A pencil skirt from my working days finds new life.
What’s left of my career clothes came back from the dry cleaner, and now I am beginning to play dress up so I can decide whether to keep or donate them. First up was my unlined tropical wool pencil skirt. I wrote earlier it was gray – must have been on the nip that day – as it is black.
In an attempt to style the skirt for casual wear, I paired it with a white t-shirt, cropped denim jacket and turquoise jewelry. Kind of simple, but that’s how I like it. The only thing new are the shoes. I went with sneakers. Not only comfortable, but they also hide my golf tan!
For walking, golf and pretty much everything else, I wear the Speedgoat trail running shoe from Hoka One One. I just purchased this limited version in white for “dress.”
Perhaps I would wear this out for lunch or dinner, if that should ever come to pass. Wine tasting or visiting a museum? I guess anywhere you’d want to improve upon leggings.
Although I’m not much of a fashionista, I think if you wear skirts, this outfit could be flattering, regardless of size or shape. The jacket has a camouflaging effect. As for me, I don’t try to hide my post-mastectomy flatness, but I like how the jacket adds dimension.
It seems to me a white tee, denim jacket and white sneakers would look good with just about any seasonless skirt in your closet. Now that I’ve decided sneakers look OK, I can see all sorts of possibilities.
I played golf with some women I hadn’t met before and afterward, we sat socially distanced around an outside table and enjoyed a cold beer. Soon enough, the topic turned to faces and what to do about them as they age.
One woman was an advocate of Ultherapy. She goes annually and pays between $3,500 – $5,000 for a procedure to tighten everything from the décolletage up. The process is painful, she said, and they give her Valium before, during and after. But you walk wobble out looking good.
The other woman was furiously writing notes on her scorecard. She could definitely see Ultherapy in her future, but for now, she was sticking with Botox. I mostly listened, but then I asked a question.
While in the waiting room at the dermatologist for my skin cancer check-up, I overheard a woman talking about some sort of point system, and she wanted her points carried over from a previous provider. What’s up with that?
According to my fellow golfer, points are part of a rewards or loyalty system for Botox and other injectables. The more the merrier!
I’m in no position to judge, but the whole discussion made me sad nonetheless. I mean, life with all its trials and tribulations, and it all comes down to this? Wrinkles? Messing with your face?
Somehow, I think the prettiest girls – the cheerleaders and the beauty queens – have the hardest time accepting the inevitable ravages of age. I was the weird kid with bad teeth who wore men’s corduroy bedroom slippers to school, held my fork like it was a weapon and wrote poetry in spiral-bound notebooks I kept under the bed.
It’s a miracle I’m walking upright. But like good whiskey, I’ve aged well.
Nobody at the table asked me what I did about my face, because I’m pretty sure they could see the answer would be nothing.
Not that I am without vanity. I like clothes and care about how I look overall. In fact, I’ve been thinking more about how I am going to re-purpose my work wardrobe. I have some ideas that may be in the category of corduroy slippers, but I’m willing to give it a go and may even post the results on this very blog.
I might have to consult with one of my young fashionista friends – they always tell it like it is.
cold-weather comfort food
With some rain expected this weekend, the temperature is supposed to drop into the low 50s, and I think of it as the last hurrah for cold-weather comfort food. And yes, I know 50s is not cold. We call it California Cold.
I’ve been keeping a list and crossing them off as we cook our way through:
Stuffed cabbage
Macaroni & Cheese
New England Baked Beans
Venison Meatloaf
Beef Stroganoff
Porchetta Pie
Chile Verde
Moussaka
I love eggplant, so I lean toward moussaka, which is a casserole made with ground lamb, browned eggplant, tomato sauce, grated sheep’s milk cheese and bechamel on top. Dale likes it, but not as much as I do.
Nostradonna predicts Dale will vote for porchetta pie or chile verde. I love both, so it’s no big deal one way or the other. I make the pie, which is actually several freeform savory tarts made with chunks of pork, pancetta, carrots, onions, fennel and fresh sage.
Dale makes the chile (along with homemade flour tortillas). He usually roasts the tomatillos and chiles outside on the grill, so rain may alter those plans. An alternative would be his Texas-style chile, made with chunks of pork and beef in a rich sauce and no outside grilling component. We love the chili topped with grated cheddar cheese, finely diced onion and buttered saltines on the side.
