Category: Health & Wellness

Can fashion motivate you to exercise?

I’ve written before about what a struggle it is to find a swimsuit. I know everyone, and I mean everyone, has something that makes finding a decent swimsuit difficult. As for me, I have a long torso and am flat following breast cancer and a mastectomy without reconstruction. I’ve never worn a prosthesis, and they say the swimming version is particularly awful.

One would think racing-style suits would work for someone like me, since most of them don’t have bras. But then there’s that long body thing. Racing suits seem to be made for short-waisted people. I tried on a bunch at Dick’s Sporting Goods, and none of them worked. I went to Big 5 at the suggestion of a reader, and they had closed their fitting rooms due to the pandemic.

Well, I returned to Big 5, and the fitting rooms were open this time. I kept sizing up until I found the sweet spot. I discovered Nike swimsuits were cut larger, but by the time I got them to fit my butt and my torso, they were too big in the chest.

Speedo and TYR are cut smaller, so I had to go up several sizes – a 38, which is equivalent to an American size 12. Kind of shocked me, but they fit! I ended up buying three. It was like Christmas in July.

How come I didn’t figure this out sooner? Probably because I convinced myself I couldn’t possibly be a size 12. Another lesson in the perils of vanity sizing.

I’m sure I will regret this, but I have included a picture of me trying it on AGAIN at home, just to be sure. All three were keepers.

More and more women are choosing to go flat after a mastectomy, and I know it’s a difficult decision. Is it weird? Will you look like a freak? I hope this visual evidence helps those who might be weighing this important decision. Being breastless is not the end of the world. At least we don’t have to worry about gravity taking over!

Swimming laps in a suit like a “real” swimmer has motivated me to swim more. I’ve always been the type who mindlessly swims lap after lap, but now I’ve started interval training, some long and slow laps and some sprints – and it’s super-fun. Definitely breaks up the boredom, and getting my heart rate up releases endorphins I can’t seem to get from walking or golf, the anti-endorphin.

It just took a little something extra to push me out of my comfort zone. I suppose it’s kind of embarrassing to think a simple change of clothes could motivate me to exercise, but then I remembered the confidence I felt when I looked good at work. Maybe it’s the same in retirement.

Dress for success!

Yes, it’s fashion, but it’s also about form and function.

This sudden burst of energy has also made me re-think how I dress for other activities. Maybe it’s just me, but even a casual walk feels better when you make an effort to look like you mean it. I see a lot of cyclists with fancy outfits, most of them are men, and I can’t help but think having a sports “uniform” motivates them as well.

Do you make a special effort to dress for your sport or outdoor activity? Does it help motivate you to exercise?

Congress or Guy Fieri?

Number 28

Dale and I debated whether we should watch the Jan. 6 hearings on TV. We agreed it was our civic duty, but we also agreed we’d switch back to the Food Network the minute one of us got disgusted. Not that we haven’t already overdosed on Guy Fieri, but he’s typically more palatable than Congress.

Winner, winner. Insurrection dinner.

Bottom line. We were riveted. My beer got warm, and that’s saying something. We rushed to assemble dinner during the 10-minute break. Dale was furiously chopping cilantro for the fresh Pico de Gallo that would accompany our carnitas tacos, and I thought, oh no, he’s going to cut himself.

“It’s back on! It’s back on!” I hollered to Dale, who stayed steady with the knife but was sweating like he was a finalist on Guy’s Grocery Games. I set up the TV trays, and we were back in our seats in time to watch the second hour. I did not leave my chair, not even to get another beer.  

Now I’m kind of wishing we could download the whole season and binge watch it this weekend.

Postscript: I failed to mention the footage was also heartbreaking, and we look forward to the day when the former guy is held accountable for his actions.

My annual physical was this week. We talked about Covid. I said we were recluses the first two years, but now we are venturing out. I’m assuming we will get it. I was thinking about Paxlovid, the antiviral pill and wondering if I would need it.

She didn’t think so. My immune system has mostly likely recovered from two bouts of cancer. I’m 66, and she said that’s still in the lower end of the age-related risk. I have high blood pressure, but that’s it. Still, because of my cancer history and the unknowns related to that, we agreed I would call for the pills if I should happen to test positive. She agreed with our plans to venture out and said we can’t live in a bubble forever.

