My week in food

Sometimes I think food is the only thing that matters. Eat well, and all is well. We spend a good deal of our waking hours thinking about dinner, shopping for dinner and preparing dinner. Then there’s breakfast, lunch and happy hour, but I’ll save that for a different day.

News of the world has distressed me, so I’m trying to stay off the internet and focus on the simple pleasures that make me happy. That’s probably good advice for all of us.

I guess it’s not much of a blog post, but I thought, why not just list what we’ve been eating? It’s a pretty awesome list. Maybe not the healthiest – I’m looking at you dairy – but  awesome nonetheless. I hope reading about food takes you to your happy place.

Monday – Dale made grilled bison cheeseburgers. I made a grated carrot, fennel, hazelnut and orange salad to go with. We each had a handful of potato chips. The brand is Gibble’s. They are from Pennsylvania. The chips mysteriously arrive in the mail when Dale is left at home without adult supervision.

Tuesday – Dale’s homemade chicken tortilla soup from the freezer. We top it with crumbled queso fresco, diced avocado, fried tortilla strips and cilantro. Oh, and a squeeze of lime.

Wednesday: Dale made his original version of pork curry with green beans, corn and eggplant in a spicy tomato sauce. I made raita (cucumbers and yogurt) to go with. We also had a dollop of apricot chutney I made from some fresh apricots a neighbor plucked from his tree.

Thursday – I made whole wheat crepes stuffed with mushrooms and asparagus in a creamy pecorino Romano sauce. Spinach and arugula salad to go with. The mushrooms were cooked in a bit of water first and then almost caramelized with a little oil. This is my new favorite way to brown mushrooms.

Friday: Dale’s homemade pizza with whole wheat crust, shrimp, kalamata olives, basil, fresh tomatoes, habanero peppers and goat cheese. I pick the peppers off, and it’s still crazy hot. Dale is a machine.

Saturday: Donna’s tomato pie with cheddar cheese, basil and chives in a double biscuit crust. I used half lard and half butter in the biscuit dough, and we both thought it was better than all-butter.

Sunday: Grilled lamb chops with rosemary and garlic, grilled asparagus (the other half of the bundle I bought for the crepes) and tabbouli salad. Dale did the grilling, and I made the tabbouli, which is bulgar, tomatoes, parsley, mint and green onions in a vinegarette.  I was generous with the olive oil and lemon juice, and Dale thought it was a wee bit too wet. I thought it was perfect, but next time I’ll back off the juice.

Monday: Leftover tomato pie reheated in the oven.

Tonight: BLTs on Donna’s homemade sourdough bread. The dough felt kind of dry, but I got the best rise ever on this loaf. Great for sandwiches. Something to be learned there.

The tomatoes were late this year, but the farmer’s market starting carrying them two weeks ago. So, it’s really a race to the finish. How many tomatoes can we eat before the season is over?

Oh, and on the tomato front, upon a tip from the NY Times, I made a tomato sandwich for lunch one day with salt, mayonnaise and a generous shake of furikake, a Japanese seasoning made with sesame seeds, nori and maybe some salt and sugar. Delicious!   

Tomato Pie

Print Recipe

Ingredients
  

For the filling

  • 2 pounds fresh tomatoes
  • 1 1/2 cups grated cheddar cheese
  • 1 cup fresh basil leaves, roughly chopped
  • 1/3 cup minced chives
  • 1/3 cup mayonnaise thinned with 2 tablespoons of fresh lemon juice

For the crust

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon table salt
  • 1 stick butter cut into 1-inch pieces
  • 4 teaspoons baking powder
  • 3/4 cup whole milk

Instructions
 

  • Peel and slice the tomatoes and let them sit in a collander about 30 minutes to drain. Freeze the butter for about 20 minutes.
  • In the food processor, blend flour, salt and baking powder. Add the butter pieces and pulse until the butter is roughly incorporated. Add milk and blend until it comes together. Divide the dough in two, and gently roll out the bottom crust, using more flour to keep it from sticking.
  • Line a 9-inch pie plate with the bottom crust.
  • On top of the crust, add the sliced tomatoes and then the basil and chives. Sprinkle 1 cup of the cheese on top, and then drizzle the mayonnaise/lemon mixture over the top and then add the rest of the cheddar.
  • Roll the remaining dough and fit it over the filling, pinching the dough around the pie plate to seal the edges. Cut several steam vents in the top crust and bake the pie at 400 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes, or until golden brown on the top and bottom.
  • Cool on a rack for a few minutes before slicing.

