I’m pretty good with Word, PowerPoint and Excel, but that stretches the limits of my technical expertise. When I started this blog, WordPress was supposed to be easy, but for me, it has been anything but.
From the very beginning, I had problems downloading a theme and experienced subsequent issues with the banner across the top … because it wouldn’t go across the top. That’s why I always had a weird box with the blog name in it.
The details are mind-numbing, so I’ll spare you that, other than to say a whole year went by, and I only discovered today my theme was linked to the wrong site. I guess that’s why shit didn’t work.
I’ve uploaded a new theme, and that took me through lunch because I was scared to push the publish button. Or as they say in the South, I was afraid to mash the button. Lots of reading on the Help site and lots of f-bombs later, but I did it!
I rather like the new template. It’s certainly easier than the one that didn’t work. All my content appears to have migrated, but please do let me know if you notice something missing or have problems commenting. My email is on the contact page.
I’ll probably tweak it as I go, but this is it for now. Only so many accomplishments in one day. I hope you find it easy to read and navigate. As always, I welcome your feedback.
It’s a cold messy rainy day, and I’m thinking about tuna. I got to thinking about tuna because I love tuna and Dale was thinking about potato chips. If you put the two together, it adds up to a chunky tuna salad sandwich with just the right amount of mayonnaise and dill pickles or perhaps a creamy tuna melt with cheddar on sourdough and a side of crispy chips. Crinkles?
Perfect for a rainy day. Unless you’re thinking about tuna casserole.
That’s what I’m thinking about, anyway. I haven’t made it in years, but tuna casserole is on my brain now. I recall egg noodles, cream of mushroom soup, peas and a topping of crushed potato chips. Probably some cheese involved, and that can’t be a bad thing. I never met a cheese I didn’t like.
I looked through some of our old cookbooks and couldn’t find the combination of ingredients that spoke to me. So far, this recipe sounds the best. It’s a bit boujee compared to what I grew up with, but it sounds good to me. I would probably add some peas.
Certainly, there are those among you who do not care for canned tuna and are horrified by the thought of tuna casserole. It’s hard to fathom, but I know everyone has different tastes. I bet a bunch of us still love it.
I’m excited about making tuna casserole … but I don’t know, the tuna melt sounds good. Maybe with corn chips? I’ll probably cook tomorrow, since we are actually going out tonight (a rare occurrence). A new Asian bistro opened up not too far from our house, and it’s getting good reviews. Rain is forecast through the end of the week.
I tell you all this so you have time to send me your tuna tips. Thanks in advance.
I try not to pay attention to the stock market, but it has been awfully difficult to see it flitting about as it has. My nest egg hasn’t taken too big of a hit, but that’s a fluke.
You’ll remember back in October, I rolled over my 401K from my former employer’s plan administrator to an IRA with Morgan Stanley, where the rest of the money is invested. That transaction was completed just before the market started dropping, so I saved a nice chunk of money by accident.
Although I am no longer working, I don’t plan to start withdrawing money from my retirement account for another three years. I still have a few long-term incentives from work. Add Dale’s military retirement, his social security and cash we set aside, and we’re doing fine.
Our adviser suggested we park the IRA in something safe until we had more insight into what the market is up to. We’ve been talking regularly, and by that, I mean he regularly talks me off the ledge.
Bob Lowry at Satisfying Retirement had an excellent post along with thoughtful comments submitted by readers about managing your portfolio in retirement. I’ve since seen more than a few horror stories from the Great Recession.
For example, I read this in bed during one of my 2 a.m.
financial retreats:
“Between October 2007 and March 2009, the S&P lost 55
percent of its value. An investor with $1 million exposure to an S&P fund
would have lost $550,000 in the span of 17 months.”
Yikes!
While impacts were felt across the board, I believe those hit hardest were people heavily invested in stocks. And that begs the question – what’s the right balance of equities and safer assets? I’m barely literate when it comes to finance, so please don’t mistake me for someone who knows anything. I can only share my own experiences.
There is no single solution. There’s no magic bullet. Some people can tolerate more risk than others. Some people have more money to play with. Some people have less. Our adviser suggested a 50/50 split, but that seemed too aggressive to me. I’ve read that’s actually a conservative allocation.
Just to make it confusing, factor in we don’t have children and don’t plan to leave an estate. We’re on board with the “Die Broke” approach, but because we are financially conservative by nature, it’s unlikely we will actually die broke. In our case, big growth is not a requirement. Our investment philosophy is hang onto the money we have and keep pace with inflation.
