In search of control

Today is our actual anniversary, which is double the pleasure because it’s also the winter solstice. I struggle with the winter blues, and gaining a bit more daylight every day makes me happy. I’m trying to be chill, but there is serious shit going down out there. When the going gets weird, I tend to seek order and control by tidying up and possibly creating a spreadsheet or two.

Did bathrooms and floors yesterday. Next stop was tidying up my digital house. As one reader suggested, I called to cancel my New York Times subscription. I’ve been paying $15 a month, and they offered to reduce it to $4 a month for 52 weeks. I said no. By this time, I had a new mindset and scrapped the whole thing.

As another reader suggested, I found it for free anyway. You need a New York Times account, but you don’t subscribe to anything. Then you go here to get this little code and – magic – free NY Times for 72 hours. There is no limit on how many times you can do it.

I thought canceling my subscription would help me back away from the news, but that’s a lost cause. Readers have different opinions about what’s going on in the White House, so I won’t list my complaints, except to say the stock market is making me crazy. Most retirees can relate to that.

Yes, it will come back, but it’s hard to see money disappear in the blink of an eye. My investment strategy is conservative, so I believe everything will be OK, but I still hate the drama.

If it gets really bad, I wonder about going back to work. The idea does not appeal to me. I love retirement, I love playing golf, taking long walks, hunkering down with a good book, cooking. There really is enough money in our retirement account to ride this out, but I tend to be a worrier. 

It occurred to me if I had to take a job, I wouldn’t pass a drug test! More and more companies no longer test for cannabis, so that’s good. I might have a shot. Certainly not in my former industry, which was defense. For me, cannabis is medicine, and now that I’ve experienced the benefits, it would be hard to give it up. I’ll just worry about it instead.

Writing about my worries helps me put them into perspective. I imagine myself three years from now wondering why I wasted all that time fretting when everything turned out OK in the end. I was like this with cancer, too. I spent years worrying about it returning but then started imagining a future where I said, “If I’d known I was going to live this long, I wouldn’t have spent so much time worrying about dying.”

I have to get there with retirement. Trust that we planned well. There will be ups and downs, spendy years and frugal years, but we’re fine. In the end, we’d like to die broke, but after a lifetime of saving, the most likely scenario is not spending it while we can enjoy it.

In the meantime, I’m hunkering down in the kitchen and on the couch – a bit of cooking and reading to lift my spirits.

I’m probably going to make Dal Makhani tonight. This recipe from Urvashi Pitre is the best, although I add a couple of Serrano peppers for heat. I also want to experiment with some sort of cannabis bath product. I’ll be perusing The Cannabis Spa at Home for ideas.

As for reading, I just finished The Woman in the Window. I would call it a psychological thriller. Hard to put down. I’m enjoying the Molly Murphy historical fiction series by Rhys Bowen. A young Irish woman lands in turn-of-the-century New York City and blusters her way into solving crimes. First in the series is Murphy’s Law.

I’ve started a spreadsheet with books I want to read and list series in order. I have a column for author, character, title, library/buy and status. I have access to two library systems, so I check to see which one, if any, has it and if not, I list it as a buy.

Of course, much of what we experience in life and retirement is out of our control, but every little bit helps. If it gets any worse, I’ll probably have to clean the refrigerator. Maybe create an inventory?

Celebrating our 40th

This week is our 40th wedding anniversary, and while we aren’t particularly sentimental, we wanted to do something special to commemorate the occasion. We booked an overnight trip to Bodega Bay, a beautiful seaside town we can drive to in about 2.5 hours. 

One of the many perks of retirement is schedule flexibility and going places during the week when prices are usually lower. I checked for every night in every hotel using every travel site on the Internet until I got a good deal. Tuesday night was the least expensive, and even then, it was outrageous. Bodega Bay is not cheap. We like the area because it’s beautiful, close to Sonoma and we love the oysters.

We took the scenic route and stopped for lunch at a beautiful cove where the restaurant specializes in all things seafood. We had clam chowder and split a dozen oysters on the half-shell. Our table overlooked the water. We splurged and each had a Blood Mary. The view was amazing, so we said what the hell and ordered another.

Four Bloodies, soup and oysters added up to one of the most expensive lunches I have ever enjoyed. But Dale had cashed our annual check from USAA, so it was practically free. Then we headed north to our hotel. We were a little early, it was chilly and raining, so we were pleased our room was ready. Perhaps emboldened by the Bloodies, I said, this is our 40th anniversary, I don’t suppose there are any upgrades available?

