A tale of two pretzels

Dale and I both like pretzels, although he gets extra salty, and I like extra dark. My all-time favorites were little multigrain nuggets with sesame seeds from Trader Joe’s, but they discontinued them, and nothing has been the same since. I’ll take my almost-burnt pretzels as a runner-up.

We usually keep them in stock, but somehow both kinds mysteriously disappeared from the drawer where we keep them. I was away Monday night for a golf outing, and when I returned Tuesday, I noticed a bright new bag of extra salty pretzels but none of the extra dark.

Here we go again.

I said, “I noticed you replenished your pretzel supply. Why didn’t you get me any? You know I like the extra dark.”

He went into this harangue about how he doesn’t pretend to keep track of what I eat from day to day, and I’m always changing, and how can he be expected to know whether I want them or not? I said I’ve been eating them for six months and have never complained, so one would assume I still enjoy them and might appreciate a bag if you are already at the store anyway … buying some for yourself.

In the end, I caved. I agreed he can’t be responsible for knowing what I want. He is not to buy pretzels for me unless I specifically request them. He said perfect, that’s the way we will proceed. For the record, it was not a nasty conversation. We’re both a wee bit argumentative, but we come by it naturally.

Part of the problem is Dale was an award-winning debater in high school, and I was quite successful as a persuasive speaker in both high school and college. We met in the military, we were both leaders in our careers and we both like being in charge. However, our energy for the duel has waned with age and retirement, and we have gotten better about quitting before one of us gets a sword through the chest.

The next day, that would be today, he says he’s going to the store for pickles and will buy me pretzels while he’s there. I said, did I ask for them? I thought we had an agreement, or was it a dream? I mean, we went through all that only so you can ignore the new policy? He said no, you didn’t ask for them, but I’ll get you pretzels anyway. I said, no, that’s not what we agreed to. He said OK, no pretzels.

A few minutes later I heard his keys jingle and asked, “Are you going to the store now?” He said yes.

“Will you please get me some of the extra dark pretzels?”

I could hear him laughing all the way down the stairs, and it didn’t stop until the front door closed behind him.

Vacationing without your meds

We’re back after a week in Maine visiting family. It was a good visit, and I’m glad we went, but I’m thrilled to be home. Our cat, Riley, had lots to say upon our arrival. Dale calls it the Kittysburg Address.

This might be the terpenes talking, but I’ve started to think of cannabis as medicine, and it was rough traveling without my meds. Possessing cannabis in any form within U.S. airports or on commercial aircraft falls under federal jurisdiction. That means it’s illegal to pack it in carry-on or checked bags.

I don’t like the feds messing with my meds! If there’s criminal intent here, it’s on the part of the federal government for failing to acknowledge the powerful therapeutic value of cannabis. No laws against traveling with opioids, right?

Presumably, lots of people risk traveling with cannabis, but that’s not how I roll. Why, yes, I watch Orange is the New Black, and that’s as close as I want to get to women’s prison. Dale and I had a lengthy discussion about what dogs can smell. Can they detect an unopened cannabis oil cartridge? My sister-in-law said dogs are focused on explosives and don’t bother with cannabis anymore. I do not want to be the one to test her theory.

Although I do vape cannabis recreationally from time to time or take a couple of hits off the occasional joint, I principally use three types of cannabis products to treat different conditions:

  • Wellness – One daily dropperful of homemade alcohol-based cannabis tincture stirred into a small glass of juice reduces anxiety, lifts my mood and just makes me feel better overall.
  • Sleep – I buy cartridges of Granddaddy Purple concentrate. The cartridge screws onto a vape pen, and a couple of hits off the vape pen helps me sleep through the night. I also like Kiva chocolate-covered blueberries and Kikoko tea. I gifted Tranquili-Tea to my neighbor, who has serious medical issues but is wary of cannabis, and she LOVES it.
  • Pain – In addition to post-mastectomy pain, I have a lot of age-related creaky body parts. I apply homemade cannabis balm twice a day. A week without it, and my mastectomy scars started burning and sciatica returned.

I am careful to microdose and do not get high from the tincture or the concentrate. Topical balms have no psychotropic effect. If they did, I would be super sloppy stoned, because I use balm liberally on my mastectomy scars, knees, elbows and spine.

Traveling without these products was a bummer. I missed my tincture the most. I think of it as a vitamin but better. A little tincture makes me feel like a happier, better version of myself. I was explaining the concept of microdosing to someone, and I said you want just enough so you begin to feel the crack of a smile on your face.