I told the doctor I liked the neurosurgeon she referred me to for my back, even though I told him the only reason I kept the appointment was in case the shit hit the fan and I needed an existing patient relationship with a neurosurgeon. Not a good situation to be in, but I like to plan ahead.

He got my vibe, and we agreed surgery bad, exercise good. Keep doing what I’m doing.

My only beef was in the post-visit summary, there was a line about advising the patient to lose weight. At 5’7” and hovering just above 130 pounds, I figured it was a pre-populated form, and he didn’t bother to customize it. I was miffed.

She agreed and said normally the doctor double checks the form to ensure the parts that aren’t relevant are deleted. Then she told me a funny story.

One of her patients was having problems with his testicles. She examined him and found nothing unusual. Using her customary medical jargon, she wrote, “Testicles unremarkable.” But she didn’t delete it from the summary patients receive, and apparently, he was more than a bit upset to read that.

Anyway, so far, so good on the annual physical. For some reason, my cholesterol was the best it has been in years. I haven’t made any big dietary changes. The only thing I can think of is that I’ve been eating a lot of nuts. On the golf course, I snack on a mix of walnuts, almonds and dried cranberries.   

Speaking of golf and nuts, I played with a someone this week who might be certifiable. Some seriously crazy stuff coming out of her mouth. I decided to pretend she was my dear eccentric friend and that it was all very amusing. It was actually all very annoying, but my pretense worked! I did not get upset or blow my game, and I found myself warming up to her.

Could this be a new life strategy?

The second booster

It’s hard to believe we’ve been married 43 years, and we approach nearly everything from a completely different perspective. I sometimes wonder how we lasted this long when we are such opposites.

I know, I know. Opposites attract. For the most part, we’ve learned not to argue about our differences, so at least it’s not opposites attack. But it is sometimes exhausting to hear each other out. The latest point of contention is the second Covid booster.

I’ll start first. Of course, I will.

Our numbers are looking really good right now. My state is currently at 5 cases per 100,000 population, and my county is at 3.9 cases per 100,000. One of my golf buddies said you can’t believe the numbers because people are testing at home and not reporting it. Probably, but all signs indicate the risk is much lower than it has been for quite some time.

I am inclined to wait until the numbers start rising again before I get the second booster. I liken it to the flu shot – you don’t want to get it too early in the season so you’ll still have some immunity during the peak. I’ve also read they are trying to tweak the vaccine to be most effective against specific variants, so waiting until that variant is somewhat more prevalent might be the prudent thing to do. Kind of like the flu shot targeting a specific strain.

Dale, on the other hand, says get the booster now. Why wait and put yourself at unnecessary risk? He wants to be all juiced up if and when another wave hits. If the effectiveness of the second booster wanes before the things get bad again, he figures they’ll authorize another booster. As he sees it, we’re probably going to need a booster every six months for the foreseeable future.

I’m wondering if his military background might have a role in this. Be ready no matter what. Don’t wait until the shit hits the fan. But I see his point. If we’re going to get a booster twice a year anyway, why not just go ahead and get the shot now?

If all else fails and I’m somehow caught between boosters, I can always hunker down. It’s a new skillset I picked up a couple of years ago.

What are your thoughts about the second booster?  

Retirement jobs

Galettes Complètes

I’ve read lots of retirees get a job because they miss their old identity, they’re bored or need the money. Have you thought about going back to work? Once I accepted that I’m quite fine with being a nobody, I found myself grateful to be holding steady with my current portfolio of retirement jobs.

Retirement job #1:

Cooking. I’m continuing to work my way through The Savory Baker. This week’s masterpiece was Galettes Complètes, buckwheat crepes stuffed with ham, egg and Gruyère cheese. I said if these turned out to be any good, I would buy a real crepe pan.

We had them for breakfast today, and it seems I have some shopping to do! I made the crepes yesterday and had everything ready to go this morning. Although my presentation was slightly off (they are supposed to be squares), the crepes were absolutely delicious. I had a hard time getting the folds to stay flat and used toothpicks.

The cookbook is from the folks at Cook’s Illustrated, but I’ve also saved a New York Times recipe for future consideration.