My neighbor made fun of me teased me about being busy, so busy, as she said in a not completely flattering way. I’m not sure where that’s coming from, but yeah, my days are full. Not stressful but busy and fulfilling in a good way.
Granted, golf sucks up a bunch of my discretionary retirement time, but so does cooking. All those recipes! What to make? And then shopping for ingredients and actually getting in the kitchen to weigh, chop, bake, roast, simmer and sear. And then being forced to eat such deliciousness.
An old stone fence on a trail that runs along a ridge above our neighborhood.
Although I’ve been an avid walker for many years, Dale likes to run a couple of miles and get it over with quick. In the past, he’d walk only when he needed to catch his breath while running. I could rarely get him to accompany me on a walk – sometimes a hike through the woods, but that was rare.
Somewhere along the line he decided to start walking more. After all these years, it’s like a mini-miracle. We live in a neighborhood with all sorts of trails, although the maps leave something to be desired. As a solo woman walker, I’m careful and follow the advice shared with the two young lads in American Werewolf in London:
“Stay off the moors! Stick to the road.”
Of course, they didn’t stick to the road, and the rest is werewolf history. So far, I’m safe.
But Dale has been exploring. He came home all excited and said he wanted to take me on a hike that starts on an obscure trail near the end of our street. So that’s what we did yesterday. He said the narrow path was steep, and he didn’t get good traction with his running shoes, so he switched to hiking boots.
I wore my regular trail running shoes (even though I don’t run). I also took along some trekking poles to help with balance. They also take pressure off the knees.
The surprise came at the top of the ridge, where there was an old stone fence that seemingly stretched forever. Crusted with moss, we guessed the fence was more than 100 years old. Probably used to keep cattle from wandering off.
It looked like the trail continued down the ridge to connect with another trail I do frequent, but we weren’t sure and didn’t feel like hiking down there only to find ourselves with another uphill trek.
What a surprising walking buddy! I never saw it coming, although I will have to be careful and let it unfold at Dale’s pace. Note to self … this does not mean we start training for the Camino. Still, over the weekend we’re going to check out the maps and see if we can figure out where the trail goes. Or maybe we’ll just go for it.
Sometimes surprises are right around the corner. And just when you think you know a person, they change. Change is good.
Time to retire work clothes?
We’ve talked about this before. Many of you have already dumped your work clothes, but I can’t quite make the leap.
Instead, I inventoried my professional attire, and I’m actually proud of what I put together to wear my last few years on the job. I hated the suity-suity look, but I managed to create a timeless wardrobe true to my personality and appropriate for my mostly business-casual work environment. I focused on seasonless fabrics in solid neutral colors so I could mix and match without buying more clothes than I needed.
Jackets were the greatest challenge after my mastectomy. Since I didn’t opt for reconstruction and am as flat as a 10-year-old boy, I found that anything with darts was a nonstarter. Dresses were also out. I favored skirts and pants with cropped baseball-style jackets in a variety of good quality fabrics.
It was not easy or cheap. I liked Brooks Brothers. The good news is everything still looks great and fits beautifully. I was like, damn, I did good! In retirement, I find those jackets in white, navy, khaki and black, are easy to wear with jeans and other casual looks.
Here’s what’s left of work attire that’s harder to re-purpose. Everything is tropical weight wool.
1 navy blue skirted suit
1 purplish tailored blazer
1 gray pencil skirt
1 gray skirt with pleats
1 pair black slacks
The next step was to take them to the dry cleaners. I haven’t been near a dry cleaner in years, so I actually had to hunt one down! If I donate or consign the clothes, at least they will be clean.
Here’s what I’m thinking. I only have one suit, which I saved for interviews, trips to Corporate, etc. It never hurts to have a classic dark suit in your closet. The slacks are perfect black pants, and I could see wearing them out and about with a t-shirt, denim jacket and boots. The blazer fits me perfectly, flat chest and all. Perhaps I could wear it with jeans or the black pants for a special occasion.
That leaves the two gray skirts. I love them both, and I felt so good putting them on and checking myself out in the mirror. It has been a long time since I’ve seen me in anything but workout clothes or jammies. Purging dress shoes was one of my first bold acts of retirement, so I Googled pencil skirts with Birkenstocks, and yes, such a thing exists.