Juggling streaming services

I watch very little network television other than old Law & Order reruns, but dag, I do love the streaming options available today. I figured with all this great content, actors and writers would be making money out the wazoo. Apparently, that is not the case, as evidenced by the SAG-AFTRA strike. I hope they find a solution, because I can ignore a lot of bad craziness in the world if there’s something good to watch on TV. Seriously, it’s a quality-of-life issue.

Currently I subscribe to Netflix and Apple TV+. By the way, if you like crime stories, the six-episode series Black Bird on Apple TV+ is excellent. It’s based on a true story and was developed by the writer Dennis Lehane.

Anyway, two services should be enough, but it really isn’t. The problem is when I like a show, I eventually run out of episodes, and then I start shopping around for a new show until another season drops. I get done with a Netflix series and can’t find anything else that interests me, so I shop around over at Apple. When I’m done there, I hop back over to Netflix and hope for the best.

It seems to me if you had four or five streaming services, you’d have a ready supply of content, so when one series ends, another one begins. Theoretically, you’d always have a favorite in the queue. I’m not sure it would really work that way, but it sounds good on paper.

All that to say I’m thinking of adding STARZ and Hulu. That would seem to round it all out nicely, but I’m kind of a tight wad and feel so many subscriptions is perhaps a bit indulgent. The money is actually not a big percentage of my budget, so I’m thinking, why the hell not? It’s not like I’m stuck with some high-ticket item that never gets used. If my finances change, I cancel.

The last movie I saw in a theater was Wild with Reese Witherspoon. That was pre-pandemic, so I can’t blame Covid. There have been some that tempted me, but I always wait for it to come out on a streaming service, and I’m absolutely fine with that. The best movies seem to hit Amazon first, where you pay by the drink, and that’s OK with me. I always search for free content, but if it’s something I really want to see, I’ll cough up the money.

Oppenheimer would definitely make the cut when it lands somewhere after the initial run. This sounds crazy, but I suspect Barbie will be in that mix eventually. It just sounds like a fun movie, and I’m not at all bitter I never had a Barbie. My sister, who is two years older, got the Barbie, and I got a Tammy. She wasn’t quite as glamorous as Barbie, but neither was I.

As for reading, I settled on the Easy Rawlins series by Walter Mosley. The first four weren’t in the library, so I had to pay for those. The Kindle version was $14.99, which I thought was spendy, but I did it anyway. I’m about to start book five, which I got from the library, so it should be smooth sailing from here.

Easy is a black World War II veteran who leaves Houston after the war and moves to Los Angeles. I love the historical California connection, and I like Easy’s hard-boiled detective persona. In the novels I’ve read so far, there is a lot of tension between black culture and white society, and the author brings it all to life with larger-than-life characters and complex mystery.

When I sit down to read one of the Easy Rawlins stories, I feel like I’m slipping into that world … complete escapism, and that works for me.

Retirement phases

I’ve heard it said retirement comes in phases. One would assume it’s different for everyone. I only know when I retired, I couldn’t quite let go of the need to feel successful. That first phase was frustrating, because I was no longer particularly successful at anything.

My plan was to keep dabbling, see what interested me, what stuck. After five years of enjoying simple pleasures and indulging in creative pursuits, that burning desire to achieve something beyond daily existence started to subside.

The turning point was lunch with my childhood friend, who shocked me by the details she remembered from my troubled youth. Her insights were enlightening, and I came to realize my life turned out way better than anyone could have expected. And whatever success I had in my career was plenty.

In this new retirement phase, I feel different. Like I’m just part of the ecosystem, at peace with the rest of the flora and fauna that share this space, with no need to measure up or justify my existence. It feels great, although accepting that I’m enough has changed my motivation for writing.

For me, writing was often about trying to feel validated. But it seems I don’t need that validation anymore, so I’m in search of the sweet spot that’s more about creative expression and personal connections. I’m not sure how this new focus will reveal itself, but I’m thankful you read my stuff and hope you’ll go along for the ride.

