Month: October 2022

Random Sunday thoughts

Number 33

Goodness, I’m still messing around with blog design, so be forewarned. Just when you thought you knew what to expect, it will change. While I do love sharing my art, I’ve come to realize I need a simpler banner image. I went with a plain background of rippling water until something better comes along.

I’ll continue to feature examples of my art on individual blog posts such as this one … and continue to update the gallery. As you can tell, I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. But I can’t seem to give up, either.

Number 33 is a little different, and I don’t expect to make statements like that all the time. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want to see this particular piece as the blog banner. I like it a lot, and it’s a reflection of how I feel, but for me, not everything has a message. Sometimes it’s just crazy colors, pizza or cats. I do love that art can take you any way you want to go.

We’ve talked a good bit on this blog about back pain and various activities that can help or hurt. My particular ailment, according to medical professionals, is a herniated disc at L4-L5, resulting in spinal stenosis and sciatica. I’ve been doing great and only have a little pain. And that’s with golf, walking, swimming and light hand-held weights.

My neurologist said yoga or Pilates would be OK, but I hate messing with a good thing. Both seem fraught with peril. However, the club where I swim posted a flyer about a new class – chair yoga – and I went.

The class was only 30 minutes, and you sit in a chair the whole time. I absolutely loved it and felt great afterward. I went for a walk later that day and wanted to run! Of course, I didn’t, but I think the yoga loosened me up.

I’m going back for more and plan to ask the instructor what she recommends for an online chair yoga program. Our Covid situation is pretty good right now, but I’m assuming it will go downhill this winter, and I’d like to have options. I also want to hear her thoughts about slowly progressing to another class they have called Gentle Yoga.

To celebrate, I bought some yoga tights. Because now I do yoga, right?

My final random thoughts on this lovely Sunday. I’m so glad Halloween is almost over. I used to love it, but it’s so over the top these days. We watch a lot of Food Network, and it’s all Halloween all the time. Just get me to Thanksgiving safely.

And for dinner … I’m introducing Dale to something I invented while he was in Maine. I’m calling it a Hot Dog Reuben. Just like a regular one, except I use hot dogs instead of corned beef. I split them lengthwise (but not all the way through) and sear them in a pan.

Pretty darned good if I must say so myself. Not that hot dogs are a dietary staple at our house, but sometimes you just have to go for it.

Art to the rescue

Although I generally like the way I look, aging and all, I couldn’t stand staring into my face every time I clicked on the blog’s homepage. And then it repeated on all the other pages! It was too much. After tinkering with WordPress for quite some time, I gave up and posted a sample of my pallet art, which is now plastered across all the pages but is infinitely more pleasing to my eye.

Above is Number 32. This time I experimented with the paint and went with something less than opaque. Also, peace! I mean, why can’t we have nice things? I thought I would rotate them as I create new pieces.

There was a guy at work, George, who thought he was all that and a bag of chips. Rising gloriously from behind his desk was a giant and quite excellent painting of his own work, and I thought a guy who would do that has an ego that can’t be killed with a stake through the heart. I actually have a wobbly ego, but art makes me feel good, so I kind of get where he was coming from. Creating art gives you a sense of validation you may not find on the job or in the mirror.

I’m grateful to have discovered artistic passion in retirement. I’m such a beginner, but I confess that recently I got a little cocky and purchased fancy paper and sketching pencils to see if I could broaden my horizons. I’m glad I did it, because I learned that sketching can be fun and helps me with designs for my woodburning art, but it’s the wood that keeps me coming back.

While I’m no great artist, I find joy in taking scraps someone tossed and transforming them into something else. Anything I do to them is an improvement, so I can just let it rip. I have quite a collection now, and my house is like the Island of Misfit Pallets. In a way, we have rescued each other.

My father was a creative dabbler who was always trying to make a buck and repeatedly failed at various entrepreneurial ventures. From importing jewelry to making metal replicas of social security cards, they all flopped. I find it interesting he was most successful at rescuing paper scraps from his job in a bindery and making scratch pads, which he sold at swap meets in Southern California.

Sometimes it’s right there in front of you.

The extra-slow cooker and me

I haven’t been writing much, and that’s never good. But I have been thinking a lot about writing, so go me.