I talked again with our adviser, and we settled for now on a 35/65 allocation. For us, that means 35 percent in index funds and 65 percent in bonds and money market investments. There’s still a bit of risk, but we could ride out a recession if we had to – and maybe I can get some sleep.
Retirement planning isn’t easy, especially when you are already retired! In weak moments, I blame corporate America for abandoning pensions and forcing financial illiterates such as ourselves to eke out a retirement plan. But it is what it is, and we are fortunate to have a good adviser with a solid plan that includes Dale’s military pension.
For most of us, managing money is one of retirement’s greatest challenges. I say accept it, learn all you can and seek expert advice, if needed. I’m feeling pretty good since we settled on a prudent approach for our future.
As for words of wisdom, I’ll quote Bob’s conclusion, “Whatever
comes now we believe we can handle it. And, that is a great feeling.”
Dale and I love tamales and usually buy them fresh at the farmer’s market. However, we’ve been talking about making them ourselves and finally decided to just do this thing.
I like to research everything to death, and Dale flies by the seat of his pants. I pulled out the Diana Kennedy cookbooks and read up on the historic art of tamale making. I studied masa from A to Z, while Dale played computer games and thought about tamales.
He surprised me by sharing he spotted all critical tools and ingredients at the local market I’ve been to once. When did he go? Is this what he does while I’m playing golf? Cruising the markets looking for who knows what?
We were ready to make our trek to the market, when I asked
about filling. He unilaterally decided to make a pork filling he’d apparently
unearthed on the Internet. I might have liked a vote, consulted with Diana and
others, but it sounded good to me, and it was one less thing I had to worry
about.
The market delivered as promised. They had pre-prepared masa, husks and even a tamale steamer, which we bought because none of the other 10,000 pots we have would work.
For the filling, Dale braised a pork butt in the oven with not much more than an onion. After it cooled, he shredded it and added his homemade chile sauce. That’s all there was to filling. But then I didn’t make it, and I know chile sauce is messy work involving the rehydration of dried pepper pods. I find it in our freezer already made!
We set up the work station. Dough, soaked husks, filling. We began to prep and realized neither one of us knew how to roll these things. The masa was too thick, so we added a bit of juice from the pork butt to thin it out.
As for rolling, we were in hysterics trying to figure it out. The first one Dale made looked like a monster burrito, and I weighed it just to see. The mother of all tamales weighed in at nine ounces. I wanted to name it El Hefe, but Dale insisted on El Capitan. I mean, wrap it in a pizza and it could be on the menu at Taco Bell.
They got smaller after that, but I never did understand the art of the roll. Dale was better at it than I was. They were looking like tamales, and we were argument-free, when we began to discuss steam time.
Dale’s sources, real or imagined, said 45 minutes. Diana (real) said two to three hours. That’s quite a discrepancy. We pulled out other cookbooks, and yes, it varied from 45 minutes to three hours. How do you know?
We decided it probably depends on how many are in there and the thickness of the masa. The problem was I did not want to be starving at 8 p.m. waiting another hour because the masa wasn’t cooked.
I thought this would be the big fight, but we got through it without incident, probably because neither one of us was really sure about anything. It’s harder to pick a fight when you have no ground to stand on. We decided to make them early and then reheat when it was time for dinner.
The tamales took about two hours. They were probably too thick, and the rolling technique was inconsistent and weird. However, they were absolutely delicious! We had them two nights in a row and then froze the rest in their husks. A decadent treat we learned in Texas is tamales smothered in chili.
All in all, it was way fun. We laughed a lot because we were so outside our comfort zones. As retirement partners, I highly recommend taking on a joint project of some sort. Something where you have basic skills, but you are stretching them to new limits, so you learn together.
The whole experience reminded me of a team-building exercise from work, except you can use the f-bomb, and we got to kiss at the end.
I made another batch of cannabis balm, and it occurred to me I never shared the complete recipe. Be sure to try commercial cannabis balm before investing in tools. Buy some at your local dispensary and make sure:
A) It works for you
B) You can’t live without it
C) You’d like to save money
D)
You are willing to go to the trouble of making it at home
It’s easy to make more than just cannabis balm at home – tincture, edible butter, magical oils and bath salts to name a few – and for me they all start with a Magical Butter Machine. Cost is $175, but I’m close to the break-even point by now.
The other tool I use is the NOVA Decarboxylator by Ardent. It’s $210. I like the ease and effectiveness of the machine, which heats and fully activates the THC in your flower. However, I have also used a covered glass casserole.
To decarb without a machine: Break up flowers and small pieces with your hands – add to the casserole and cover – cook at 250°F for 30 minutes. This technique is less precise than the NOVA, but it worked fine for me.