Which brings us to a topic foremost on my mind these days, and that would be Ultra-Processed Foods (UPFs). They are getting a lot of buzz lately, so I read the new book, Ultra-Processed People: The Science Behind the Food That Isn’t Food by Chris van Tulleken.

The book is heavy on science, hence the name, and it tells a compelling story about the food industry … how and why it delivers tasty addictive foods that make us fat and unhealthy. Most of us realize by now that sodas, flavored yogurt, snack bars, frozen meals and the like are on the naughty list.

We don’t eat that stuff at our house. But I was surprised to learn some foods we eat frequently are UPF. Most commercial breads. English muffins! Some peanut butter. Flour tortillas. Some fruit juices. You have to look at the ingredients, and if it’s a long list of unpronounceables, you’re looking at UPF.

Are you concerned about UPFs? Do you have a strategy?

As for us, Dale and I agreed we’ll still eat some of the bad stuff occasionally, but we’ll make simple changes where we can. I bought some natural peanut butter, and I actually like it, although I miss the mouth-feel you get from the hydrogenated oils they add to the highly processed kind. We bake a lot of bread, so we can get around that one with a little planning.

The biggest challenge would be flour tortillas. They are a pain in the ass to make, but I see that day coming. Another option would be to check out the local mercados.  I would assume if they’re making flour tortillas from scratch at the facility, they don’t have all the extra junk added. I could freeze them.

Make new friends but keep the old

I mentioned a little while ago my 50th high school reunion committee found me, and I’ve been connecting with a handful of those I used to hang out with. It’s part of a larger conspiracy to get me to actually attend the reunion, which is in September, but the upside is I’ve had some great conversations with people I haven’t heard from in many, many years.  

Last week I had lunch with one of my old friends who lives not all that far away. We met in the middle – about an hour’s drive for each of us – and it was so much fun I’ve actually been considering the reunion.

We think we met in the 8th grade. And then went to the same high school. We mostly had the same circle of friends throughout high school, although she was under the mistaken impression I was included because I was one of the smart ones. There must have been another reason, although I was pretty good at English.

In fact, she couldn’t wait to tell me her favorite memory. She was good at math but struggled with English. She said I taught her how to write a five-paragraph essay and even drew a diagram, and it stuck with her through high school and college.

I vaguely remember having a little formula for writing essays, and once she prompted me, I could sort of recall the details. I know I did write a few essays in exchange for cash, but I forgot to ask her if I charged her! She was so pleased to hear I capitalized on my strengths and fashioned a great career in corporate communications.

As for high school, my downfall was geometry and then biology, because I wouldn’t dissect a frog. She said she didn’t either. I got bumped from the college prep program partly because of that, but also because I did so poorly on the SATs.

She made the cut in spite of the frog situation and went on to college after high school graduation like all my other friends. But she said she got married while in college and started having babies, so it took her a little longer than some. I joined the Army and went to college later on the G.I. Bill.

We went to school with a bunch of rich kids. My friend’s parents were educated but of modest means, I think, and she remembered my family life was messed up, and we didn’t have much money. Both of us were kind of shocked we turned out pretty great all things considered.

I’m still socially awkward and am reluctant to attend the reunion, but I was surprised how special it was to spend an afternoon with someone who knew me before I was fully formed. And that all this time has passed, yet I found myself liking her more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time.

Seriously, she was so kind and charming and interesting, and I was beating myself up for losing touch in the first place.

I remember a little poem or maybe it was a song I learned as a child.

Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver

The other is gold

Is that your outside voice?

Number 38

So, gosh, politics. I understand nothing. Not to go all MAGA on you, but in some ways, I’m glad I don’t even have to pretend I’m intelligent anymore. One of the many joys of retirement. You can be dumb or play dumb, and no one cares.

When I was working as a communications professional for a big corporation, we interacted with all kinds of people in and outside of the company, and no matter what, you had to say the right thing … informed but ambiguous, direct but nonconfrontational, sincere but aloof. Seriously, it’s an art form.

You also had to be careful with your colleagues, because you never knew who was in a position to offer an opinion about your future.

Oh, Beatrice. She’s certainly competent, but some are saying she lacks executive presence.

John’s a great guy, but he needs a few more years to sharpen his soft skills.