For older adults who are interested in cannabis as medicine, I highly recommend starting with tincture. Some tincture is made with glycerin, and you can put a few drops under your tongue. I made mine with alcohol, because the shelf life is basically forever, but it burns when applied sublingually. That’s why I add it to juice.

I gave serious thought to putting a small bottle of tincture in my checked bag but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. As I unpacked when we got home, I found a love letter from TSA stating they searched my bag. Maybe they knew I thought about it! Anyway, I don’t know if it’s a manual search or if they use dogs or if they even care whether you have cannabis, but I was glad I erred on the side of caution.

Reluctantly traveling in retirement

I’ve been off the grid for the past week or so visiting family, and I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit I’ve missed my retirement routine. Travel feels more like work. Plus, visiting family typically requires my auxiliary power, which can be exhausting.

Dale and I saw a good bit of the world when we were younger, so we don’t have a travel Jones like many retirees. We’re pretty much homebodies.

Part of being a homebody is the pleasure of sleeping in your own bed and eating your own food, and that’s probably what I’ve missed the most. I also like setting my own agenda. When I’m on the road, I find it’s easy to get sucked into doing stuff I don’t really want to do.

I suppose there’s an upside to getting outside your comfort zone, but in my first year of retirement, I’ve been sort of selfish and all about my personal comfort. Maybe playing well with others will come later.

The other thing about travel is watching money fly out the window. Airfare and meals out add up. We have a slush fund so we can enjoy a trip without worrying about money, but I still hate spending it. We had a horrible meal at the airport, and I won’t even reveal how much it cost. On the other hand, we’ve had a couple of nice meals out, so it’s not all bad. Still, I’m cheap.

All in all, it has been a good trip, but I’m ready to go home. I miss the kitty, although the cat sitter texted a picture of them practically smooching, so I’m not sure he misses us.

I admire the retirement road warriors, but that is not the life for me. Which one are you? Homebody, road warrior or something in between?

Driving each other nuts in retirement

Shortly after I retired last October, my husband and I began to drive each other nuts. Readers enjoyed my funny posts about fighting over fish sauce and oatmeal and trying to kill him with bacon. Oh, and Fitbit couples therapy, when I earned the Zip It badge for keeping my mouth shut. The stories were fun to write and made Dale laugh as well.

I haven’t written about our relationship lately – mostly because it has been great! For sure, we are soul mates, but we have our differences, and it seems we found our retirement balance. We relish the warm and wonderful moments just hanging out enjoying each other and this chilled life we both love. It’s like we’ve rediscovered our younger, sillier selves. The people we were before life knocked us around.

I’m sure I will be writing about more marital mayhem, but while the going is good, I thought I’d share some perspectives that might help you avoid the same mistakes.

Moving

In retrospect, I think moving right after I retired compounded the issues. The closest we ever came to breaking up during our 40-year marriage was during one of our 20-something moves. Moving is stressful all by itself, and when you add that to the unknowns and fears of being newly retired, crankiness kicks in.

We would still move, as we were able to reduce our living expenses considerably, but I’d recommend either waiting a few months until retirement feels more comfortable or talking through these unique challenges in advance.

Habits & Behaviors

When you’re both working, you miss a lot of the little things people do when they are by themselves. Or you ignore them because you have more important things to worry about. Without the distraction of a job, you can put all your focus into identifying and correcting your partner’s flaws! Don’t. Just don’t.

You are with this person for a reason, so either accept them as they are or have a serious discussion on what needs to change. Dale is the silent type, while I like to talk things through until I am speechless and comatose on the couch. But we both agreed these picky fights had to end. To get there, he started to talk more, and I started to listen better, and now if we start to go down that path, one of us will say, no, we don’t do that anymore. It’s not worth arguing about. And we let it go!

We were driving to the Smart & Final the other day, a store that is in an area of town we don’t go to much. He was about to make a left turn into the parking lot, and I said, oh, isn’t this where we had the big fight about how to make left turns?

Dale said, yes, it is. And we both laughed.

Togetherness

We love to be with each other, but we also like our alone time. And suddenly, neither one of us had it. I started playing more golf. He doesn’t play, so that’s my thing. People always ask me what he does with his time, and usually I say, oh, I don’t know.