Even if I can pull it off, where would I go dressed as such? The colder months would be easier, as I could always go with black tights and some sort of comfy shoe. All that to say I’m still on the fence about the skirts. Maybe I should get rid of them.
What do you think?
All-clear from the dermo
Now that I’m catching up on appointments, I visited the dermatologist for what I call the big naked look-see. I drew his attention to a couple of spots, which he identified as maturity. Everyone’s a comedian.
He said my skin looked great, whatever I’m doing, keep doing. I’m of Eastern European descent, and even after years of sun worshiping with baby oil and Bain de Soleil, I’ve fared quite well.
Still, as a BRCA-positive two-time cancer survivor, I take nothing for granted. I am outdoors a lot, mostly playing golf for more than four hours at a time. One of my golf buddies (one of the pink people) is out for a couple of weeks following the Mohs procedure for cancerous cells on his face.
Even with my darker skin, I have already had my lifetime quota of surgeries, so I take cover. I spray my legs with sunscreen and wear SPF 50 on my face with a large-brimmed hat. I have a UV-blocking umbrella and wear these shoulder wraps under my golf shirts.
While I do swim outdoors, I only swim for 30 minutes two or three times a week, so I don’t worry too much about it. If it got to be an issue, I could wear a UV-blocking rash guard.
All in all, retired life is still good, COVID and all. I do feel like we are at the beginning of the end of the pandemic. Maybe not, but that’s my story, and I’m sticking to it.
I’m starting to see some limitations to this new haircut. I mean, it’s cute, and I’m not ready to blow my brains out or anything like that, but this isn’t quite what I want for the long-term. Of course, one only learns such things after buying a plethora of hair products and tools one probably won’t use.
Actually, I may use them until my hair grows back a little. With a little work, I can sort of fix it the way it looked when I left the salon, but I don’t like putting forth the effort. What I do like is the shorter length, but now I can envision it just slightly longer minus the layers. It will be easy to grow out. It’s not like I had anything else to do.
It would seem one can only evaluate a haircut through magic of the rearview mirror.
toast shouldn’t be this hard
If you have a toaster you like, keep it as long as you can. Ours was on the fritz, and I spent the better part of last week researching options and reading reviews. Nobody, and I mean nobody, is totally happy with anything currently for sale.
Oh, sure, there’s my friend, Carole, who has a fancy dancy Dualit handmade in England, but even they get terrible reviews these days. And Dale said he would not pay that kind of money for a toaster that doesn’t pop up. The heat cycle turns off, but the toast rests quietly in place until you pop it up yourself.
Carole said she doesn’t need a toaster to think for her. Well, yippee for you, Carole. We of fewer brain cells absolutely need a toaster to think for us. While I believe other Dualit styles have a pop-up feature, some are made in China, and they get even worse reviews.
If it were simply a matter of planned obsolescence, I’d be fine. Just get a cheap one and replace as needed. If it were just a matter of money, I’d drop a wad if that’s all it takes to get good toast. But regardless of price, my in-depth research indicates toasters just don’t toast like they used to. One side only, burned edges, bread actually flying out of the toaster (the opposite of Dualit).
We sent one back that scorched one side and left the other side virtually untouched.
Even the venerable Cook’s Illustrated is “reviewing” their recommendation for the Breville long-slot toaster after so many readers wrote to complain that it’s awful.
We ended up with the Elite Gourmet long-slot toaster for $29.99. We had to turn it up to “dark” to get golden brown, and the edges are a wee bit toastier than we’d like, but overall, it’s fine. Wonder of wonders, you can toast a whole piece of oversized bread.
In our old toaster, I would toast it vertically by putting half down, toasting it, flipping it and then toasting the other half. Toward the end, depending on the bread, the toast shrinks enough to put it in horizontally for a photo finish.
This is more than I ever wanted to know about toasters. And it’s probably more than you want to know about toasters. Just keep whatever you have if it works. By the way, the classic Sunbeam toasters go for big bucks on eBay.
Apparently, back in the day, they knew how to make appliances that evenly brown and crisp bread. It is not advanced technology. Sadly, it would appear that time is gone. I could be convinced the Dualit Classic for a mere $240 might be good, despite the ridiculous price and negative reviews. Did I mention it’s handmade in England?