In the absence of words, I decided to update my blog pictures. Updated banner and “About me” photos now feature my 67-year-old face and my current hair, a bob I refused to get when I was working because it seemed so cliché. But now that I’m a woman of leisure, it’s like, look at me, not the slug you thought I was!

My big news is that I bought the KitchenAid slow cooker and used it for the first time this weekend. Dinner was Dijon and Cognac Beef Stew from the NY Times. The cooking section is now subscription-based, which originally pissed me off. I was reluctant to sign up, but I did it and have no regrets. I like the variety of recipes, which you can save and organize in a recipe box.

The comments are particularly entertaining. There’s always somebody who says something like I’m allergic to kale, can I substitute canned beets? Or, I was born in wherever, and this recipe isn’t anything like the way my mother made it. Eventually, somebody says, no, if you can’t eat kale, find something else to eat or if we wanted your mother’s recipe, we would have asked for it. While the substitutions can get carried away, there are also some great tips from home chefs who have actually made the dish.

But I digress. We loved this stew when I made it on the cooktop, but there’s also a slow cooker version, so I thought I’d check it out.

Although I cut the beef up the night before, I chopped the vegetables and browned the meat in the morning. So, this is embarrassing. But Dale does most of the grocery shopping. I really didn’t know how much chuck roast cost. Now I do, and let’s just say I was careful trimming, as I didn’t want any of that precious jewel to go down the drain.

Anyway, I also now understand why I didn’t buy a slow cooker when I was gainfully employed. Who has time to do all that before work? I got up at 4 a.m., and it was a close run thing to make it out the door on schedule.

The slow cooker, in concept, now seems rather perfect for retirement. Some prep in the morning, but no super-early rise. A little clean-up, and then we can pretty much goof off all day. Ideally, it’s golf-friendly appliance. Returning home after a long day of recreation, dinner awaits! But then I have Dale for that, so I’m not really sure I need a slow cooker.

I like to make soups and stews and missed tending to it. It made me nervous. Like, is this thing really going to cook? I’ve read you’re not supposed to take off the lid, so no tasting as you go, but leaving it completely alone is kind of weird. Now that I think about it, if I had actually gone somewhere, I wouldn’t have even noticed it.

But it was Sunday, and we usually do our fun things during the week, when it’s less crowded. So, we just hung out, avoiding the siren call to stir that damned thing. Instead of bread, I made two small rounds of pie crust, baked them on a cookie sheet and then used them as toppers for the stew.

Dale had to toss our other little treat so as to save us from ourselves. The meat was browned in the fat from rendered chopped salt pork. Those crispy pork nuggets are salty but rather delicious. Dale said his mother used to fry up little chunks and sprinkle it over fish chowder or boiled potatoes – just mash them right in with your fork.

The outcome? Well, at low, the stew never reached a simmer, even after six hours. That’s when I breached the seal, and the beef was still tough, the carrots nearly raw. I had a slow cooker cookbook from the library, so I studied up a bit and set the heat at high for two hours. The book said some cooks use high for an hour at the beginning to raise the temperature and then set it back to low.

The stew was good, but Dale thought it was hammered. But yes, that’s feedback from the human slow cooker, who just might want to preserve his legacy as the best cooker in the house. My complaint is that I thought these things were supposed to be “set it and forget it.” I went back to the Cook’s Illustrated review, and it appears I purchased the extra-slow cooker, which they still claim is a better machine.

But it still has to reach a simmer in this lifetime, so there’s that.

After reading all that and the consumer reviews, it appears I have to tinker with the times and settings, which annoys me, but OK, I’m in.

I’m ready to try again and would welcome any tips you may have.

The slower the better

Life is pretty slow around here, so it came as kind of a surprise to find myself thinking about ways to take it down a notch. As many of us discover in retirement, there’s something rather comforting in the opposite of fast.

One of the very best things about retirement is the new way of getting up in the morning. I call it the slow rise … it’s not just for bread anymore. Plump the pillows, stay cozy, do Wordle perhaps, doze off again. Think positive thoughts. Ease out of bed around 7 a.m. The slower the better.

But I’m not here to talk about bread or wakening rituals.

Maybe it was 2020, or was it 2021? I started to think about a slow cooker. It’s one of the few kitchen appliances we don’t own, and there must have been a hint of Fall in the air when I began to think about soups and stews and chowders and chilis, oh my.