Dale has the gift of being pretty happy with not much going on. He reads, plays computer games and works around the house or yard, but his big hobby is dinner! Shopping for it, preparing for it, cooking it. I like to cook as well, and I thought, oh, great, we’ll be doing this together! But it took me awhile to realize the joy of cooking is mostly a solitary experience for him. Now I let him run the kitchen, and if I have the urge, I let him know I want to do dinner on a certain day.

I attribute our success to deep and open communications, but I asked Dale what he thought the biggest difference was and he said you stopped criticizing my driving. I probably could have skipped the soul-searching all together.

So, there you have it. To keep your retirement relationship strong, sometimes you have to talk, and sometimes you have to Zip It!

The technical challenges of blogging

Yesterday I sent a note to my subscribers that I would be deactivating this blog. I’ve had technical issues that just got the best of me, and I said screw it. Then I played a horrible nine holes of golf and moped all evening about what a loser I am.

We were out in the backyard for what is supposed to be happy hour, but obviously I didn’t get the memo. I was in a deep funk. Dale said sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself. He said you played bad golf because you took your baggage to the course. You don’t really want to quit blogging.

Yes to all of the above. You’d think at 62 I would have this all figured out, but I don’t. Whatever this is, whatever my issues, I’ve always blamed it on growing up in a family crippled by emotional deprivation, but I think I’m close to the expiration date on that excuse.

When I reflect with a clear mind, I realize I’m still a work in progress, and I’ve already learned a lot about myself in less than a year of retirement. I continue to evolve, but dag, technology can bite.

While I’m savvy with desktop applications, web design and WordPress drive me nuts. My hosting company doesn’t help with WordPress issues, and I found out I was being charged for WordPress help I didn’t know I had. When I asked where I could see that account on my dashboard, they said, oh, you have to call. I said where are the invoices? They said, oh, we’ll send them to you now.

I said, and I quote: “Motherfuckers.”

The guy said, “What?”

I said I just used a very bad word in my outside voice. Please just send me the invoices and cancel the subscription.

So now I’m on my own again. I apologize if you have problems commenting — I will continue to work through these challenges because I am not a quitter, damn it.

Let the fiesta begin!

Postscript: I have been trying to turn off comment moderation, so you don’t have to wait to see your comment. I’ve not been able to get that to work — I still have to approve them — but I tested it today and saw the reader does not get a message that says the comment is awaiting moderation. So you think your comment didn’t take — but it did. I’m on it!!

Do you care about retirement style?

Although I follow several fashion bloggers and love their flare, I am way too boring to be successful in that genre. You’d pretty much see the same outfits over and over again. While I care about appearance, I usually keep it simple. Still, I don’t think you have to be a fashionista to dress well in your retirement.

Retirement is all about enjoying life on your terms. No need to impress anyone. No need to fit in. Hopefully, you’ve planned it so you can live the way you want and dress the way you want. This retiree prefers a more minimalist style. I’m outdoorsy and fit, and oh, yeah, I don’t have breasts anymore, but I like comfortable clothes that skim my body and allow freedom of movement. Adult play clothes.

In some ways, being flat opened my sensibilities to a more androgynous style. I was never girly anyway and was never into makeup or painted nails, although I have been known to wear the occasional skirt or dress. My favorite celebrity inspiration? The late Anthony Bourdain and the thriving Jeff Goldblum!

Call me cray cray, but I think a slim pair of shorts and a white t-shirt with white Birkenstocks is stylish. I went to the DMV today, where I saw exactly how I don’t want to dress. If you need inspiration for how to accessorize with bra straps, that might be your best place to look.

Well, that was snarky. Good for them, they are doing exactly what I am doing, which is dressing how we please. This outfit is typical of what I like, but I’ve been thinking I might want to check out some thrift shops to see if there are some simple but cool pieces to add to my repertoire. Getting dressed is kind of fun when you don’t have to worry if it’s appropriate for the workplace!

How about you? Are you happy with your retirement style or do you even care? And believe me, I get that not caring is a viable option!

New glasses!

My glasses broke several weeks ago, so I got my eyes examined and went shopping. I briefly entertained the idea of getting funky frames now that I’m retired and don’t have to fit in, but I’m kind of minimalist and like to keep things simple. As my mother used to say, you can’t go wrong with black.

I didn’t like any of the frames in the big eyewear stores, and I didn’t like any of the frames in the optometrist-owned enterprises, either. I searched on the Internet and found a place that looked promising in an artsy urban area near Sacramento, about 30 miles from my home. If you live in the area, I highly recommend That Guy Eyewear. The owner’s name is Dennis, and he’s awesome.