But there’s that pesky pop-up issue. For $29.99, our friendly little kitchen helper thinks for us. It’s a lifestyle choice.
As promised, here’s a picture of my new hair … my first professional cut in more than a year!
My stylist says this is collarbone length. My hair is fine, so we always go blunt, but this time she added just a few long blunt layers for shape and movement.
Although this style is a good bit shorter than usual, it’s still quite versatile. I can wear it up, air dry or blow dry as the mood strikes me. It looks good under a hat. Everything can be tucked behind the ears if desired. And if the pandemic gets worse, and I can’t get to a salon, it’s easy to grow out.
Being shampooed was the most divine feeling ever. I should train Dale to do that.
Anyway, I like it a lot! Because it has been such a long terrible year, she missed out on a lot of business and yet responded enthusiastically to every crazy text I sent her with questions about my hair, I did not add the typical 20 percent gratuity.
Instead, I handed her a $100 bill. I thought she was going to cry. I did.
I have an appointment in a couple of weeks to get my first professional haircut in over a year, and I can’t tell you how many hours I have squandered surfing the Internet in search of the perfect hairstyle. Bobs, lobs, bangs and pixies. Gray hair. Glasses. The struggle is real.
I’ve enjoyed low maintenance hair for several years now. I was ready for retirement, and I was ready for the pandemic or at least my hair was. My hair is fine in texture with a little bit of wave in it. No layers, no dye. I don’t use heat or special products. If it doesn’t look good on any given day, I wear it up.
It seems over the past year I’ve lost more hair than usual, although it appears to be growing back. My hair is a little thinner at the temples, so I’ve been experimenting with a middle part. I like it.
Just as I thought I was ready for a big shift, my hair started cooperating, and now I’m not so sure I want to change it at all. Interestingly enough, I get more hits on my signature scrunchie man bun than any other post on this blog. I re-read that post yesterday, and all the comments I made about my low-maintenance approach still resonate with me.
The top candidate for something different is a neck-length bob with maybe some-face framing layers or long bangs, but I’m pretty sure that style requires more frequent haircuts, styling products and a blow dryer. While I think it would look very attractive on me, I do not want to stand in front of the mirror every day blowing my hair to smooth perfection.
I like the French girl look – long and untamed – although I guess I’m too old to pull off anything with the word “girl” in it. Plus, those French girls all have bangs but don’t wear glasses. I could see keeping it long and getting some sort of funky bang, but again, that’s extra maintenance and then there’s the glasses problem.
With all this doubt, I’m inclined to skip the transformation and just get the ends trimmed up neatly. I could probably coax more wave with some sort of product, but that’s a slippery slope. When all is said and done, my hair seems to look best if I leave it alone.
Of course, that means I don’t have a “style” per se. Most of the time I’m OK with that, but then I see these makeovers of women in their 50s and 60s, and there’s something to be said for a cute haircut. They look great! It’s easy to get sucked in, except you have to imagine all the work that went into making them look that good.
It’s hard to decide. Do you think it’s worth the trouble to maintain a so-called “modern” haircut, or are you more inclined to take a simpler approach? Does hair need a style, or is it just more beauty hype?
While I didn’t watch the inauguration, I read all about it afterward. I loved everything from the inaugural address and the music to the poetry and shed tears of joy and relief. I am filled with hope for our country. President Biden’s remarks made me want to be a better person.
But the inauguration was also the motivation I needed to get dressed.
Yes, in the midst of this most profound moment in our history, I found myself searching the internet for photos of the spectacular outfits. Well, the coats! The colors, the cuts. There was a time when I cared about fashion, but that seems like forever ago.
As the comedian Seth Meyers said, “So that’s what it feels like when you’re not grinding your teeth. I forgot, and I think – yeah, I can see colors again.”
Or as I might say, so that’s what it feels like when you’re not worrying about who has the nuclear codes. There’s room for lighthearted fare. On the fashion front, my favorite was Kamala’s camel coat. Even though there were brighter choices to admire, she had me at pleats.
I’ve mostly lived in warmer climates, so coats were not usually a fashion statement. I’d buy one multi-purpose coat and make do. Usually a neutral color. My favorite was a flowy coat I bought in Germany made with layers of olive cotton and corduroy. I actually have no idea how much it cost. I just knew I had enough Deutsche Marks in my wallet to buy it!