Retirement job #2

Exercising. I like to stay active because it’s fun and keeps my body in decent shape, but also because it means I can continue to eat well. As a person who struggled with weight earlier in life and tried all the crazy diets on the planet, it sure is nice to not worry about every little bite that goes in my mouth. My Fitbit says I burn about 2,000 calories a day.

Retirement job #3

Travel. I’ve started planning some trips! We traveled a lot when we were younger and don’t have a big wanderlust, but we can certainly improve on our current record, which is approaching zero. Admittedly, I took it kind of easy throughout our two-year staycation.

With Covid seemingly on the decline, we were thinking, let’s get through March and then start scooting around California. Lots to see and do here, and we won’t have to suffer the indignities of air travel.

In other Covid-related news, Dale and I have at least temporarily stopped wearing masks at the grocery store. Such adventurers we are.

Retirement job #4

Chores. Taking care of the house is a job I share with Peter Pan my husband, who has to be reminded from time to time he is a homeowner with responsibilities. I mean, neither one of us is excited about it, but this is real grown-up stuff.

Our water usage went up, and it turned out to be a leak in the skimmer of the pool. That got fixed last week. Next is trying to replace two segments of fence and a gate. We got a proposal, which looked good to us, but I had to float it by our neighbor, who shares one of the fence segments with us. Her portion would be about $600, and she squawked.

I’m super-annoyed, but I’m trying to be patient and understanding. She claims to have some guy who can do it cheaper, but that’s what she told me a year and a half ago. I want to get this ball rolling, as I am eager to outsource the yardwork and figured it would be easier once the fence is done.

My sciatica is almost non-existent at this point, yay, and I’ve decided yard work and its potential for added stress on my back is one variable I don’t want to mess with. Time to throw some money at it.

While I have several other retirement jobs, including art, I feel busy but not too busy, and aside from world events outside of my control, life is good. Way better than working, that’s for sure. I don’t read much of the serious news. I asked Dale to let me know if we get nuked so I can say goodbye.

Speaking of goodbyes, I had to delete the Wordle link from my phone. I’d wake up at 1:30 a.m. and think, I could go back to sleep or I could play Wordle. I’m all about bad choices and found myself playing in the wee hours of the morning. It’s still available through the New York Times, but my new rule is I have to be up and sitting at my computer to play.

Finally, last week marked 23 years since I was diagnosed with stage 3 primary peritoneal cancer, which is virtually the same as ovarian. Although most people seem to think ovarian cancer is a death sentence, I have been disease-free since my initial treatment. I did get breast cancer later, but the only relationship is that both cancers were caused by the BRCA mutation.

By the way, no one else in my extended family has had either ovarian or breast cancer, so testing positive for the BRCA mutation was a shocker. My oncologist believes I inherited it from my father.

Here’s to hoping March comes out like a lamb.

Crazy old lady plogger

One of my regular walking routes passes by three schools – elementary, middle and high school. I try to avoid walking when the students are out and about, not that it isn’t entertaining. The fashion show alone is worth the price of admission. All I can think is, my mother would have killed me.

Anyway, I woke up from my customary daze one day and realized there was a lot of trash along the route. It occurred to me I could pick it up, with proper outfitting, of course. At first, I was like, ick, why should I clean up after the little bastards? But then my higher self emerged, and I started thinking about supplies.

Picking up litter while exercising is sometimes called plogging, an activity that started in Sweden. Sometimes people wear rubber gloves and pick up trash with their hands. It has been said bending and stooping is good for you, but I can assure you, it is not good for me.

I purchased grabbers on Amazon for $13.99. The first time I went out, I took a plastic trash bag, but it was awkward to hold and difficult to keep open wide for depositing the litter. An Internet search led me to Bigmouth Bagger, which features an over-the-shoulder litter bag holder made by a retiree in Virginia. Cost was $37.05. Free shipping, and it came quickly.

Other accessories include:

Aside from looking stylish, I very much enjoy plogging and am happy to do something positive for my community. So far, I’ve been sticking to the paved trails. I see trash in the median, which is gnarly, but I seem to fill up a bag just fine without going down in there.