The balm is made in two phases. Phase I is making the infused coconut oil. Phase II is the balm itself. Ratios of cannabis-to-oil vary by recipe, but this is how I make it.
Cannabis-Infused
Coconut Oil
1 ounce of decarboxylated cannabis flowers and/or trim (look for strains on sale, preferably high in CBD).
Place the ingredients into your Magical Butter Machine, and secure the head.
Press the Temperature button, and select 160°F; then press the 2
Hours/Butter button.
After the cycle is complete, unplug the unit at the outlet, and remove the head of the appliance. Put on the special glove that comes with the machine and pour the pitcher contents slowly through the filter that also comes with the machine into an airtight container. I use a mason jar.
Essential oils (I use 9 drops of Tea Tree and 9 drops of
Peppermint)
Put all ingredients in the Magical Butter Machine at 160°F
for one hour.
I like to hang close to the MBM while it makes the balm, because wax firms up quickly, and you want to get it out while very liquid. Once it’s ready, some people whip it, but I don’t see the point. I pour it directly into the jars and let it sit for awhile before refrigerating. The balm will keep nicely in the fridge. I pull one jar out at a time and leave it on the bathroom counter. It stays fairly firm but liquefies in your hands.
For clean-up, I use a combination of wet/dry paper towels. Beeswax will trash your kitchen sponge.
As for usage, in my opinion, you’re not getting the maximum benefits unless you apply it every day, preferably twice a day. An occasional missed application is fine. I have neurological pain across my mastectomy scars, so I use it all over my chest. I also focus on my knees and spine. If you don’t include expenses for the MBM and NOVA, cost is about $4 per ounce versus $20 per ounce for commercial balm.
If I’m extra-sweet, Dale will massage it in thoroughly, which seems to make it work better. At least that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
How long did it take you to decompress from work and adjust to being retired? Right from the get-go, I was happy to be done with my job and thought that meant I had adjusted, but I was wrong. Just read through some of my old posts, and you can see how my thinking has evolved.
Work? Not work? Who am I without a job? Who was I with a job? What’s my purpose? Is there a second act? Do we have to reinvent ourselves? Aren’t we pretty OK already?
Life’s eternal questions. I kind of stopped thinking about them and focused on what made me feel good and what made me happy. Amazingly, my creative juices are flowing. I’ve been feeling artistic!
While writing is an art, I’ve never been otherwise inclined to pursue artistic activities. My crafty quilting sister got those genes. If I needed help with a Halloween costume or gift packaging, she would take my emergency phone calls from Michaels, where I panic. Seriously, what is all this stuff?
And in minutes, she’d talk me off the ledge. She’s the Michaels Whisperer, “OK, stand with your back facing the door. Go three aisles down and turn right. Look up. No, not that way. 3 o’clock. Bend your knees slightly and reach out in front of you. Pick up the tube on the left. Glitter glue.”
So, where to start? I took this quiz, and it said I am destined to be a print maker. I got a book from the library, and making prints looks hard. Actually, everything looks hard.
I’m calling in all my lifelines for help deciding how I will scratch this itch. I have virtually no experience making art, unless you count a ceramic ashtray I made in grade school and cookies decorated with royal icing. My friend, Carole, who is an artist, recommended decoupage. I went to the library and got a book on decoupage. Looks doable.
My sister warned me I need to be patient. Immediate results are not to be expected. Like I need to be warned about patience! I don’t have time for such nonsense! We’ll be talking this weekend, when she will share other important sisterly advice.
I’ve been thinking about what might come naturally pursuant to my interests. I like things with function. Surfaces like wood, glass, ceramic and tin. I like kitchen stuff. I’ve been doodling spirals since I was a kid. I see more spirals in my future.
It’s exciting to think about getting started in art, but it’s even more exciting to think my brain is finally in this place. This is year two of retirement, but my first full year. I’m decompressing from my work life and embracing my creative urges. Urges I didn’t even know I had.
Are you an artist? Or have you found a new creative side of yourself in retirement? How’s it going?
As for other creative urges, Dale and I are embarking on a journey this weekend to make tamales from scratch. You know there will be a story.
Red sky at night, sailors’ delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Does anyone know what pink sky at morning means? It has been cold by my puny standards, and rain is on the way. Wusses take warning?
I was all jammied up when I went out to the backyard to take this picture of sunrise over the Sierra foothills. Something about a pink sky makes me happy … particularly happy to be retired with nothing on the agenda and a full pot of coffee on the counter.