My go-to warm coat these days is a long black duster with a button-in lining that I bought years ago at Burlington Coat Factory. At one time I wanted a Burberry trench, but I could never find the single-breasted style I liked. I used to keep a picture of Jackie O’s as a reference.
Instead, I purchased a real Mackintosh raincoat that should last forever. Navy. Single-breasted. Simple and beautiful, but not quite as versatile as a trench.
Although I don’t need a dressy coat these days, I wear light jackets for casual outings and sports, or at least I did when there was such a thing as casual outings. Khaki, black, white or navy. My avoidance of bright colors goes back to my childhood of never having enough money. If you could only have one, you didn’t blow it on yellow.
It has been nearly a year since I’ve worn anything more than what is required for groceries or exercise … leggings with pockets. Not even jeans. My hair gets mostly tied into a man-bun or topped with a hat.
As for the new administration, there will be missteps and disagreements, but knowing compassionate adults are in charge changes everything. I’m hopeful we can get to work on the tough issues our country faces, but at the same time, I feel lighter. Freer. Like I want to put on some real clothes and go somewhere. Maybe even fix my hair or buy something purpleyellow camel.
My hair is driving me nuts, and my cuticles are super-glued to my nails. My toes literally shredded the bottom of the bedsheet. I won’t even talk about my skin of many zits, but when this business is over, I’m going for some sort of deluxe spa treatment. Or maybe I could just run myself through Super Suds at the car wash.
Yes! Better than the Wheel Deal, better than the Ultimate and maybe even an overnight stay for detailing.
I want to walk out clean and shiny with all the dings repaired. Beauty base zero.
Although my hair looks good, my scalp itches, and I find hairs all over the house. I wonder if I am losing abnormal amounts of hair. Or is it breaking? I have dreams it drops off in clumps.
I would love to get an assessment from my stylist, but that is not within the art of the possible at this time. And so, I turn to poor, beleaguered Dale.
Would you look at my scalp and see if anything is going on?
Like what?
I don’t know. Redness. Scabs. Lice.
Sure.
We get under a light, and he pokes around for a while. Then he said, “Your hair is too dense. I can hardly see your scalp.”
Seriously, that is like dirty sex talk.
Oh, me of fairy hair? Dense? According to Dale, my hair is fine, but there seems to be plenty of it. What he could see of my scalp looked pink and healthy. In a miraculous display of the mind-body connection, my scalp stopped itching.
I don’t want to complain about staff at our home spa, but they can barely keep up. Praying the professionals arrive soon.
Public Service Announcement
I feel kind of bad I didn’t let you know this sooner. I mean, we’re almost a year into the lockdown, right? But it’s time you know the truth about public restrooms.
Yes, they’re mostly filthy, but there are unique moments in life when you won’t care.
You. Will. Not. Care.
Due to the pandemic, many of them will be closed when you need them the most.
For example, let’s imagine you are on the way to the golf course and have an unexpected bathroom emergency. You know from past experience the convenience store on the left won’t let you use theirs. Good thing Taco Bell is right next door! McDonalds is a few blocks further, but sometimes that is a block too far.
Let us imagine you walk up to the Taco Bell, which appears open, but the doors are locked. And you might imagine yourself pounding on the glass like Dustin Hoffman in The Graduate, “Elaine! Elaine!”
And in this totally fictitious situation, it would seem the drive-thru is indeed open, but because of the pesky pandemic, you can’t go inside. Literally.
This could get ugly fast, so in the interest of public service, I wanted to let you know many of the restrooms you formerly used while out and about may not be available to you during these unprecedented times.
Sure, you could always go to an empty church parking lot and stuff tissues down your pants, but this is only a temporary solution.
Taco Bell is dead to you, and you can’t always count on the Les Schwab Tire Center across the street to let you use theirs. But when some saint of a woman at the desk says sure, you will be forever indebted.
It has been a suck-ass year, but I’m still happy to be retired. I always said I could deal with the stress of a job better than I could deal with the stress of living paycheck-to-paycheck or with no paycheck at all. Not having enough money was a huge family dynamic in my childhood, so I’m sure that’s one of the reasons I hung in there even through some miserable job experiences.