Dennis buys closeouts and overruns. These frames are made by someone I’ve never heard of … Michel Atlan. The shop carries tons of really cool frames, and the prices are so good, I might even consider another pair — perhaps funky? I have progressives, and the total price for frames and lenses was $339.

Most of you don’t live in the area, but I encourage you to look for small, independent shops. The service was great, and I consider these a bargain. I spent way more on glasses when I had cash flow.

Back to the eye exam. I did not want my eyes dilated, so I paid out-of-pocket for the fancy scan. The scan revealed calcifications in both eyes. According to 23andMe, I am at higher risk for age-related macular degeneration, so that was an unpleasant surprise. The optometrist said they could be nothing, and they aren’t near the retina. But, of course, now we have to watch it.

I studied up on macular degeneration, which can impair your vision and potentially lead to blindness. I’m seriously hoping I don’t get it. Even though the genetic test showed I’m at higher risk, no one in the family had it, so that’s good. But after surviving both ovarian cancer and breast cancer, I know I need to be vigilant and hope for the best. I take it seriously and will certainly follow up, but I put it in the bucket of things I refuse to worry about.

For now, anyway. My advice? Pay for the scan.

Getting out of task mode

Everything I’m reading says good health and happy retirements are associated with strong social networks. I’ve worked hard to stay healthy and am loving retirement, but I am failing as a friend, and I’m going to fix it.

About the only thing I can say in my defense is that we moved more than 20 times during our careers. We never established roots, never got to know people in the community. We met our friends at work, and now they are scattered. We haven’t always done a good job of staying in touch. But that’s not really the issue.

The crux of the problem seems to be how I approach life. I’m task-oriented, which can be a good thing. Until it goes bad. Early in my career I was all about the job, all about the work and didn’t pay much attention to relationships. After my first cancer experience, I figured out work wasn’t everything in life, and I started paying attention to people. I discovered I liked people more than the work itself. An unintended consequence? My career blossomed.

Yet I still struggle with this mentality of mine. Retirement. Do I just retire? No, I start a blog about retirement. Even my interest in medical cannabis is task-oriented. Most people just go out a buy some pot. Not me. I read all the literature, bookmark all the websites, subscribe to all the newsletters and attend specialized training in the cannabis industry.

And then there’s golf, my hobby of choice. For many years, I just went out as a single and played with strangers. I was all about golf, so that was fine with me. But in retirement, I play more golf and the singles lifestyle wasn’t cutting it.

Dale and I always joke the only thing we’ve ever joined was a wine club (because we’re joiners). However, I bit the bullet and joined several women’s golf leagues. I’m having a great time, but it has been an adjustment playing with the same people week after week. Relationships matter.

I’m friendly and have been told I’m fun to play with, but when I’m done, I’m ready to go home. My task is over. The other women like to gather in the clubhouse and socialize. I forced myself to join the party last week and realized this is a perfect opportunity to strengthen my social network. Friends! Right there, practically built-in. It’s time to get out of task mode.

The idea is to relax and have fun with real people in real life who have similar interests. How hard can it be? Just to make sure I’m fully prepared, I did some research and invested in a social lubricant we call birdie juice. Bird Dog Peach Whiskey. Someone makes a birdie, everyone gets a shot.

Baby steps.

Every body is a beach body

It’s summer! My husband wanted new swim trunks. I said let’s go shopping. He said, nah, just pick something out for me. Size 36.

Are. You. Kidding.

Men apparently don’t know it takes months of trying on every swimsuit in the store before you can find something … anything that doesn’t make you cry. Most of us would rather have a root canal. In one of life’s mysterious twists, I only came to grips with my beach body after I was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a mastectomy.

I did not have reconstruction, which I wrote about here. Breasts would have made swimsuit shopping easier in some ways, but when you are as flat as a 10-year old boy, options are limited. It forced me to look at my body with new eyes. I realized we’re just a collection of body parts, and we want something to cover some of those parts so we can go out in public and enjoy the water.

Once you lose the idea you’re supposed to be sexy or thin or voluptuous or 22 years old … once you lose the idea you’re supposed to be anything but who shows up that day, it’s easier to find a style that makes you feel comfortable and confident.