I’m not normally one to ask for stuff, but I figured you don’t get it if you don’t ask. She went in the back and emerged smiling, confirming a complimentary upgrade to an ocean view room with a fireplace and a luxurious over-sized tub. Bingo!

The room was gorgeous with a spectacular if foggy view. I believe I said in my outside voice I certainly planned to take a bath, but I didn’t seize the faucet in time. Dale announced, I’m taking a bath! Oh, how nice for you. I suppose that will use up all the hot water, but go ahead. Enjoy.

Well, if he gets the tub, I thought, I’m going to relax in the sumptuous robe I saw hanging in the closet. I was prancing around singing “Mama’s got a brand-new robe” and decided to pass on the bath, as it just sucks the life out of me anyway. I needed my strength for the next round of oysters. I crawled into bed wearing my new robe and started to read.

Dale’s in the tub, and I could hear all these bubbles, like a whale surfacing? I honestly didn’t know what to think. He was in there a long time. I thought this is it, after 40 years, I discover his dark secret.

Shamu emerged from the bathroom with no curious afterglow, so I assumed there are manly bathtub things I don’t understand. We hung around until it was time to go for dinner. This time I had scoped out a place with fried oysters on the menu. Fabulous.

On the way back to the hotel, I asked about the noises from the tub. He’s like, what do you mean? I explained the bubbly whale-like sounds I heard, and he said, “Oh, that. I may have farted.”

Oh! Farts! Not some kinkster bathtub sex ritual. What a relief. 

Budgeting for creature comforts


Unlike Individual 1, I love the failing New York Times and have a digital subscription to the tune of $15 a month. If I had to be super-frugal, I probably wouldn’t subscribe, but my retirement goal was more about being moderately frugal. So far, so good.

Aside from all the news and opinion I can possibly digest, I love the daily mini-crossword and try to do it in under five minutes before I even get out of bed. It’s going to be a great day when I do it in under a minute.

By the way, I know this is not normal. 

NYT Cooking, which is excellent, is another favorite section of the paper. It used to be included with the basic subscription. I could save recipes to my recipe box, but suddenly most of them are grayed out. That’s because there’s now a fee, and I must upgrade my subscription for full access.

This bugs me. I try to be smart about how I spend money in retirement, and I’m reluctant to shell out more for something that used to be free. But they do provide a service I enjoy very much, and I suppose it’s not unreasonable to pay for it.

I finally looked it up. It’s another $5 a month. Food and cooking is a big part of our lives, even more so in retirement. I like to cook, and I like to read about food almost as much as I like to eat it. We don’t go out to restaurants often, so think of all the money we are saving! And who doesn’t need a little culinary inspiration? 

Obviously, I’m trying to talk myself into it. But $5 is $5.  I know there are retirees who can’t or won’t have cable or Netflix because of the expense, and certainly I would cut back if I had to, but I’m hoping that will not happen until they pull the remote out of my cold dead hands. 

When you are planning for retirement, you tend to think about the big expenses such as healthcare, transportation, etc. But little things add up, and you do have to be prepared. I had cable before I retired, and I had a digital subscription to the New York Times before I retired. My preference was keep them in my life once the paychecks stopped. 

Sure, I read all the retirement advice about maintaining your standard of living … multiply your current salary by some astronomical number and that’s what you’ll need to live on. We were actually living on a good bit less than we made, hence the retirement savings, so it was a gross exaggeration to assume we’d need the same income in our later years. 

But the basics of our pre-retirement lifestyle have not changed. Decent cars, good quality sheets, great food, wine and beer, cable, Netflix and the New York Times. I’ll pass on the exotic travel, but when we had enough in savings to keep the creature comforts, I knew retirement could work.

So, $5 for NYT Cooking? Maybe. Probably. 

Simple retirement style

Today was the holiday luncheon for my golf league. I wasn’t going to attend, but I’m trying to socialize more and make friends. The luncheon was not as much fun as actually playing golf, but I had a good time. The biggest deal was seeing everyone all dolled up.

No one recognized me, because I stuff my hair under a hat when I play golf. Nobody knew I had all that gray, and they had never seen it down. This was maybe the second time this year I blow dried my hair. I thought it came out great, but I don’t plan to start that business up on a regular basis. 

