My second summer of retirement, and it has been fantastic so far. I’m playing a lot of golf, swimming and eating exceptionally well. Spending a lot of time thinking about cheese. Dale said I was wasting too many brain cells on it, but it’s better than thinking about work or Trump chumming it up with Putin, laughing about election interference.
To be fair, I asked Dale today to confirm the next election is in 2020. Is it really that far away? I mean, we have to listen to all these Democrats until then?
Cheese is way more fun.
So, here’s how I’ve been squandering my time. What if you had to make a list? Only 10 kinds of cheese for the rest of your life. Oh, but that’s too easy. What about only three? That’s also easy, because you have to pick the best of the best. Your go-to cheese. You might not pick one of the most delicious but less versatile cheeses.
I settled on five … you only get to eat five different kinds of cheese. You’re on a desert island, and this is all you get. Of course, you would have full cooking privileges on this island.
You have to think about how you use cheese and how you eat cheese and what’s most important as you whittle down the list. Five gives you a place for the standards yet room for indulgences. Still, as a cheese lover, it’s very difficult. Not difficult as in working for living but a challenge nonetheless.
After much deliberation, here’s my list … in order:
Sharp Cheddar
Whole Milk Mozzarella
Parmigiano Reggiano
Feta
Muenster
The Sophie’s Choice of cheese. The runners up for me included Manchego, Queso Fresco, Pecorino Romano, Havarti, Gorgonzola, Gruyere, Camembert, Chevre and Jalapeno Jack. I’m sorry, cheese, if I left you off. You know I love you all. Even Cheez Whiz has a special place in my heart … but only from a jar, never a can. And only at dusk.
I know there are people who are not into cheese. We, on the other hand, have a drawer in the refrigerator dedicated to cheese. But we also have a tortilla drawer, so that says a lot about us.
What’s your list of five cheeses? That’s all you get. For the rest of your life. In order, please. Additional cheese talk is always welcome.
Maybe this post should be titled, “How I spent my summer vacation.” But preserved radish is on my mind.
I’ve been watching the Deadwood series free on Amazon Prime. I loved it, but the series ended abruptly, leaving me between books and stuck with a lackluster watchlist. I settled on the old Rodgers and Hammerstein musical, Flower Drum Song. I was astonished to discover I knew most of the songs.
old Movies
The movie is dated, and I suspect the Asian community would find it a stereotypical caricature at best. I originally thought it was an all-Asian cast, but I recognized Madame Liang as the same person who played Bloody Mary in South Pacific. Turns out she was African-American. The music and dancing was a great escape that kept me from brooding about the state of the nation as I drifted off to sleep thanking God I am not Trump’s type.
art
My art endeavors have taken a back seat since we transitioned to summer. I’ve been spending more time golfing and swimming. Maybe art will be a seasonal thing for me? Dale always said I needed a winter sport to get through the dark, cold and wet months. As if making pot pie is not a sport.
reading
In theory, I’m reading a history of the California Gold Rush, but I’ve had to accept a harsh truth. I prefer historical fiction. I’m not proud, but there you have it. I like rollicking stories loosely based on fact, which should put me in good stead with the current administration.
golf
Golf is my little crack cocaine of hobbies. Although I am in a women’s golf group, it’s quite regimented, and I’ve discovered I often prefer going out by myself. It feels more like an adventure. Like, ooh, look at me, I’m exploring this lush landscaped universe with strangers and a ball – who knows what will happen? As opposed to, “Ladies, there is an 8 a.m. shotgun start, and all players will be in place at that time.” Way to spoil a party.
cooking
Meanwhile, I’m thinking about food. We both love to eat, but more importantly, we both love to cook, which is a great retirement hobby. You have time to explore recipes and shop for ingredients. You can squander an afternoon making an obscure dish from your travels. You will likely eat well, save money and improve your health.
After enjoying a particular food in the U.S. or overseas,
Dale and I often figure out a way to make the recipe at home. Among successes
that regularly appear on our table are schnitzel from Germany, stacked enchiladas
from New Mexico and Greek salad from Crete.