You can’t rush these things. It’s not like I don’t have the time to make them the old-fashioned way. And I’ve got Dale. He’s the human slow cooker. But it’s not like we need another appliance. Ever the dutiful student, I spent a couple of years looking at slow cooker recipes, to see if I’d use the appliance as much as I imagine. I’m saying yes.

I experimented with the Instant Pot, to see if it’s a suitable replacement. I’m saying no.

Then I read the reviews. America’s Test Kitchen likes this one.

Finally, I looked at our space. We have three small appliances we’re not likely to use anymore, so I could easily imagine donating them to free up a spot for a new slow cooker. The stainless steel fish poacher was an ambitious leftover from the 80s, when we thought whole fish was cool and we hadn’t yet surrendered to the ease of filets. Before we learned poached is not quite the same as roasted, baked, sautéed, simmered, fried or frosted.

Then there’s climate change, nuclear war – what could be so wrong about a little appliance that could bring me such joy in my final years?

I’m running out of arguments and am close to pushing the button, as in low, 6 to 8 hours.

What do you think? Unnecessary indulgence or kitchen essential? Busy retirees want to know.

Cats in high places

Mr. High and Mighty.

Cat food-powered entertainment centers

Usually on Saturdays I run my robot vacuum cleaner downstairs. There are a couple of footstools I stow out of the way, but I’ve never bothered to move the breakfast area chairs. This morning I noticed the floor was kind of messy where we eat, so I put the chairs up on the counter and the table to give the robot full access to said mess.

Well, it was a bonus day for Riley, our cat. Dale and I went to the grocery store while Robo was working hard, and when we returned, there was Riley, Mr. High and Mighty, resting happily in the chair. Cats are so funny. Dale calls them cat food-powered entertainment centers.   

Two shots, same arm, same day

We got our Covid boosters and flu shots. Same arm, same day. Dale said his arm hurt, and he didn’t sleep well. My arm didn’t hurt too much, but I had my usual fever and chills following the flu shot. It’s just something I get. I used to premedicate with Tylenol three days prior, and that fixed it, but they don’t like you to premedicate with Covid shots, so I stopped doing it.

I like getting it all over at once, otherwise I could just space them out and premedicate again. But it’s only for a few hours while I’m sleeping. Still, it was a rough night, and I was pretty whipped first thing in the morning. By lunchtime, I felt OK, and today I feel GREAT.

Feeling so much better is like the opposite of yesterday, and it reminds me of that quote, “I feel sorry for people who don’t drink. When they wake up in the morning, that’s as good as they’re going to feel all day.”

Technology Upgrade

I love technology for the most part, but I hate this constant need to upgrade. My 2016 Kindle Fire has been misbehaving, so I finally caved and bought a new one. It was actually cheaper.

Here’s the rub. I ordered it this morning, and it arrived a few hours later. I mean, I’m not sure Jeff Bezos needs all that money, but damn, that’s pretty slick. I should also give him credit for free shipping both ways. For me, that was a game-changer. Although, I’m just going to say it. I hate Alexa, so no points there.

I just disabled her on my new Fire. That felt good.

Interesting credit card fraud

I was paying my credit card bill and reviewing charges when I saw a $175 purchase from Etsy and a $175 credit from Etsy. Now that’s interesting.

For the record, I have not been shopping on Etsy. But the credit? What’s up with that? I called my bank, and they said it was rather odd. I wondered if the criminals were somehow testing it? Anyway, I had to get a new credit card (again) and re-do all my autopays. I hate that.

However, I did learn one thing. They said it would take 7-10 business days, and I asked, “Is there anyway to expedite that?” And they said sure! I received my new card the next day. Lesson learned. Ask for what you want.

Men without hats

He wasn’t doing the safety dance, but when Dale and I were leaving for the grocery store, he put on his running hat, and I don’t know what made me notice it all of the sudden, but it is disgusting. I lovingly mentioned this to him, and he said when he was visiting his sister in August, she wanted to throw it away.

That made me laugh, so I texted his sister, and she said their other sister just threw her husband’s hat away and made him wear a new one. Clean hat? It’s not that hard.

I’ll close by wishing all the best to our friends in Florida and along the Eastern Seaboard. Ian is a monster. I will confess I briefly wished Ian would make landfall in Lindsey Graham’s backyard. You know, since it bypassed Mar-a-Lago? But then my better self took over, and I just kind of went with a general request for world peace and everyone’s safety.