Which brings me to Bud Light. Sales are down because the company featured a transgender woman in an advertising campaign. An acquaintance asked me what I thought. You can see how my responses have evolved since I retired, and my inside voice morphed into my outside voice.  

Old

I respect the right to boycott as an expression of your personal beliefs, and at the same time, it’s my hope that people can come together and appreciate our differences.

New

It’s bullshit. Why do you care who’s transgender and who isn’t? Maybe they would like me instead? Gray, grumpy, opinionated, post-menopausal. #dreamgirls. And, oh, by the way, I’ll be drinking extra Bud Light just because I’m pissed off, and someone has to do it.

Here’s another example. I’m sort of looking for a new car. No rush, but it’s on the horizon. I’ve been thinking about an electric car and ruled out Tesla. A friend asked me why.

Old

I’m seeing a lot of innovation at Tesla, but I’m just a little concerned about quality as production ramps up.

New

Because I despise Elon Musk, and I’m not buying a fucking Tesla.

Or you can just keep your mouth shut. That works, too.

On the bright side, we got a new coffee maker. When the old one went on the fritz, I did my usual hunter-gatherer thing and read every single review of every single coffee pot made in this century. I’m attracted to bells and whistles … perhaps the BeanMaster 5000 … but came up empty-handed.

Dale, on the other hand, happened to be in Target and saw a coffee pot that looked almost exactly like the one we have.

And just like that, done. Why is everything so easy for him?

Life between medical appointments

I was about to say this has been the coolest summer I’ve spent in California, but technically, it’s not summer yet. Hmmm. I told you spring was trouble.

Sometimes it does feel like getting older is about what happens between medical appointments. And I’m healthy!

Dale and I got the latest Covid booster and both doses of the Shingles vaccine. My wrist appointment was last week, and I’ll get to that, but I had a little skin scare in the meantime. And I’m not talking about the routine scary stuff you see in the magnifying mirror.

For the record, I go to the dermatologist every two years for a full body exam. At my last check-up, I had a small scaly patch above my left ear just at the hairline. Hard to even see. The doctor said it was nothing. But then a few weeks ago, it got thicker and uglier, and I was terrified.

I had to wait weeks. Just enough time for me to imagine strike three on the cancer front. I had already decided I wasn’t afraid to have half my face carved off as long as it wasn’t cancerous. Anyway, as the doctor previously said, it was nothing. Or benign keratosis, which passes for nothing one presumes.

The physician’s assistant zapped it with the freezer gun before I could say boo. Seriously, it went down like a shootout at the O.K. Corral. There was an unattractive scab, but it’s pretty much gone now.

She said never think you’re going to look stupid for getting something checked out. Just do it. Good advice for all of us.

As for the wrists. I broke both of them in 2012 when I fell off my bicycle. The right one was in a cast, but we didn’t know I broke the left one, too, so it didn’t heal properly. That said, it’s my right one that hurts the most. But it’s a sporadic thing, depending on how I choose to abuse myself.

Golf and swimming aren’t problematic, but some of that yoga I experimented with back in the fall was not good. Hyperextension is the killer. That’s like downward dog and planks, which I hate anyway. I know now not to do that, but as per usual, I had to learn the hard way, and it took months to recover.

I had seen this ortho about four years ago, so we could compare old x-rays to new ones. He said I have mild arthritis resulting from the old injuries, but it hasn’t progressed much at all. The only new thing was arthritis in my right thumb.

Thumb arthritis! Who knew?

That’s my phone scrolling thumb, which gets quite a workout with all my games and puzzles. They always ask if this is a work-related injury, but I guess they don’t care if it’s a retirement-related injury. No retirees compensation fund.

The doc said I don’t need to stop playing but try to hold the phone in my left palm and use my right forefinger to play. He said I might feel better using a thumb splint, but the one he recommended is $100, so I’m going to wait and see if my behavioral modifications make a difference.

Other than that, he said do what I want, avoid hyperextension.

In other news, my 2010 Ford Fusion Hybrid just went over 100,000 miles. For its age, that’s relatively low mileage, but I commuted by bus for four-plus years, so it spent a lot of time in my garage. Anyway, I’m on the fence about getting a new car. I like this one just fine and am hoping it will go another 50,000 miles at least. I drive like an old lady and have always kept up with maintenance, so there’s a good chance it will hang in there.

