsing through charity websites, volunteer message boards and the like to see if anything sounds doable. I’m hoping I just haven’t seen the right thing yet. My calling is yet to be revealed! In the meantime, I increased my monthly contribution to the food bank to atone for my lackluster performance.

Pizza therapy

We had company for 10 days, and our guest just left this morning. It was a great visit, but it is weird sharing your space with someone different. Dale and I have lived together more than 46 years, so we have this rhythm that probably seems dysfunctional to everyone else. It’s like osmosis gone bad.

My sister-in-law, our guest, is kind of a picky eater. My sister is as well. That can be challenging for foodies. As a couple, our superpower is that we like virtually anything edible and pretty much eat on the same schedule. That’s good.

Friends used to call us the camels, because we can go all day without consuming much of anything and then make up for it later. That’s bad, because it’s probably not healthy and most people don’t live like that. We forget other people have to eat. Still, we managed and nobody starved.

The solution, like so many solutions, involved pizza – twice – and then separate pies to accommodate topping preferences. I’m not sure pizza as therapy is sustainable, but it works in the short-term.

The weather is betweenish. Cool some days and then back to heat. I’m ready for fall food, but it doesn’t seem quite right. I like it chilly before I start in on the soups and stews. But it’s good golf weather, and in the end, it’s all about golf. We’re currently playing best two out of three rounds for the women’s club championship, and after two rounds, I have a three-stroke lead.

I don’t know how that happened! I’m usually so terrible at competition, but I have worked on my mental game, which must be the key. I believe learning to lose has helped me enjoy the occasional win. That, and physical therapy, which has strengthened my core.

Anyway, the person in second place is a much better golfer, but she hasn’t played as well as she normally does. She will most likely blow me out of the water in the final round. And I’m surprised to find myself looking forward to seeing how I fare, warts and all. I think this is called evolving.

A brief political update:

As regular readers will know, I am a U.S. Army veteran, and my husband is a retired Army major. I was trained as a military journalist at the Defense Information School (DINFOS), which is the same place JD Vance went, except I turned out OK.

For years, I have followed Trump’s disrespect for the military and have been surprised people don’t know the extent of his disdain or do and would vote for him anyway. I thought maybe a little summary would help a few undecideds.

Although I didn’t write it from scratch, I went through all the news accounts, reorganized the information, changed the wording a bit and pieced together a one-pager you may share. Or you can use it as talking points for your political discussions with friends.

“A Shameful Pattern of Disrespect” is here on my downloads page.

Offline and loving it?

Some of you may have noticed my blog was offline for several days. I was experiencing technical difficulties, and while the site was down, I decided to go with it. Just cut the cord and move on.

With my new-found freedom, I made an effort to be more sociable. Livin’ in the real world! I stayed after golf to chat with the other women and made noticeable progress in the category of interpersonal communication. Yeah, that was me, talking it up with the ladies.

For example, one woman was raving about a taco place, and I did not mention that I had just read a county health report on the restaurant, a report that included dead rats, insects and creature poop. No one needs taco trauma.

Another woman said she loved breakfast cereal and often ate it for dinner. Did I alert her to acrylamides or ultraprocessed foods or the fact that I haven’t eaten breakfast cereal in something like 15 years? Oh, no, I did not. Let’s talk breakfast cereal! It’s grrrrrrreat!

Then I tried to talk with my husband about volunteering and the things that are holding me back. You know, the stuff we talk about here.

I said office work might be too confining, but outdoor opportunities might be too much. I recalled my efforts to pick up litter in the neighborhood, and squeezing the trash picker upper messed up my wrists.

He said, oh, yes, I remember that, another one of your fads. That was what we call unwelcome feedback.

Dale’s fine, thanks for asking. It was probably the pizza coming out of the oven that saved him. Time stops for pizza, so he got a pass on that one. I did manage to say that at least I try things. He agreed to call them experiments in the future.

So much for real life. Let’s get back to experiments. That’s what this blog is. An experiment with writing, sharing stories. Experiencing retirement. Connecting with an online community.

Thank you for being part of the journey. As I putzed around while the site was down, I realized this community is small but mighty. We’re not changing the world, but what we do here means something. And it means I didn’t exit the way I had hoped.

While I have boatloads of faults, one of my positive characteristics as a human is that I always try to do the right thing. Leaving everyone hanging did not feel right. After much deliberation and a small fee I chalked up to a relatively inexpensive life lesson, I was able to get the site restored.

Now that it’s up and running, I’ve sort of talked myself into continuing (I never said I was normal). The only downside is self-doubt. The effort to overcome self-doubt is probably worth the price of admission.

My account expires in November, so I’ve got until then to get my shit together. If I decide to quit, I promise to let you know in advance. None of this sneaky snake stuff.

In the meantime, I urge you to subscribe to BoomSpeak, a great online journal where aging writers (including me) share their thoughts and stories. With any luck, that’s where I’ll be if you can’t find me here.

More rambling than usual

While I am exceedingly grateful I survived cancer twice, the experience has turned me into a bit of a hypochondriac. I always assume the worst. I bet you cancer survivors out there know exactly what I mean.

For example, I was at the optometrist this week. There was some sort of anomaly in one of the screening tests, and the assistant said the doctor would decide what to do next. Then she dumped me in a room to wait for the doctor.

It seemed to be taking forever, so I sat there and let my imagination run wild. I assumed they were out there trying to figure out how to tell me I’m going blind. I thought, well, I probably have a few good years. I’ll make the most of it.