I treated this challenge like a science experiment and tried on just about every swimsuit in the tri-county area. Everything, whether I thought it would look good or not. There were some real losers that made me wonder who is this made for? Who could this possibly fit? Yet, I have a feeling someone, somewhere said, “Perfect!”

Lots of older women like tankinis, but I settled on a mix-and-match with a similar style. The hipster bikini bottoms are from Target. The rashguard with Ultraviolet Protection Factor (UPF) is from Athleta. The top does not balloon up in the water, and the bottoms don’t ride up my butt. Those might be my only two requirements at this point.

Also, I am fairly modest in how I dress, but I found “full coverage” bottoms were not particularly flattering to my lower half. It turns out I like a slightly skimpier bottom with ruching in the back. I was as surprised as anyone, so I encourage you to experiment, even when you think it will look ridiculous.

Although I chose this swimsuit combo to accommodate my flatness, it would look great on curvier women with breasts. The folds in the top are flattering for all shapes and sizes, and you can pair it with a swim skirt or board shorts if you prefer. Athleta also makes tops with long sleeves for those who need more sun protection.

I spent years being self-conscious about how I looked in a swimsuit. My breasts weren’t perky enough. My butt was too big and my abs too flabby. I absorbed all the hype about getting your beach body ready by summer and made myself miserable. Then life happened, and I no longer had breasts to complain about.

Only after my mastectomy did I come to fully appreciate the concept that all bodies are beach bodies.

A goody two-shoe’s guide to legal cannabis

I attended a four-day cannabis industry seminar and learned even sweet retirees and law-abiding citizens like you and me can make innocent mistakes and get in trouble with the police.

Cannabis, in my view, is safe and effective medicine. I’m a true believer, and I’d like to be part of the legal cannabis industry that is emerging across the country. I attended the seminar to see how I might use my skills and talents in this realm, my second act so to speak. The course covers everything from cultivating plants to running a dispensary. I was shocked to find myself practicing what to say to the police.

Say what?

Well, the laws regarding cannabis are iffy at best. While medical and recreational use is legal in California, where I live, it’s not legal at the federal level. Mostly the feds don’t mess with states, but they’ve been known to raid a dispensary here and there. It’s important to play by the rules, or you might attract unwanted attention. And at a minimum, that’s going to be a pain the the ass.

Let’s talk about you, who probably has nothing to do with the cannabis industry. You might be a casual cannabis consumer. Sloppy behavior might attract the attention of local police.

What’s sloppy?

  • Selling cannabis to a friend (or undercover cop)
  • Smoking or vaping in public
  • Driving under the influence
  • Exceeding possession limits
  • Keeping an open stash in the car
  • Decorating your car with cannabis stickers

While there’s no law against cannabis stickers, it’s like a neon light saying, “Hey! I might have illegal stuff in here!”

Staying safe shouldn’t be hard. Don’t sell it, do use it at home, don’t drive high, only buy what’s allowed, put it in the trunk when you leave the dispensary and take it out when you get home. However, let’s say you are coming home after a cannabis purchase and get stopped for a broken tail light. The policeman says he smells pot and asks to search your car.

This is when I got scared. We had to practice saying in our polite police voice, “Officer, I don’t consent to searches.” Even if they ultimately search your car, the lawyers advised never consent. Not allowing searches without a warrant also applies to your home. Our study materials included the embedded video on how to deal with the police.

You may not use cannabis. You may think there’s nothing in your car or home that would trouble the police, but most of us are vulnerable in some way. Friends and family members, including children and grandchildren, have been known to borrow the car and leave drug paraphernalia behind. Or hide illegal substances or even unregistered guns in your home.

A cannabis attorney who was lecturing talked about the potential legal ramifications of growing cannabis or selling cannabis products. I’m thinking, holy crap, I’m writing about it. Is that a risk? I waited until a break and approached him.

I explained my position, and he said no problem, you’re just exercising your first amendment rights. You don’t actually touch the product for business purposes. I’m like, OK, you’re sure? Because I respect and appreciate the police, but I don’t want anything to do with them. Ever. He’s like, yeah, got it.

Watching the police video seemed like a ridiculous idea to me, a complete straight arrow and goody two-shoes when it comes to the law, but my husband and I watched it together, and we learned a few things that hopefully will NOT come in handy someday.

Even if you have nothing to do with cannabis, life comes with many opportunities for interacting with the police. The video is worth a few minutes of your time.

And remember – when driving home from the dispensary, keep your cannabis sealed and put in the trunk or storage area of a hatchback.