Makeup is not my thing … which is great for retirement. Cheaper, faster. Men look good without makeup, right? I’ve never understood the need to paint our faces. That said, for special occasions, I will put on a bit of tinted moisturizer and some blush. I also fill in my eyebrows with a pencil and brush. I’m sure mascara would look fabulous, but I hate it.

Some people say gray hair without makeup washes you out. Color me washed out.

I’m not into Christmas, so it would be unlike me to wear a Santa sweater or snowman earrings. There was a lot of that going on, and everyone looked happy, but I stuck with my basic black and blue. The jacket and tee are leftovers from work. I bought the jeans at Kohl’s earlier this year.

The boots are kind of a funny story. I’ve had them since Texas and expect to have them forever. They are nice quality leather. I noticed when we went wine tasting at the vineyards, most of the women wore jeans tucked into boots. I started copying, and I’ve had tons of compliments. I swear, one woman wanted to lick them. Sometimes it is nice to fit in.

As I was exploring my closet, trying to figure out what to wear, I tried on several outfits from work. They felt alien. I didn’t want to purge my closet during the first year of retirement. Now that I’m in year two, I’ll probably donate some and re-purpose the rest. 

There may not be much left by the time I’m done, but then I don’t need a whole lot. Athletic clothes for summer, athletic clothes for winter and a few outfits with jeans. Jammies!

Well, I do love the high-tech stretchy fabrics and lust after a lot of the clothes at Athleta (seriously, that could be my whole wardrobe). However, until they decide to appoint me brand ambassador and air drop me gift baskets of clothes, I only shop there for items I can’t find anywhere else.

So, yes, you likely will spend less money on clothes after you retire. I prepared several years in advance by erring on the casual side of business casual. For colors, I stuck with neutrals that could easily be mixed and matched.

Before I bought anything, I’d ask myself, would I wear this in retirement? I wanted clothes that transcended the workplace. I also avoided dry clean-only clothes to save money while I was still working, knowing it would come in handy down the road.

Everybody is different, and I say wear what you want. But even if you are a super fashionista, you can dress yourself in retirement on way less than it took to keep you stylish at work. 

Calming down a bit

I wrote a post in October about the struggle to let go of the idea my life is only as good as my achievements. Here it is December, hardly long enough to make a batch of kimchi, but with every day that passes, I feel less tethered to success. I like it.

After retiring last year, I was happy to be done with my career but still felt driven to do something exceptional, something amazing to prove I’ve still got it. I had a million thoughts going in a million different directions. It’s not enough to retire and simply enjoy our joblessness. We must reinvent ourselves! Organize our frugal lives! See the world! Change the world!

But the weight of these expectations during my first year of retirement left me anxious and exhausted. Couldn’t I just calm down, think before I leap and accept I had a great career and my reward for hanging in there is a great life? What if I just focused on what feels good and see what happens?

A weight was lifted once it occurred to me I did not have to reinvent myself. I’m surprised by how quickly the idea took hold. Maybe I just had to say it in my outside voice.

The thing is, I’m still doing freelance work, but the idea of a real job is not the slightest bit appealing. Never say never, but I can’t imagine going back to all that – although I certainly don’t plan to wither away doing nothing.

In addition to my recreational pursuits, I’ll continue to use my skills and talents and make a little money, but I’m not feeling motivated to do something exceptional. It’s not about standard definitions of achievement or success. It’s more about intellectual curiosity and social interaction. And a little cash doesn’t hurt, either.    

As I worked through this drama in my head, I told Dale I would get a job, but I can’t work Tuesdays or Wednesdays, because that’s when I play golf. And I can’t work Mondays in the summer, because that’s when I play golf in the mountains. Maybe Mondays in the winter but not if I take up cross-country skiing. Reading, cooking, long walks, sometimes more golf – that’s what Thursdays and Fridays are for.

As you can see, I’m kind of busy.

Please say this isn’t a passing fancy. Retirement was an opportunity to jump the track, but I didn’t do a very good job of clearing a path for the freewheeling journey of my dreams. I just jumped to a new track. My brain was saying, “I will continue to succeed at something, damn it!”

Until proven otherwise, it appears I’m experiencing the joy of being trackless. But I’m curious about other retirees. Are you ambitious? What motivates you? Have your goals and ambitions evolved over the course of your retirement?

It’s still about the hair



This week marked one year of blogging at Retirement Confidential. During that year, I wrote 111 posts and published twice a week on average. I feel good about my progress, although I saw a decline in readership when I deactivated my Facebook account.