The doctor finally appeared and said everything was consistent with all my previous exams. And then it was all which is better, this one or this one?

So silly of me, I know, but also such a sigh of relief. I almost danced my way out of there.

I’m contemplating volunteer options. I started with a list of considerations, because most of the goodness in the universe starts with a solid list. I have dozens of half-filled journals hanging around, and I’m using one of those to document my observations, but I might go crazy and buy a new one. Nothing like a fresh journal to get the juices flowing! Well, maybe a new pen?

Here are the categories so far:

  • Skills/Talents
  • Casual Interests
  • Passionate Interests
  • Groups I Identify With
  • Groups I Prefer to Avoid
  • Activity Level
  • Time Commitment

Although I’m just getting started, I’ve already realized a few things. I do not want to work with children. Nor hospice. I get fired up about current events and am open to volunteering for a political organization, but I need to think that through carefully. Even though I’m a proud Democrat, I’m not sure I want to spend my volunteer time drinking the Kool-Aid with other Democrats. Maybe something nonpartisan, like the League of Women Voters.

At first I thought I’d prefer an office setting. The county website says they sometimes need volunteers for senior legal aid. Doing office work for the lawyers and such. Seemed like a good fit at first, but then I remembered jury duty and how hard it was on my body to sit all day. Even when I write at home, I have to get up a lot and do other things to keep my joints and muscles from rebelling.

Finally, there’s writing, which is a strength and something I do anyway. Is there a way to make that more service-oriented? To experiment, I’m following up on a current theme that is driving me nuts. Trump has stepped in it again with regard to his comments and interactions with military veterans. I’m a veteran, and my husband is retired military.

I feel a calling to help educate voters – you know, eyes wide open. Even if they choose to support him, they’ll know what they’ve signed up for.

However, I haven’t found a concise summary of all the things (and there are many) he has said and done to disparage the military over the years. And what I have found often cherry-picks the most current mess.

When I was on jury duty, both the prosecution and the defense did the same thing with evidence. The information as presented was hard to digest and didn’t seem to tell the whole story. When we went into deliberation, we struggled to make sense of it all and put a lot of effort into making a timeline before we could arrive at a verdict.

We needed to see it in chronological order, and that’s what I’m working on with regard to Trump. I want to see how his comments about veterans unfold over time. I’d like it to be a one-pager that someone could share with a friend or family member who may not realize the broad scope of Trump’s years-long disrespect for the military.

On the entertainment front, I haven’t been reading as much, but there are some great shows streaming. The new season of Hotel Portofino is out on PBS Masterpiece. The show is about an English woman running a hotel on the coast of Italy in the 20s and 30s. Fascism is on the rise, and her family drama makes everything harder than it has to be. PBS is stingy with the once-a-week drop, but that seems to be popular these days.

On Hulu, I’m enjoying Only Murders in the Building with Steve Martin, Martin Short and Selena Gomez. Steve plays a TV has-been, Martin is a semi-washed up Broadway director and Selena is young and wondering what the hell to do with her life. They get together to start a true crime podcast after someone in their building is murdered.

The first episode of the fourth season dropped this week. The show is silly but in a good way. Lots of famous people have small roles, and it’s fun to see who shows up.  Tina Fey, Meryl Steep, Jane Lynch, Mel Brooks, Sting …

Another great show that recently aired on Netflix is Discovery of Witches. I’ve seen it before and vowed I would not watch it again, but here I am on season two. I’ve also read the trilogy! It’s so good, and I’m catching things I missed the first time around.

The story is about vampires, witches and demons, who live by a covenant that says they can’t intermingle. Their powers are fading in the modern age, and a youngish witch seems to be the key to discovering their origins and how they will survive in the future. Oh, and she falls in love with a vampire.

Well, this is longer than my usual post, but that’s why it’s called Rambling Thursday. 

On making a small difference

Now that I’ve had a little time to decompress after serving on jury duty for a month, I’ve decided that if called, I would do it again. While I did not find the experience particularly enjoyable, I believe answering the call if you are able is an important civic responsibility.

I was inspired by the book On Tyranny: Twenty Lessons from the Twentieth Century by Timothy Snyder. He warned we should defend institutions such as courts and laws because when they fall, autocrats rise.

The book is a quick read, but it’s not light. So, yes, heavy stuff, but we now live in a country where some people – with the blessings of the candidate himself – will not say whether they’ll accept the outcome of a free and fair election. Think of this book as a manual for resisting modern-day authoritarianism.

The author encourages all of us to become active in organizations, political or not, that support a civil society and help others to do good. While I donate money to various causes, I’ve mostly been all about enjoying the simple pleasures of retirement. The book made me realize it may also be time to step up and participate in something that matters.

I haven’t decided on what participation looks like for me, but I am definitely in the seeking mode. That would be as opposed to the slouching mode, which is where I’ve pretty much been for the past umpty ump years. I keep thinking – even though I enjoy my life, it could be I haven’t yet discovered why I’m even on this dang planet.

Have you wondered if there’s something new and meaningful out there for you? Something that hasn’t even occurred to you yet?

I’ve certainly wondered before, you know, am I using my time wisely? Am I being selfish? Indulgent? But I mostly turn off the volume and go back to my happy place.

This time I feel different. Ready. Like maybe I can still enjoy the chill retirement life I’ve cultivated and also use what’s left of my skills and talents to make a small difference.

I’m guessing some of you might be pondering the same issues. I’d love to hear your thoughts. And of course, as your official retirement confidant, I’ll be sure to report back on my journey … the continuing saga we call life after work.

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.