While I have money set aside for a new car, the timing is terrible. Aside from shortages and astronomical dealer markups, there’s the question of whether to go electric. Even if I do, I’d like more time to see how the market shakes out. Personally, I like the plug-in hybrids, but there are mixed reviews and even with that, none of the dealers I’ve visited even have them on the lots.

We weren’t Costco members because we shop at a military commissary, but for $60 bucks a year, I decided to join and can take advantage of their auto purchase program. I got a very nice email from them updating me on shortages.

One of the cars I’m interested in is the hybrid 2023 Honda Accord EX-L. There were none on the lot when I visited, but later I contacted them through the Costco program, and a sales rep let me know one is in transit, expecting to arrive in July. Wait and see. And I will definitely wait rather than pay a ridiculous dealer markup.

All that to say, I’m tired of thinking about it for now.  So, I’m back at square one. I’ve scheduled the 100,000 mile tune-up for the Fusion and will hope for the best.

On the entertainment front, I made a list (the magic elixir of peace and serenity) of my fixed entertainment costs and online subscriptions, and they actually don’t add up to as much as I thought. Roughly 10 percent of my Social Security check, and that includes the annual fee I pay for unlimited golf!

I did a free trial of Apple TV+ and am keeping it for now. That’s $6.99 a month. I’ve enjoyed High Desert with Patricia Arquette. Where has she been all my life? I particularly love that she has crooked teeth and never got them fixed. My role model.

Next on the list is Slow Horses.

A book I can’t stop thinking about

I often recommend books, but I don’t write full reviews. A couple of sentences, and I’m onto the next thing. This isn’t a proper review, but the novel moved me in a powerful way, and I believe it deserves more than a passing note.

The book is Small Mercies by Dennis Lehane. The setting is Boston … the summer of 1974, when a judge’s order to desegregate schools meant busing students between predominantly white and black neighborhoods would begin in September.  

The key character is Mary Pat Fennessy, an angry, 40-something single mom from the housing projects of Southie, a tight-knit community of Irish Americans. She has already lost a son to drugs, and now her 17-year-old daughter doesn’t come home one night. On that same night, a young black man was killed under mysterious circumstances.

Mary Pat starts to put the mystery together, and her daughter, still missing, is central to the crime. As Mary Pat investigates, she seeks revenge and has some rather unpleasant encounters with the Irish mob.

These people are vile, racist and profane, and it’s sometimes hard to read. No one is hiding their prejudices in this story. Mary Pat is awful and filled with rage but actually quite funny. You want to hate her, but there’s something more to Mary Pat than you realize at first, and she goes after some seriously bad guys.  

This is not your ordinary crime thriller. I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s easy to hate these people, but you begin to see how hate is a disease that gets passed down from generation to generation, and you realize with great sadness the damage it does to everyone, and like Mary Pat, you ultimately figure it has to stop somewhere.

An exceptional book. That’s all I can say.

Number 37

In other news, I finished number 37. It’s interesting for me to see how my art has evolved. I started with just abstract designs drawn freehand, because I’m not good are drawing real things freehand. But then I started adding images and linking them together with abstract lines. I’d say the newer stuff is more mural-like.

Most images I draw freehand even if they are a bit crude, but others are simply beyond my skill level. In this piece, I printed out a clipart illustration of a lobster, traced it and transferred it by putting the pencil side down and retracing the lines. It transfers just enough of the pencil marks to give me an image I can work with. Same for the taco, although I did some of the filling freehand.

Finally, I have a brilliant quote to share. A friend from my Army days found me through the blog, and we have been corresponding. It has been so great to catch up after all these years. She is also a cancer survivor, and her ordeal makes mine look like look like a walk in the park.

In her last email, she wrote this:

“Sometimes I think: I lived from cancer–how can I justify my luck when others die. What can I do? But maybe we only owe the world community a little niceness, vaccinations, and not buying any assault weapons.”

It’s good to have smart friends.

Travels with crazy

With apologies to John Steinbeck, I’m calling this post Travels with Crazy. I’d like to say I’m not the crazy one, but yeah, it’s me.

Narrow mountain roads terrify me. Well, all mountain roads terrify me. Maybe all roads.