I miss the traffic Facebook generated, but I don’t miss Facebook, especially as information about the company’s business model continues to unfold. My life is better without Facebook. I’ll continue to pursue other strategies for attracting readers.

Why are readers important? Well, as a writer, I write to be read and to connect with a community of like-minded people. That’s pretty much it. 

I’m writing because I’ve always been a writer, mostly for my career in communications, but now that I am retired, I have the opportunity to discover my unfiltered voice. Writing is cheaper than therapy, and the beauty of a blog is there are no gatekeepers. Nobody to tell me it’s not good enough to publish. Maybe it isn’t, but no one else gets to decide for me.

I took a peek at my all-time most popular post, and I was totally surprised.

It’s my hair.

So much for writing! I keep my longish gray hair simple and usually tie it up in a messy man bun using a silk scrunchie. My hair credentials are solid. From 2008-2013, I wrote a blog about gray hair and other important topics of the day. The blog was Rock the Silver. I pulled the plug on it when my career became particularly intense, and it took everything I had to stay focused on making it to the end.

As for other topics, people seem to like the funny stories about my 40-year marriage. Among the top five posts: A new opportunity to annoy your partner and Driving each other nuts in retirement.

Categories help readers decide if this topic is of interest to them. And the categories are:

  • Cannabis
  • Current Events
  • Food & Drink
  • Health & Wellness
  • Lifestyle
  • Personal Finance
  • Style & Fashion

All the categories are represented well in the statistics, so I believe I’ve set a good focus for our conversations. But I would like to do better. Which categories do you like? Which ones not so much?

Technically, I am challenged. I finally figured out how to resize the images, and then WordPress changed how to resize images. Aargh. There will undoubtedly be mistakes along the way, but I will always do my best to keep Retirement Confidential clean and readable.

Thank you for joining me in this grand adventure. I truly appreciate your time and interest! Any other feedback you’d like to share? Anything else you’d like to see?

Size matters

Other than food, we typically don’t do Christmas in a big way. Dale buys and decorates a tree. My tradition is to sit around and watch the action while drinking single malt scotch. The ornaments are a mishmash of family treasures, homemade gifts, impulse buys and beautifully crafted wood ornaments we collected in six years of living in Germany.

To him, size matters. Dale wants the biggest tree this stinking desert has ever seen. Although in recent years, he has re-calibrated his expectations. We downsized when we moved to California, so sadly, his Rockefeller Center days are over. Yes, we live in an expensive state, but look what we save on trees!

In the end, the tree is beautiful, but if it were up to me, I’d skip the whole thing. One year we were burned out and just put a few presents under the coffee table. I loved it.

Other than the tree, we don’t decorate for the holidays. We slap a nutcracker on the mantel and call it Christmas. Last year, our first year in this home, the neighborhood was festooned with shiny objects, so we may go crazy and add some outdoor lights.

Although I don’t help with decorating, I do pack the ornaments back in their boxes after the holidays, so there is work involved. I used to hate that part, but now I like examining the little jewels as I eagerly tuck them into slumber. Oh, how cute! You’re dead to me.

In spite of all his fuss, Dale is a huge procrastinator. For his sisters in Maine, there are still unwrapped presents sitting on the dining room table. I’ve done all I can to prod him along, but it’s out of my hands. And the tree – his pride and joy – has not been purchased yet. He believes it’s wrong to buy before December (um, it’s December) and usually doesn’t get around to decorating it until the week before.

I try to just go with the flow, although if I were a Christmas person, you can be sure this show would be timely and organized. Sometimes it’s hard to believe he spent his career in the Army. However, his easy-going attitude is an antidote for my somewhat obsessive nature.

Gifts aren’t a big deal either. Maybe a few stocking stuffers, a CD, a book, a pair of socks. For California cold, Dale likes lightweight fleece, but he’s hard to fit, and size does matter. He’s 5’6”, and most men’s clothing is way too long for him.

It’s a shame, because he looks really good, if I must say so myself, but clothes seldom fit him properly. I spent some time on the Internet yesterday in search of tops more suitable for his frame. I was trying to keep it a surprise, but I finally caved and decided I would measure Dale’s chest.

He was at his computer, and I said, hey, can you please do me a favor and stand up?

Dale was like, sure. He started to get up, and he could see the tape measure in my hand.

I said, “I’m just going to measure your penis.”

The look on his face was priceless. My whole body still hurts from laughing so hard. It hurts now. He really almost lost it. I said, oh, just kidding. I need to measure your chest.