There may come a day when I’d do the ditch, but I’d need backup to watch for traffic, snakes, etc. And certainly bullet-proof pants. Not my fancy Athleta tights. Then again, I may never go in there.

I carry a 13-gallon bag, which is mostly full when I’m done. The new rig from Bigmouth Bagger makes it easy and comfortable. Totally worth the money.

There are some items I just won’t mess with. Bottles with visible amounts of liquid in them. I can’t really tell if the lid is sealed, and I don’t want to deal with the potential mess. Anything big, heavy or sloppy will have to wait for a more stalwart plogger.

Music makes the time pass quickly. I’ve also made some new friends who stop to thank me or express an interest in plogging as well. Litter sucks, and people seem to appreciate efforts to clean it up.

What do you suppose is the number one litter of choice?

You guessed it. Masks. Miscellaneous plastic, odd bits of paper and Styrofoam, candy wrappers and empty plastic bottles round out the list.

Just so you know, the grabber is multi-purpose. I use it to wave back at people and more importantly, to spin it around in time to the music. That might be why they call me the crazy old lady plogger.

You don’t think they really call me that, do you?

Go with the flow

When I look back at my working life, I usually reflect on the negatives. I’m not purposefully a glass half-full kind of person, but it does seem that’s my default. Lately, I’ve been thinking about the positives, and there were a few surprises.

I was reading a golf psychology book, as I am wont to do, and there was a reference to the old nursery rhyme:

Row, row, row your boat

Gently down the stream

Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily

Life is but a dream

I’m not the first to realize this could be a beautifully simple guide to happiness. As I reflected on the meaning behind these lyrics, it occurred to me I sometimes row hard in the other direction because that’s the way I want to go, damn it.

But wait! Is there a benefit to rowing with the current? Going with the flow? Imagine.

Here’s where we come back to my work experience. I was stuck in a nice but dead-end job and couldn’t seem to find a way out. When I wasn’t working, I spent all my time on the job search. I had a few memorable interviews but no offers.

Only one person at work knew I was on the hunt. I actually didn’t know her well but somehow decided she was the one to trust. That’s a little telling, isn’t it?

Anyway, one day I whined I couldn’t get a job. She said, “That’s because it wasn’t your job. When it’s your job, the doors will open.”

Indeed. After interviewing for a job in Minnesota because by that time I would go anywhere, the hiring manager called to tell me I didn’t get it, but they thought I would be a good fit for their company. He offered to shop my resume around, and that led to an interview in Texas.

When they offered me the job, Dale and I stopped to think it through. What if it didn’t come with relocation? The next day they emailed me a document outlining the relo assistance, and it was amazing. Then Dale said, what about my job? Within days, he was laid off and got a nice exit package. And that’s how it all rolled out.

I went from a local utility in South Carolina to a large multinational Fortune 100 company, and while I was quite competent in my field, this was the big show. Easier for some than others. Having been raised by wolves, I had limited social acumen and not a lot of workplace savvy.

But I needed this job, and I was hellbent on figuring it all out. In addition to some great mentoring, the company offered lots of training, especially on the soft skills such as ethics, diversity and interpersonal communications, and I absorbed all of it.

Yes, some might say it was all about being politically correct, but at least we weren’t punching out flight attendants. I have developed new appreciation for having both feet planted solidly on the high ground. Only recently did it occur to me some of those nuances of behavior I learned at work are worth preserving in retirement.

Kind of like the monster’s transformation in Young Frankenstein, it turns out I liked having a calmer brain and a more sophisticated way of expressing myself. Communicating to make someone else more comfortable. Listening rather than telling. Remembering to say and instead of but. You do it enough, and you sort of become the person you were trying to be.

Even though I’ve previously harbored resentment over some of my work experiences, I can now see how the flow took me to a place where I could explore this better version my myself. The wolves had their charms but didn’t exactly give us a good head start.

That’s what I’ve been up to lately. Still learning. Sciatica is nearly gone. I’m walking a lot, playing golf and swimming. Lots of deep breathing – in through the nose, out through the mouth. I’m as surprised as anyone I could spend quality blogging time on all this touchy-feely stuff, but pain changes you.

And strangely enough, it’s not all bad if you go with the flow.