Dale and I jokingly call it “California Cold.” That means anything below 50. I had to force myself to go out for my long walks this week, so I over-bundled, which is my signature winter style. When we go out, Dale and I look like we’re dressed for different hemispheres.
Yesterday I played my first round of golf in 2019. It was in the high 30s when we were scheduled to start. Yikes! I was wearing so many layers it was amazing I could even hit the ball. But it warmed up nicely, and we had a great time out there.
I don’t make resolutions, but I had given thought to focusing more on my social game. There was a frost delay, so I chatted up some of the other players while we stayed warm in the clubhouse and mentioned my New Year’s resolution was to party more. That got some laughs and cheers.
Just saying, but it seems like the popular girls wanted to hang out with me after that. I learned one of my playing partners has a husband who grows pot! She’s going to bring me a little jar of bud, and I’m going to bring her a little jar of my homemade cannabis balm. A gift exchange! Dale thought that was hilarious. I mean, we’re still shocked you can go out in the backyard to smoke a joint, and no one can call the police.
My more relaxed attitude certainly helped my golf game. I had two birdies and a chip-in par for a grand total of 88. My best score ever is 84, and that was several years ago. I’m essentially a bogey golfer, which is fine, but I would like to improve, and who knows? With a little more partying, I might just do that. I have a golf buddy in Georgia who enjoys her rounds with a Bloody Mary in tow.
I’m not sure if it’s the weather or what, but my sciatica has been acting up, along with my right wrist, which I broke several years ago. I’ve been making sure to brave the cold and keep walking, using the cannabis balm twice daily and sleeping with a brace on my wrist. Seems to be working!
Oh. A word about the cannabis bath salts. I got the water super hot for my first bath and soaked 30 minutes or so. I felt remarkably pain-free that evening. But the next bath wasn’t as hot, and I’m also wondering if my cannabis-infused oil wasn’t evenly distributed, because I didn’t feel much. Two baths use 1/4 cup of infused oil. That’s kind of a lot, which sort of hints that it has great potential, but for now I prefer to use the topical balm I make with infused oil and beeswax.
I will say my aches and pain improved dramatically after I retired. That 2.5-hour commute on the bus to what was basically a desk job did nothing for my body. I don’t even complain too much about housework, because I figure it’s good for me.
For the record, I have attempted to lure Dale into the Housework-is-Healthy-and-Fun club, but he continues to resist. Although full credit due – he loads a mean dishwasher.
Cooking is part of our retirement lifestyle – more affordable and overall a healthier and tastier choice. We make some incredible food, but we’ve also experienced epic failures over the years. There might be one in the refrigerator now. I’ll make Dale taste it and see.
He’s used to it. You know when the date on the milk has expired, but you think it’s probably still good? And you don’t really want to be the one to find out? We call that Dead Milk Walking. Dale’s like the medieval taste tester who determines whether we live or die.
Today it isn’t milk. Although I did have two consecutive batches
of yogurt fail. I seem to be on a roll. The culprit is chicken liver pâté I
made yesterday for our New Year’s Eve spread at home. I have strong suspicions it
will be awful. I don’t even want to taste it.
I gently suggested to Dale he ought to check it out first. I think he’ll do it. If he likes it, I’m in. But if he declares it inedible, the pâté is headed for the garbage disposal. I can live with the occasional cooking failure, but I hate wasting food. Chicken livers were cheap, but that would also be nearly a pound of butter down the drain.
For the record, I don’t like innards, including liver. The exception is pâté. Oh, and leberknödel, a liver dumpling we used to eat in Germany. I tried to make them once, and they count as an epic failure. I have fond memories of kalbsleberwurst, a veal liver sausage we enjoyed in Germany – especially when spread on hearty German bread. That’s it. No hearts, no gizzards, no tripe, no kidneys.
The pâté was easy enough to make. I rinsed and patted dry the livers, and then cooked them in a pile of butter with shallots, parsley, fresh thyme. Ignited some brandy and added that. A bit of red wine. Simmered it for awhile and then let it cool to room temp. Poured it into the blender and slowly added chunks of butter. I divided it into three little tubs, thinking I would freeze two … if they should survive the taste test.
So, here we are. Decision time. The rest of our feast is store-bought for a change and includes smoked salmon, which we purchased at Whole Foods (Ducktrap Kendall Brook got good reviews). A wee bit of sustainable White Sturgeon caviar from Sterling, a runny brie and a good California Blanc de Blancs Champagne. We have some crackers, and we’ll probably buy a baguette today. I make thin buckwheat pancakes for the caviar.