I think it’s a control thing, because I’m way less terrified if I am driving. My husband, Dale, prefers to drive as we scoot about California in our retirement travels. He is not a bad driver, but I’m constantly worried he’s going to do the big dumb thing, and we’re both going to fly off the edge and die.

I don’t like edges.

He does not appreciate my feedback, even the unspoken suggestions such as the air brake – when I, the passenger, mimic squeezing the brake with my right foot because, well, it feels like we’re going too fast.  

Then there’s the passive-aggressive, “Are you OK?” Yes, damn it, he’s fine. Quit asking.

All this as an introduction to one of our upcoming adventures. Dale has a hankering to visit Death Valley in the summer. He thinks that’s when you’re going to see it and feel it as it is meant to be experienced, and I just figure I’ll be that much closer to death.

I booked us for a couple of nights in July at The Inn at Death Valley, which looks stunning. I have no problems hanging out there. Possibly with a cocktail by the pool. Ah, but then there’s the road trip.

Google maps suggests the quickest route from our home is via 395 through the Sierras. And that’s at nearly eight hours. Oh, and 395 has been described as one of the most dangerous highways in California. Beautiful but dangerous, just like some of the women I used to work with.

We have driven part of 395 before, and I was pretty scared, especially when you’re blinded by the sun. Then there’s all the twisty turns, and I just have to close my eyes.

Dale’s like, oh, cool, look over there!

No, no, I cry. Keep your eyes on the road!

Alternatives include I-5 to Bakersfield at about 10 hours or Route 99 through Fresno at just over nine. That’s if you believe Google maps, and there’s no construction, traffic or accidents.

At first I thought we could take 395, and I would pre-medicate. But then if something horrible happens, I would not be able to save us. I think it’s prudent for both parties to be cognizant and ready to drive at all times. Right? Or is that the crazy talking?

Then I thought, perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if we broke it up. Maybe spend the night in Mammoth, which I understand can be quite trafficky. That also assumes you add the day at each end of the trip. Dale said maybe on the way there, but he’s ready to make a run for it and get home in one day. Mostly to see the cat, but that’s another issue.

The alternative routes are longer, but they seem safer and less stressful to me. I don’t think the suns shines on the freeway like it does in the mountains. And we could spend a night in Bakersfield. Dale gave me the stink eye on that one, but hey, Merle Haggard, Buck Owens … it was good enough for them.

Then I’m thinking, I don’t know, do cars hold up in the heat? How much extra water would be have to carry in case we get stuck somewhere and wait days or weeks to be rescued? Should we update our wills?

Aside from the logistics, we’d both like to go. We’ve been discussing the trip, and Dale has been quite understanding. The man knows crazy when he sees it. While he’s not riddled with irrational fear, he’s not enthusiastic about a marathon drive, either. So, he has his own doubts.

That’s where we are. Still time to commit, still time to cancel. Call me crazy, but it seems like we’ve been here before.

A change of pace

My bum wrists are acting up, so I’m taking a break from golf, even though golf has never been the culprit. Just experimenting a bit to see what makes them feel better. I have a doctor’s appointment in June, so the question is will I last that long without even hitting a few balls?

So far, reading a heavy book hurts more than golf. I’m switching to my Kindle until these wrists are under control.

On the bright side, not playing golf gives me so much time back. It’s like, where did all these hours come from? I’m somewhat a slave to routine, but I’m finding the change of pace is good for the soul. Doing different things makes me think about different things and helps me gain a little perspective in how I spend my precious retirement hours.

I’m walking a lot. This is another experiment to find the best balance of distance and frequency. So far, I think I’m better off keeping the distance to three or four miles but walking every day. I never have pain when I walk, but if I overdo it, the leg on my sciatica side hurts at night and messes with my sleep.

I can sort of see the beginning of the end of my dream to do a long-distance walk. I don’t think my body will hold up. But I can still do a lot, so I’m not complaining.

The NY Times recently featured a recipe for chocolate overnight oatmeal. I made it their way first and then tweaked it to my liking. The taste of chia seeds was fine, but I didn’t like the texture. Same for dates. I adore dates, but they were gummy in this oatmeal.

The chocolate is another variable. I used cocoa powder the first time, and it was delish, but then I saw a bag of cacao powder hanging around the pantry and decided to use that. They are equally yummy. I believe the only difference between the two is the degree of processing.