Early on I believed all that crap about finding your passion … which I simply could not find at work. Then I read a book that said don’t worry about passion. The key is to be really good at what you do and always go for the most money if it’s ethical, moral, legal, etc.
Worked for me. I quit expecting a job to make me happy and just tried to do the absolute best job possible so they would value my contributions and pay me more. Although that didn’t add up to early retirement for me, I was 62 and call it earlyish.
I’m glad I don’t have job worries on top of everything else during this pandemic. My neighbor is a widow with three children. She has been working from home but was asked to come in for a meeting where no one wears masks. After a sleepless night of worry, she said no. She still has her job, so there!
My neighbor has a big fat skunk stripe on top of her head – letting the gray grow in as we avoid salons, which are about to close again anyway. She said she was inspired by my hair. I think she’s in her 50s, about the same age I was when I accepted my hair fate.
Although I was pleased with the compliment, it was undeserved, since my hair has been looking so dreadful lately. My hair is fine and looks pretty bad when it gets too long. And it was way overgrown, but I was afraid to cut off more than just the ends.
This week I manned up and went for it. Using the signature pigtail technique, I cut nearly two inches off. It looked great from the front, but it was crooked in the back. I asked Dale if he would feel comfortable trying to even it up, and he said yes.
I have to confess, it was scary. But he did a fantastic job. Not perfect but perfect enough for me. Seriously, I feel like a new person. Now I’m thinking I may never go back to the salon. Of course, Dale, ever the tool nerd, said if he’s going to do it again, he’ll need better scissors. Maybe Santa will bring him some.
I wish I could get him to do my toes.
In other news:
Although I have absolutely no interest in chess, I watched The Queen’s Gambit and loved it!
The turkey has been consumed or frozen. All in all, we had cold turkey sandwiches, hot turkey sandwiches, turkey enchiladas, turkey soup and miniature turkey pot pies. I made three mini-pies and froze them.
As for the enchiladas, I make tortillas all the time, but I have never used homemade tortillas in enchiladas. Not much else going on, so I said, why not? Fantastic. There’s no turning back. The taste and texture of the homemade tortillas is worth the trouble.
My favorite quote of the week is an older one attributed to playwright Richard Greenberg:
Money doesn’t buy you happiness, but it does upgrade despair.
Preparing to snip off the ends of my hair using the patented pigtail technique.
I started to get in a funk this week. The pandemic. Trump. Just the weight of it all taking a toll, and I say that as someone who has it pretty damn easy. Do you suppose there’s a sleeping pill I can take tonight and wake up Jan. 20?
My remedy was to make another donation to the food bank and just get on with life. The whole simple pleasures thing. One good laugh, and I’m OK. Thankfully, Dale delivered.
He came back from a run and said there was a pizza box by someone’s trash with leftover pizza hanging out the side. He said it was kind of gross smashed up on the street and missing a couple of bites, but then he added, “You know, it still looked good.”
I don’t know. I find it highly amusing to think pizza still looks good even when it’s essentially road kill. Fortunately, I have a personal pizza chef. Tonight’s is what we call Punishment Pizza. Shrimp, goat cheese, Kalamata olives, basil and habanero peppers.
Other highlights from the week:
Finished watching River on Amazon Prime. Wow. Part moody cop drama and part otherworldly romance. Oh, and there’s an old disco song you will never get out of your brain. I’ve re-watched the last episode several times just for the dance scene with Stellan Skarsgård and Nicola Walker.
Validated my hypothesis that pumpkin cheesecake is good for breakfast. And then I tested it again just to be sure.
Splurged on another pair of “yoga” pants. At 65, I need some structure. My favorites are the Headlands Hybrid Cargo Tight from Athleta. At $108, they are not cheap, but these pants are durable, comfortable, versatile and flattering.
For a brief moment, I missed the feeling of being good at my job. Then I remembered the executive who had a temper tantrum when the company began to promote work-life balance. He said work was life and didn’t require balance. I realized I’m actually pretty good at retirement.
Decided to hoard my woodburning art creations as some sort of primitive documentation that I was here. Like etchings from the pandemic cave.
Cut my hair using the patented pigtail technique. I don’t think I’m losing abnormal amounts of hair, but I cleaned the bathroom today, and it’s like King Kong shaved in there. I have entertained the idea of buzzing it all off.