The Greek salad we enjoyed in Crete is different than what
you might typically get in a restaurant. You need summer tomatoes, which we
have yet to see this year. Do you have any yet? Soon, I believe. When they come
on, we will be ready. Tomato sandwiches! Tomato pie!
As for the salad, coarsely chop tomatoes, cucumber and onion
and arrange on a plate. Top it with a hunk of feta cheese, sprinkle with oregano
and garnish with Kalamata olives. Serve olive oil and red wine vinegar on the
side so everyone pours their own over the salad. Don’t forget crusty homemade
bread for dipping.
I’m gearing up for a couple of dishes that are on the waiting list to try. One would be Shrimp & Grits and the other is Pad Thai. I bought stone-ground grits and made jalapeno cheese grits as a trial run – figuring why waste shrimp until I know what I am doing? Good thing, because my grits were too thin. Grits, damn you, life was easier when I thought you were cream of wheat.
The Pad Thai is a new recipe from the Washington Post. I ventured off to the exotic food store for ingredients we didn’t already have. For us, that store would be 99 Ranch Market, which is truly amazing. It’s like a Viewer’s Choice Chopped basket gone wild.
I visited 99 Ranch on Sunday. I’m still in the hunting and gathering stage for Pad Thai, so I didn’t buy any fresh ingredients for the dish. My list included:
Rice noodles
Palm sugar
Dried shrimp
Sweet preserved radish
Tamarind concentrate
The only thing I couldn’t find is sweet preserved radish. I could make the recipe without it, but what fun is that? I spent forever in the store looking for the radish. Dale, proud Luddite, even charged up his phone to see if I would call home … that’s how long I was gone. I came up empty-handed.
Easy solution. When I got home, I ordered it from Amazon. It should get here today.
I describe myself as aging-indifferent. I don’t have an aching desire to look younger and don’t care much about wrinkles, but I do want clear skin. Sure, I’m just a crazy kid with a dream, but I also don’t want to burn up my retirement savings on fancy products that feed the illusion of youth.
While I acknowledge my skin looks better without the benefit
of the evil magnifying mirror, I do seem to be experiencing mild acne, which I
did not have when I was young. Why now? I don’t know, but I kept saying I
needed to visit a dermatologist so I could get a professional recommendation on
a simple and inexpensive skincare regime.
Then I concluded most derms have their own fancy products and procedures to sell, along with inbred anti-aging bias, and the chances of me getting out of there with a minimalist game plan were slim to none. I started reading.
My objective was to find reasonably priced products I could purchase at my local drugstore and a simple routine even an aging-indifferent minimalist could love … something more gender-neutral, as opposed to beauty-focused. So, first, I settled on a regime. Then I looked at specific products, and ladies and gentlemen, there ain’t no shortage.
I like Neutrogena, even though they are owned by corporate giant Johnson & Johnson, which has some splaining to do over asbestos in its talcum powder of yesteryear. Alas, I’m not a black and white sort of person and mostly swim in the gray areas of life. Sort of like Mayor Pete, who said he didn’t approve of Chick-fil-A’s politics but kind of approves of its chicken.
Better for me to squint and carry on with money in my pocket than to search for some pure and magical potion made by holistic skin fairies in France. I just need some shit for my face.
Here’s where I landed:
Morning
Cleanse – Neutrogena Ultra Gentle Daily Cleanser
Vitamin C Serum – Neutrogena Hydro Boost
Hydrating Serum
Moisturizer – Cera Ve PM Facial Moisturizing
Lotion
Buying a product with the words “wrinkle repair” rather offended my aging-indifferent sensibility, but all my reading suggested retinol would help clear up my skin, so I caved. I started the regime a few weeks ago, and I have been astonished. My face has pretty much cleared up, and despite my best attempts, I look younger. Seriously, my skin looks visibly firmer and brighter.
And, I confess, I like it.
Although I read tons of articles, mostly using search terms dermatologists
and skincare, here are the two that resonated with me:
Are you using retinol? Vitamin C serum? I knew about retinol but missed the day on Vitamin C. According to reports, Vitamin C is an anti-oxidant that protects the skin from the damage of ultraviolet rays and pollution. It also helps the skin absorb collagen, which contributes to your skin’s firmness.