For one serving, here’s my modification:

In a mason jar, add ½ cup old-fashioned oats, ¾ cup milk, 1 tablespoon of cocoa or cacao powder, 2 tablespoons of maple syrup and ½ teaspoon of vanilla extract. Cover tightly, shake well and refrigerate overnight. I like to add 1 tablespoon of grated coconut.

I had low expectations, but I love this oatmeal.

Speaking of low expectations, I was pleased Trump was found liable in the E. Jean Carroll case. For some people, it was a long shot, but I’ll share a conversation I had after playing golf with my women’s league a few weeks ago.

Our group is a mix politically, as everything is, so we try to be careful about delicate conversations. I was talking with K. about how we wanted Trump held accountable when another woman sat down, overhearing the tail end of the discussion. She was incredulous. After all this time? How could this so-called victim remember anything? Come on!

K. was quiet and then looked up. She said, “I was sexually assaulted 30 years ago, and I remember it like it was yesterday.”

Well, there you go. Mouths open, mouths closed.

By the way, this is irrelevant and possibly offensive, but I liked E. Jean’s hair and the way she dressed. Although I am not nearly as chic, I had a similar style when I was working. Pleated skirts, tights. Heeled Mary Jane’s. Fitted jackets. She made me want to wear skirts again. And bangs! I don’t think I’ll go there, but they looked great on her.

The reality of spring

Spring always disappoints me. By this time, I’m ready for the warmer weather, but the cold and rain can’t quite quit us. My neighbor, high on life and all that, likes to say rain is wonderful! This is the way it’s supposed to be! Relish the cold – it will be hot soon enough!

OK, Earth Girl, message received, but I’m still pissed.

It rained Tuesday, but I walked anyway. I’m trying to increase my mileage as a test to see if my body will hold up for a long-distance walk of some sort. I thought I’d build up slowly (months) and eventually try to walk 10 miles three days in a row. What do you think walkers? Good plan? Bad plan?

I’m on a mission now, and I was like, rain, you can’t stop me! It actually wasn’t so bad.

Yesterday was golf, and it was cold and miserable. I played very badly. My body just won’t move properly when I’m freezing. I’m never happy about bad golf, but I have evolved. I’m no longer embarrassed. Sometimes I play great golf, and sometimes I play horrible golf. What you see is what you get.

Today is another rainy one, so in the spirit of accepting the reality of spring, I decided to make the most of it. A little Covid vaccination to kick things off. We got our second benevolent booster in the morning, but after that, I was a free agent. I went to the library and loaded up on books.

I paused as I walked across the library parking lot and reflected on the reality of nature’s cool wetness fucking up my glasses.

The “Lucky Day” stack had Life on the Mississippi: An Epic American Adventure by Rinker Buck. His previous book, The Oregon Trail, was great, so I have high hopes for this one.

As a crime fiction aficionado, I have been remiss in my Don Winslow reading. He is among the best. I absolutely loved his earlier works but am afraid to read the border trilogy, which deals with the war on drugs. I’m not sure I can get through the violence. I decided to try The Force, which is about the NYPD.

I love the library for many reasons, but I especially love the no-risk element for a book I’m uncertain about.  Oh, and I’m on the waiting list for Small Mercies, Dennis Lehane’s new book. He’s another great crime writer if you haven’t read him yet. Mystic River is maybe his most famous, probably due to the movie, but I would start with A Drink Before the War.

Then I came home and consoled myself with a tuna melt. I made it in a gratin dish without the bread, and it was just delicious. I do pride myself on eating very little processed food and was disappointed to learn canned tuna is considered a processed food. I thought, well, if I’m going to die, a tuna melt is not a bad way to go.

That said, I am going to pay more attention to labels. I thought ice cream was better than, say, candy, since ice cream is a real food, except they add all kinds of shit to it, so it’s not exactly pristine, either. I’m not going to get fanatic about what I eat, but I do want to know what’s fueling the engine. I might still go for death food, but I’ll think of it as informed consent.

After that, I went out into the garage and worked on my art for a bit. That usually makes me feel good.

I really need to clean the bathroom, but it’s not high on my list. I have all those new books, and I’m thinking it’s time to get started.