Several hours later, I was still laughing, snorting actually, and he gave me the high-five. Humor always wins. Our 40th anniversary is this month, so I guess we’re doing something right.

Indica dreams

Most of us need more sleep for optimum health. Since I retired, no more getting up at 4 a.m. No more 2 a.m. panic attacks about a project deadline. Even with a more relaxed lifestyle, however, sometimes we need a little help getting to sleep and staying asleep. I use cannabis.

If you haven’t used cannabis before or haven’t used it in a long time, I’ll share some basics I’ve learned from personal experience and from my studies at Oaksterdam University, where I completed the classic seminar in cannabis education. I’ve previously written about my experiences with Kiva edibles, Kikoko tea and Granddaddy Purple concentrate.

For newbies, there are two basic types of cannabis. Look for Indica-dominant strains if you want to help your body relax to treat pain or insomnia. Sativa-dominant products are more cerebral and induce an uplifting high. For long walks and feeling happy, I enjoy a 50/50 hybrid called Sour Diesel Lemon Kush, which I buy as buds and vape with my little dry herb PAX 2 vaporizer.

Another way to evaluate the potential effects of cannabis is by checking the THC-to-CBD ratio. THC and CBD are both cannabinoids in the cannabis plant, but CBD doesn’t get you high. CBD-only products are all the rage, although I have yet to try any. I’d love to hear about your experiences using CBD!

Products with both THC and CBD have what is called an entourage effect – which takes advantage of the whole plant and usually means better results. Strains high in CBD are great for pain and anxiety. I used CBD Shark (1:1 ratio of THC-to-CBD) for my homemade tincture and Harlequin (5:2 ratio of THC-to-CBD) for my homemade topical balm.

Finally, you need to give some thought as to how you consume the cannabis. It takes longer for the effects to kick in if you eat or drink it, but the effects last longer, which is great for sleep. If you’re in pain, you probably want something with immediate effects. Nothing like a plain old-fashioned joint to do the job. That’s what I used when I had cancer and was suffering side effects of chemotherapy.

As for sleep, my all-time favorite medication is Kikoko Tranquili-Tea … no surprises and wonderful, long-lasting sleep. It’s simply a fabulous product, ideal for people new to cannabis. However, it’s expensive and not easy to find.

Granddaddy Purple has been my go-to choice for sleep. GDP, as it’s known, is Indica-dominant at 70 percent, and the THC level is about 80 percent. The THC level is high because it’s a concentrated oil. The oil is packaged in a glass cartridge, which you then screw onto a vape pen. It’s easy and you can keep it by the bed. Start low and go slow … no more than two short inhalations the first time. Wait until the next night to add another inhalation. I know when I’ve overdone it, because I have crazy-ass dreams.

I just tried a different concentrate called Platinum Bubba Kush. It’s Indica-dominant at about 80 percent, and the THC level is a bit higher than GDP at about 87 percent. I went to bed, read for a while and then took two short inhalations from the vape pen. I soon fell asleep, and sometime during the night I got up to pee, as per usual, but I went right back to sleep. Next thing I knew it was 7 a.m.

A .5ml cartridge was about $30 at my local cannabis dispensary and for me, it lasts weeks, even more than a month. But I’m a lightweight and only use a bit – results vary from person-to-person. I just read about sublingual tinctures specially formulated for sleep. That sounds promising to me and am in pursuit of said item so I can share a full report.

Happy sleeping!

No more cycling for me

I donated my bicycle today, and while I’m happy some lucky person will get a fantastic bargain, I have mixed emotions about age, risk and loss.

Actually, I was never big into cycling. But I had a run at it when we lived in Texas, as our house was just off a paved, car-free bicycle trail. I bought a beautiful road bike, akin to an entry-level racing bike. Smooth as butter after a little breaking in period.

About the breaking in. The bicycle came with clip-in pedals. I bought special shoes that clip in and out, and the shop clerk showed me how to use them. On the very first day I took the bike home, I went for a ride and practiced clipping in and out while I rode merrily down the street. Easy!

When I arrived at a small park, it was time to practice getting off the bike. I unclipped on one side and completely forgot about the other side, toppling over and falling hard on my wrist.

I managed to get home with my wrist propped up and my feet on the pedals (but not clipped in). My husband took me to an urgent care clinic. They did x-rays and said I had low bone density, which I already knew. Nothing was broken. The wrist hurt like hell for a week and turned me into a raging maniac. At the urging of a coworker, I went back to my regular doctor, and this time they confirmed the wrist was indeed broken. The cast was like magic balm.