Hey, Donna, how are you? It’s great connecting with you. I came across your profile, and it was very impressive to me. If you don’t mind me asking, what is it you do for a living currently?
Stephanie
Hi Stephanie,
I am retired. I mostly read, write, cook, play golf, hike and putz around in the garage making art (or something like it).
Thanks for your inquiry,
Donna
Hi Donna,
Nice! I’m a business owner expanding in the area. I’m looking for like-minded individuals who are wealth-building focused or extra income could help.
Are you looking for an opportunity to make extra income?
Stephanie
Hi Stephanie,
No, thank you. I appreciate your interest.
Donna
As I have said many times, I would go back to work if I had
to for financial reasons or if something struck a passion. In the meantime, school’s
out for summer!
Here’s how I spent yesterday, an ordinary Friday. Proof you don’t have to travel the world or spend a fortune to enjoy retired life (unless you want to).
Scanned the news and did the NY Times mini puzzle in bed. Got up around 7 a.m.
Breakfast of fresh strawberries, yogurt and homemade granola. Coffee and juice. Newspaper.
Computer time.
Scrubbed the shower.
Wiped down the plantation shutters upstairs.
Walked for an hour.
Had Dale videotape me from behind whilst swinging a club and wearing my new golf skort to ensure no butt exposure. There was more exposure than I intended, but I’m going with it anyway!
Practiced putting on the putting mat out in the garage.
Brushed the kitty. Fur bombs everywhere.
Got a new Indian Instant Pot cookbook from the library the day before and began to compare and contrast recipes from the Indian Instant Pot cookbook I already own. Discovered you can cook rice at the same time as the main dish if you have the right tools, so spent some time researching on Amazon.
Accompanied Dale to the market to buy cheese for the evening’s menu and sushi for my lunch.
Watched several hours of U.S. Open golf tournament. Repeated, “Phil, you fucking idiot” many times. Had supermarket sushi and a light beer for lunch on a TV tray while I watched the Open.
Did my upper body weight routine.
Swam in our pool for about 20 minutes. Bobbed around for a while. Dried out under the sun and then came in to get cleaned up for happy hour.
Watched more golf and then helped Dale with dinner – pizza on the outside pizza oven.
Opened a bottle of Zinfandel we buy at a local winery for $7 a bottle.
Listened to some music while we enjoyed pizza on the patio. Dug into the vinyl vault for Kansas (because we love Dust in the Wind) and a little Clash because you can’t go wrong there.
Went to bed early. Like 8:30 or so. It was a cool night, so the windows were open.
Just another day of retirement! Work? Not missing it.
There’s a monster cottonwood tree behind our house. I believe this tree is also known as a poplar, but it is not popular in our area, because it drops fuzz bombs into our pools. The annual dropping of the cotton is about over, and thank goodness. One can scoop the pool and an hour later, it looks like a feather bed.
I made up a song to lighten the mood (sung to the tune of Here Comes Peter Cottontail). You can sing it while you scoop … a fun exercise for the aging homeowner!
Here comes Mr. Cottonwood,
Fucking up the neighborhood.
Aging in front of each other
One of the weird things about getting older is watching your partner get older while you remain impossibly young. Just kidding. We’re both aging – aging well – and grateful for the opportunity – but still, once you’ve purchased pre-moistened butt wipes, you kind of see the world in a different way.
Dale came home from grocery shopping with a nice haircut,
and I complimented him. He just turned 70, and I said, “You don’t look 70 at
all!” He got all puffy and happy, pleased with the positive feedback. Something
compelled me to add:
“Although you do look old when you run.”
Ouch. I felt bad, but he got me back a few days later. Dale was cooling off after a run and said, “Just so you know. I tried to run like I was 69.”
The man is hilarious. And a helpmate.
Babs, it could be your hippocampus
Dale alerted me to an impending disaster involving my hippocampus, a part of your brain that has nothing to do with the amount of weight you gained in college.
The hippocampus is apparently integral to spacial navigation. Evidence suggests relying on GPS turn-by-turn directions gives the hippocampus a free ride, but it needs to be active to protect against cognitive decline. You can read about it here.