There’s plenty to eat. We don’t really need the pâté. When I gathered the food up for the photo opportunity, it looked like one of those picture puzzles. Which one doesn’t belong? It smells OK, but it looks nasty.
Our ritual is to spread the treats out on the coffee table using fancy dishes and watch a movie. I haven’t seen midnight in years.
THIS JUST IN: Dale tasted the pâté and declared it excellent! Now that the coast was clear, I followed suit, and I agree — it’s actually delicious. Nice firm texture but still creamy. It should be good on the crackers with a little bite of cornichon on the side.
Happy New Year! May things never be worse than they are.
Today is the magical day of putting Christmas to rest. I would have jumped on it two days earlier, but golf was calling. This morning I started to deconstruct the tree and will soon begin putting the ornaments to rest. If I could give them a lethal injection, I would.
Oh, stop! Not really.
I will make Dale drag the tree to the driveway, where he will chop it up with a chainsaw and stuff it into the yard waste bin. It’s easier than taking it to the recycling center, and I suppose it’s possible he works out some frustration imagining he’s practicing for the real thing.
Yes, I read too many crime novels.
Perhaps I should deconstruct my perspective on Christmas. I’m not sure there’s any there, there. I just don’t like it much and can’t wait for it to be over. Nothing bad happened on Christmas when I was a child … no dead Santa Dads in the chimney. My sister is beside herself with joy during the holidays, and Dale is his usual jolly self, so obviously I missed something.
And you know what? I’m rolling with it. I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole retirement thing and all the helpful articles about reinventing ourselves for our second act and overdosing on an abundance of gratitude.
I must admit I am pretty grateful, and at least gratitude takes the heat off of mindfulness, which must be tired after such a long slog. Me? I just keep marching forward, although I always thought I could do even better. I told myself I had not yet reached my full potential.
While the reinvention message spoke to me at first, lately it has become nothing more than noise. The thing is, I’m not sure I can do better. I was incredibly lucky to earn an excellent living mostly by being literate. I worked for great corporations and organizations, but I was never a true believer. The mission, the vision, the values? Just widgets.
In hindsight, it’s entirely possible I peaked.
At first, the idea I had peaked was kind of hard to accept, but I let it simmer awhile, and it’s starting to take hold. At least I made it to the endgame with a decent retirement. I can still evolve as a human, and it’s possible a professional opportunity will surprise me.
But with every retirement day that passes, I find that I enjoy just being alive without the pressure to earn a living, reinvent the wheel or memorize the vision statement.
The Happy Holidays backlash mystifies me. Not everybody celebrates Christmas. I’m not scared.
Complaints about being politically correct don’t hold with me. I believe most PC terms reflect how people want to be addressed or acknowledged. I don’t think of it as being PC to say Happy Hanukkah or Happy Solstice or Happy Kwanzaa or the all-encompassing … Happy Holidays.
If holiday greetings are about spreading love, why can’t we share our kindness and good cheer with people in a way that respects and welcomes their unique experiences? If I know you celebrate Christmas, then by all means, it’s Merry Christmas! But if I don’t know you or I’m aware you have different cultural traditions, I’m either going to acknowledge your celebration or go with Happy Holidays.
We celebrate Christmas at our house but more as a folk festival than anything else. We do not subscribe to religion but sometimes adopt features of the parts we like! And then we make new traditions.
Our Christmas Eve tradition for many years is Dale’s homemade pizza and a movie, preferably a comedy. I’m struggling to find a good one for this evening, so if anybody has ideas that can be streamed from Netflix or Amazon, please share!
Christmas morning we have coffee and open a few presents. We abandoned big loot years ago. Now it’s just one or two things for each other and what the sisters send. And something for the cat! My sister-in-law sent a wrapped gift for Riley, and he knows it’s his. He has been pawing and clawing and sniffing around since it arrived. Catnip, perhaps?
Then we eat leftover pizza and enjoy a cold beer. While the pizza/beer buzz wears off, we putz around and start Christmas dinner, which we typically eat around 5:30 or 6 p.m. We keep it simple. Roast beef, broccoli and mashed potatoes. Dessert varies. This year we are eating homemade plum pudding from last year’s Christmas dinner. It has been wrapped well in the fridge. I tasted it, and it’s still delicious. I’ll make new hard sauce to go with.
As a treat to myself, later this afternoon I will try out my new homemade cannabis bath salts. All my achy breaky parts are screaming this time of year, so I’m hoping for some soothing relief. It was so easy to make using Epsom salt, Himalayan pink salt, baking soda and cannabis-infused coconut oil. I can’t wait to give you a full report on the outcome.