My first walking playlist

My favorite advice columnist these days is Carolyn Hax, who writes for the Washington Post. She’s not a therapist, but her responses are so intelligent and so insightful, I’d pay for some couch time with this journalist.

In a recent column, she urged a writer to respond to another person’s nasty comment with her honest feelings … something along the lines of, “What an unkind thing to say.” She said don’t let anything stand unchallenged. Invite difficult people out into the open.

Carolyn ends the column with this: “The truth is your power. Remaining calm is your superpower.”

Indeed!

After a shaky start earlier in my career, I became quite good at keeping things bottled up at work, where we used to say only the whale that surfaces gets harpooned. Or never complain, never explain. While I did speak up and was good at keeping calm in a crisis, figuring out what to say and when to say it was practically a full-time job.

Carefully choreographed restraint was useful in the workplace, but it’s not particularly helpful for the rest of our lives, when theoretically we are free to let it all hang out. But as it turns out, managing interpersonal communication is a key life skill we need more than ever in retirement.

I say that because I believe the default is to make us invisible. Have you noticed that? No longer young and jobby, sometimes it feels like no one sees or hears us anymore. At first, I was like, fine. Who cares? I’ll just keep a low profile and go about my merry way.

It worked for a while, but eventually it takes a toll. As I’ve written in previous posts, I believe my sciatica is at least partially exacerbated by repressed emotions. At first, I thought it was the big stuff, childhood drama and all that, but now I think it’s everyday communication or lack thereof.

In my last post, I wrote about my experience on the golf course, where I finally said in a very kind and truthful way how I felt about some behaviors I found unsettling. I feel great! Carolyn is right about owning your truth and staying calm.

It’s an art form. I’ve been practicing, asking more questions and being less judgmental yet stating quite clearly where I stand. As my communication skills improve, so does my back. Pain is complicated, and I understand not everyone will have the same experience, but it seems like it’s working for me. Perhaps there’s a nugget or two in this continuing saga that might help you.

My first Walking Playlist

I’m loving Spotify and have been goofing around with playlists. Yesterday, I walked for an hour to this playlist, and it was so much fun I couldn’t not share it. I didn’t use beats per minute or anything professional like that, so my advice is to keep your normal pace and not let the music drive you to do more than you safely can.

Walking is not required. Think of it as an eclectic collection of music that brings a smile to your face and makes you want to move. Maybe a little sing-a-long if you are so inclined. Below are the songs if you use a different streaming service. For an hour’s walk, I turn around somewhere in the middle of La Bamba.

  • Billie Jean – Michael Jackson
  • Yes Sir, I Can Boogie – Baccara
  • Streets of Bakersfield – Dwight Yoakam
  • Shake Your Hips – Joan Osborne
  • Everyday People – Sly & The Family Stone
  • The Holy Grail – John Fogerty
  • Bear Cat – Rufus Thomas
  • London Calling – The Clash
  • Dumas Walker – The Kentucky Headhunters
  • La Bamba – Flaco Jimenez & Steve Jordan
  • Refugee – Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers
  • All The Lilacs in Ohio – John Hiatt & The Jerry Douglas Band
  • Stayin’ Alive – Bee Gees
  • Is Anybody Goin’ to San Antone – Texas Tornados
  • I Love to Love – Tina Charles
  • Highway 61 Revisited – Bob Dylan
  • Papa Was a Rollin’ Stone – The Band of Heathens & Ray Wylie Hubbard

Catching up to technology

I’ve surrendered to the privacy pirates and am enthralled with my new technology toys for music. I signed up for Spotify, paying for premium at $9.99 a month. The choice of music is amazing, and it’s fun to find old tunes you know and love as well as new stuff you’d like to explore but don’t want to buy.

Amazon is another excellent choice, but I tried Spotify first and decided to stick with it.

Next were wireless earbuds. I went with Carole’s recommendation of Samsung Galaxy Buds Live, and they’re great. I accidentally ordered the version bundled with a wireless charger pad. Although I planned to return the wireless charger, I’m sold! I just put the buds in their case and set that on the pad, and the fiesta begins. I can also use the pad to charge my cell phone.