I have never had a good sense of direction and happily celebrated the advent of GPS. A little voice telling me where to go and how to get there? What could be so wrong? Now, however, I’m left wondering if my hippocampus is congenitally deficient, and does that mean I have a higher risk of Alzheimer’s?
Dr. Dale doesn’t think so. I just need to exercise it more, you know, run like I’m 69. He suggested I use my cellphone GPS to get directions but put it away and drive from memory.
This week I played golf at a course I’ve been to before, but I always use GPS to get there. I did what Dale said, and I was there and back again with no detours. I do think it’s a good thing to pass on the turn-by-turn, unless I’m in a completely unfamiliar area. At that point, it’s a safety issue.
All this pleases Dale, and not just because he cares about my welfare. He likes real maps with grids and weird directions like north, south, east and west. And all that nonsense about where the sun rises and sets. I liked it better when the voice just told me which way to go. Left or right.
In the continuing adventures of a retiree dabbling for the first time in visual arts, I present Gladys, the sun goddess.
We found Gladys in the backyard while having our fence repaired. She was stuck behind a tree, and the fence guys pulled her out and set her aside. I immediately thought, “Trash to treasure!”
Steps:
Wash
Air dry
Sand (I used a Dremel tool)
Wipe clean
Spray with anti-rust metal primer
Apply Gesso (Liquitex) acrylic primer
Paint with acrylics
Cure for 72 hours
Seal with Liquitex varnish
Now, I guess it’s just a matter of finding a place for her in the backyard. She’s not perfect, but I like her. The biggest lesson learned was about primer. Metal primer alone is not a good foundation for acrylic paint. You still need acrylic primer to get a glossy coating.
Also, my hand is not all that steady for detail work, and I have no freehand skills to speak of. But that’s OK. I’m having fun and taking advantage of retirement as an opportunity to explore a whole new side of myself.
If you’re thinking about dabbling, I am reminded of these words by a colleague who was also a talented artist. I asked him how he knew he had artistic talent. He said, “There’s no such thing as artistic talent. You either do art or you don’t.”
Most of us adapt to idiosyncrasies of the workplace to earn
a living, but what happens to those behaviors when you retire? Do you still
sound like the person from work, or is your inside voice blurring a bit with
your outside voice?
My inside/outside voice conflict goes back many years, when
an Army lieutenant alerted me to the possibility I might not need to say
everything I think.
I was an enlisted journalist in the Army and worked in the Public Affairs Office at Ft. Bragg, N.C. We were part of the 18th Airborne Corps, which was often sent to global hotspots to assist in disaster relief. They’d usually send a journalist to help with press releases and such. I never got to go.
One day, I approached the lieutenant in charge and asked him
why I wasn’t selected for these assignments. He said, “Pekar, it has something
to do with what’s between your nose and your chin.”
Although I never did get asked to go, I managed to get out of the Army unscathed and eventually learned to keep my mouth shut, which was definitely career-enhancing.
Retirement reduced my exposure to annoying situations, but it’s hard to avoid them completely. I recently played golf with a woman who announced she was extremely sensitive to sounds. She had rabbit ears and could hear even the tiniest whisper, requiring absolute silence when it was her turn to play. Even the rustling of a potato chip bag was terribly disturbing to her.
I got paired with her again a few weeks later, and she got into a snit about scoring. Rules for the women’s golf club events are rather persnickety. We all keep each other’s score, and you have to capture that information at the end of each hole played.
Around the fourth hole, she got a little huffy about our process for swapping scores and announced her demands for how it would be done going forward.
Good thing I spent my career learning “advanced” communication skills to get through challenging scenarios without injury or lawsuits. Please select the best response:
A) Thank you for sharing that. Let’s collaborate when we get to the next hole and get some consensus on a win-win solution.
B) I appreciate your perspective – and to build on that – I recommend we circle the wagons on the next hole and get input from the rest of the team.
C) Great idea! Let’s pulse the team and see if everyone’s on board.
D) Who died and left you in charge?
I chose D, haunted by the voice from the ethics videos we used to watch, “That is not your best choice.” Still, shit like this goes on in my head all the time, but I’ve learned to suppress it. Even on the golf course, I allow myself to be bossed around because it’s easier than conflict.