After my wrist healed, I replaced the pedals with the regular kind and continued to ride moderate distances … nothing too long … mainly because even with padded shorts and an ergonomic seat, riding a bike can be a real pain in the crotch.

All that to say it was fun, but I was not all in. When we first moved to California, I rode a couple of times on a car-free trail but was too busy with work to do much more than that. Plus, my default exercises are golf and walking, both of which are better for bone density anyway.

About a year ago, I retired. Why, now I had time to do anything! I kept thinking about going out for a ride and talking about going out for a ride, but the bike sat in the garage untouched.

I’ve gone back and forth but finally decided to part with the bike. While it’s true I enjoy other activities more, the real reason is I’m afraid of falling. I got away with a broken wrist last time, but next time I may not be so lucky. My long-term plan to stay healthy and active depends on remaining fracture-free.

On one hand, I’m happy to have made the decision. One less bulky item in the garage. One less thing to distract me from my true interests. But another part of me feels sad to eliminate an activity that is safe and routine for many. Most people don’t fall. But then again, most of us don’t bounce like we used to.

Am I being too careful? Old before I’m old?

Maybe, but the fear of falling is already etched in my brain, and I’ve read thinking you’ll fall is a sure recipe for falling. I concluded riding a bicycle is just not worth the risk. It seems like such a small loss, given the other indignities of aging, but I hate being reminded my body has limits.

I can only imagine what it will feel like when it’s time to turn in the car keys.

Playing in the rain

When I was 14, my friend, Susie, invited a few of us for a sleepover on Friday night. Her backyard was an avocado grove that sloped to a drainage ditch we called the La Branca. It had rained heavily that evening, so the next day we took Styrofoam boogie boards and rode them down into the ditch, where we happily paddled downstream.

Of course, it was dangerous. I can hardly believe I did it, and now I envision being sucked into the sewer or wherever that little ditch goes. My mother was horrified. I remember her telling my dad, “Donna played in a ditch Saturday morning.”

In recent years, I’ve been pretty tame. I avoid bad weather and hunker down inside. Until today.

We have a regular Tuesday golf group and most canceled because of anticipated rain. I was the first one to arrive at the golf course, and it was deserted. I approached the clerk and said I was going to brave it and see if I could play 18, but I could always get a rain check, right? He said they don’t do rain checks. I did not get mean or swear, but I did say that was a ridiculous racket.

He got nice after that and said we could go whenever the rest of the group arrived. No need to wait for our tee times. This was about 9:30 a.m., and my tee time was 10:04. It was sprinkling off and on, but the big rain was expected around 12:30 p.m. I putted a little bit and checked my emails. Two more had canceled. I thought, I could wait around another 30 minutes and be the only one here. I’m going for it.

I asked the guy in the shop if I could go out alone, and he said sure, he’d tell anyone in my group who showed up I got an early start to try and beat the rain. Rain, you can’t stop me! I was dressed in multiple layers with a rain jacket over it all. And a good hat.

Not that golf is dangerous in the rain unless there’s lightening, but it’s kind of a mess. I’ve been sort of a fair weather golfer lately, but I was ready to begin the adventure. I usually walk, and I considered taking a cart, but I figured wet is wet. A cart won’t save me, and my pull cart has an umbrella.

It was so much fun. I had the course to myself, and I felt like a kid again. It did get pretty wet out there, but I managed to walk 18 holes in three hours … before the big deluge. As I walked up to the golf shop, I saw the rest of the group. Just three brave souls. They quit at the turn, where they were happy to see the club house, and we decided gather inside for a bite to eat.

And that was my only mistake. Sitting there for an hour in wet clothes gave me a chill. On the way home, I put the car heater on high and heated up my seat, too. I really didn’t warm up until I got home and took off those wet clothes. My golf junk is soaked and drying out in the garage.

But it was fun! If I weren’t retired, I might have felt ripped off, but I have plenty of time, and I like to stay active. That said, as I’ve gotten older, I’m pickier about enjoying the outdoors in less than ideal conditions.

I’ve come to think whatever your sport, whatever your weather, if you’re properly dressed, a little nastiness won’t hurt you. What do you think? Ride it out inside or go for it? For me, it was just plain fun, and in the future, I will be more open to getting outside when it’s wet.

But super cold weather? Let’s sit by the fire and talk about that for awhile.