When we got to the next hole, she said, “Did you just ask me who died and left me in charge?” I said, yes, I did. She never spoke another word to me.
I hope I wasn’t too much of a jerk, and I hope I’m not put to the test again any time soon. However, it’s kind of interesting how it turned out. I shot my best score ever. What’s up with that?
A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, I worked for a gas and electric utility and was in charge of planning a year-long celebration of the company’s 150th anniversary. My boss’s boss was something of a terror and legend, and we were summoned to brief her on our progress.
I had this fat binder with notes, plans, drafts – all organized with plastic tabs. These were pre-technology days, at least for me.
The boss and I sat in big boss’s big office at the top of our high-rise, where she fired question after question. I flicked through tabs and answered every inquiry. I knew my shit, and I was en fuego. My boss looked pleased.
Then big boss paused. Took a deep breath and looked down at my feet. “Donna,” she said, “Wherever did you get those ugly shoes?”
I mumbled something about them being in style, but of
course, they weren’t. I’ve always had a penchant for ugly shoes. Thick soles!
Chunky heels! Oxfords! Clogs! Man repellers.
And so it would appear in retirement, I haven’t lost my touch. I usually wear Crocs or Birkenstocks around the house. The rest of my shoe wardrobe is pretty much more Birkenstocks and Keen.
Although I’m stingy with my retirement dollars, I shelled out $50 for the Hoka Recovery Slide. These things are heavenly, especially after a really long walk. Better arch support than my Birkies and just super comfortable all around. It actually never occurred to me they were ugly until Dale said something.
Yeah, OK, they’re ugly. The thing is, he knows I don’t care. And really, he doesn’t care either. Just an opinion, like so many others, he feels the need to share … and I feel compelled to ignore.
Lazy Entertainment
While I do get plenty of exercise, I also enjoy lazy retirement entertainment. I just started watching the original Deadwood series, which is free on Amazon Prime. I’m hooked on it now, although South Dakota in 1876 was dark, violent and lawless. I like to think the universe led me to this show so I could compare and contrast and realize things today aren’t as bad as they seem.
I started watching Deadwood because I heard about the new HBO movie and wanted to see the original before I went down that path. I also heard some cast members playing songs on Sirius Outlaw Country. The song Katie Cruel sung by Karen Dalton absolutely blew me away.
Dale started watching a YouTube channel called AvE, in which a foul-mouthed Canadian tears apart electronics to see if they’re worthy. I got sucked in because I could hear Dale snorting over there, and well, you know, he had me at snort. It doesn’t seem like anything I would care for – I know nothing about electronics – but the guy is hilarious.
Oh, and Tanya Harding won Worst Cooks in America: Celebrity Edition. She seemed vulnerable and likable, and I am happy for her. May there be redemption for us all.
It occurred to me I spend a lot of time cleaning up after
our cat, Riley, and he doesn’t even like me.
My husband said I was being too harsh. Of course, Riley likes me. Maybe. But he definitely likes Dale better. Riley jumps up on the table in the morning to say hi to Dale, but unless I have butter nearby, I don’t even get a passing meow.
Dale feeds him, and I suppose that explains why Riley is a daddy’s cat. But I deliver fresh tuna juice to him wherever he may happen to be resting. That ought to count for something. Riley is a long-haired cat, so I groom him at least every other day. I pre-heat his spa table (the clothes dryer). I try to be a good mother.
Sometimes he likes it, especially those long, slow strokes
on the chin, but sometimes he doesn’t. My goal is to keep him mat-free. If I
should find what we call a protomat and loosen it with my army of cat grooming
tools, he’s still gentle and tolerant but not very happy. I wonder if he holds
a grudge.
Speaking of grudges, I found this article about letting go of your grudges fascinating. I assumed I don’t hold grudges, but as I started to think about it, more than one came to the surface. I was appalled to find myself in the category of nurturing a grudge … holding onto it like a pet.
The good news is you can train yourself to forgive and move
on by reframing the result. And lucky for us, retirement is a good time to
de-grudge, because you don’t really want to spend the rest of your quality time
stewing over stuff that went down a long time ago, do you?
My grudge involved a mentor who steered my career in an
unwelcome direction. As a result, I had one dreadful year, the worst experience
of my life including cancer, but when all was said and done, I ended up in
California, where I wanted to be all along. And I got to retire! Maybe it’s
time to let go.
The article links to a quiz
that ranks your grudge on a scale of one to 10. I took it twice for the same
grudge, as described above, and it was a four the first time I took it and a
three the second time. Maybe even taking the quiz helped me see it wasn’t as
awful as I thought. I’ve reframed the experience as a success story, a survival
story, and I am now working on personal forgiveness for the grudgee.
I have to say the political atmosphere in the U.S. and
around the world makes me sad and angry. I partially blame social media, so
that would be another grudge. But I do think the current situation is bigger
and deeper than social media, which just escalates the underlying causes.
There’s a meanness I don’t recall seeing in my lifetime. Hostility expressed at the speed of light about every little thing – way beyond holding grudges. My heart breaks every time I hear anti-Semitic, racist, homophobic bullshit. And I’ll just say this. It’s a good time to be post-uterus.
I’ve had this John Prine song on my brain. The Lonesome
Friends of Science:
The lonesome friends of science say
“The world will end most any day”
Well, if it does, then that’s okay
‘Cause I don’t live here anyway
I live down deep inside my head
Well, long ago I made my bed
I get my mail in Tennessee
My wife, my dog, my kids, and me
John Prine
On the bright side, I went for a walk and June is bustin out all over. All this darkness, yet there they are, luscious flowers, springing with life. The Maui hiker survived! Navy pilots are reporting unexplained flying objects. Let’s hope they are aliens and way nicer than us.
With apologies to the men who read Retirement Confidential, this post is about hair, thinning hair and hair loss among women. My husband is bald and has been practically since he was a teenager, so if you are a man and have experienced hair loss, I’m on your team!
Women often have a complex relationship with hair. Too long, too short, too thin, too thick, too frizzy … never good enough. My thin hair is probably as long as it has ever been, I do next to nothing with it and I like it as much as I ever have. I finally went for a trim, and I was worried my stylist would want to chop more off, but she’s on board.
I planned my retirement hair to be healthy and low-maintenance. Some people go super short, and I like that look very much. I just like this better on me. Since I wear it longer and all one length, I only get it trimmed two or three times a year.
Yes, I’m also hoping to avoid hair loss. While hair loss can be genetic and/or hormonal, I do my best to avoid damage. No dye, no heat, no chemical processes, no silicones.
Well, I say no heat, but I have cheated. Last year, I think I only blow dried my hair three times. I’m going for zero this year. Air drying is less damaging, and I also find the slight wave makes my thin hair look fuller than if I’d blown it smooth.
We could argue all day about the pros and cons of products with silicones, but I stopped using them a few years ago. Silicone does make my hair look shiny and smooth in the short-term, but it’s essentially a plastic coating, and I can’t think of anything good about that long-term. It took awhile, but my hair adjusted to being plastic-free.
For me, less is more. I only shampoo and condition twice a week at night so I go to bed with slightly damp hair. Somehow that makes my hair look better in the morning. I use a boar-bristle brush to distribute the oils.
I wear my hair up a lot. And I wear a hat when I play golf
or go out in the sun/wind. I talked with my stylist about hair loss, because I
see so much of it among women – particularly on the back of the head.
She said while my hair is naturally thin and fine, I don’t have any hair loss to speak of, although it’s beginning to thin around the temples. I could probably disguise that with bangs, but bangs make the rest of my hair look thinner, so there’s always a price to pay.
I’m not sure what I’d do if my hair starts to go. When I was bald from chemo, I didn’t wear a wig. I wore a little bandanna styled like a do-rag, and it looked pretty cute. I could also see me in a buzz cut. Patti at Not Dead Yet Style has been open about her hair loss. She wears adorable wigs. Ronni at Times Goes By talked about wearing berets to cover up thinning hair.
For now, I’m just trying to keep the hair I have. But
honestly, if it goes, it goes. We have lots of options.