All in all, it would seem I’ve at least partially caught up to this era. My tights from Athleta arrived, and they fit well and are quite stylish. Newly outfitted, I do feel more with it and am even more inspired to walk.

More on the Mind-body connection

My sciatica has improved, although it’s definitely not gone. Even after all the discussion we had here about some of the reservations we share regarding the mind-body connection, I still think it’s worth digging into my emotions to see if any negativity is contributing my physical problems. While I know this doesn’t apply to everyone, I have a history of stress-related illness.

As I said earlier, I’ve dealt with all my family drama, but this week I realized I still have some baggage from work.

Although I had a fine run, I was treated rather badly the last couple of years on the job. It’s a long story, but to extend my career with the company, I was pretty much forced to take a job working for a high-level bully and screamer. Everyone knew, but he delivered results, so they looked the other way.  

There’s more to the story than just him, and it would take another 10 pages to explain how it all went down. I try to think, oh, it was OK, but really, it wasn’t. I was well-compensated, and in the end, I came out way better off financially. The money definitely made retirement possible, but the whole thing still makes me angry.

I took to my journal and wrote all about it. I won’t frighten you with the inner workings of my mind, but putting my deepest feelings on paper helped me understand the role these emotions have on my every day life.

One thing I decided was to reframe how I experience golf. It might not seem like golf could be connected to work. I suspect some of you may be struggling with the same issue. We were so accustomed to performing for the king, that we feel we have to prove ourselves in some other way after we retire.  Whatever it is that drives us, we’d better be good at it.

For me, that was golf. I’ve been playing poorly, but I decided it didn’t matter. I am going to just focus on enjoying the challenges and pleasures of the game. I signed up for this week’s league play with the women.

It was chilly when we started about 9 a.m. but warmed up quickly and was turning into a beautiful day. I was playing OK. Not as well as I normally play, but I was fine and actually enjoying myself. As we walked off the 9th hole, our new leader was standing by with her timer and said we were 10 minutes behind schedule. I kind of wondered if it would come to this, as she sent sort of a snarky note in advance warning us about pace of play.

Much to my surprise, I said in a very calm and kind voice, “I’m done.” Then I explained that I really like her, she is one of my favorite people in the club and I don’t hold this against her in any way, but I have decided that golf under those conditions does not work for me personally. We’re supposed to be having fun out here, and we weren’t slowing anyone down. I added that I play all the time out there with men, and no one ever fucks with them about pace of play.

And then I walked away.

Later, I sent a note to one of my playing partners apologizing for the abrupt departure. She understood, and said they had to wait on the group in front of them on number 10. They took a picture of themselves waiting and texted it to the leader with a note, “So much for 10 minutes.”

Ha! I liked their style and felt a little bad I didn’t hang in there. On the other hand, I believe I did what I needed to do. If you’ve been reading this blog for a bit, you may recall this is not the first time I’ve addressed this achievement fixation and how it impacts life. Not to mention golf! It’s a tricky balance, but I think I’m getting closer to the sweet spot.

Leftover chicken

And that leaves me to chicken. We love roasted chicken and always freeze the carcass to make stock. Dale pulled off all the meat yesterday, so I made a list of food we make with leftovers:

  • Chicken enchiladas
  • Chicken tacos
  • Chicken Divan
  • Chicken Tortilla Soup
  • Chicken in Phyllo with Hazelnuts and Feta
  • Chicken Tetrazzini
  • Chicken Curry with Coconut Milk and Spinach
  • Mini Chicken Pot Pies
  • Chicken Quesadillas

Dale got to vote, and the winner is Mini Chicken Pot Pies. I make three. We split one and freeze the other two. For some bizarre reason, we like chicken pies with French fries. And a salad. We don’t always eat like 10-year-old boys.

I’d better get going. I like to make everything ahead of time and refrigerate until it’s time to cook.

Walking inspiration

My sciatica seems to be calming down, and I’m beginning to feel almost normal. I haven’t played golf due to the weather, but I’m continuing to walk. I wanted inspiration … something to think about besides every little muscle or nerve twitch, so I dug out my ancient iPod and charged it up.

I stopped using the iPod during my days as the self-appointed Safety Scout. For some reason, I was trying to reduce risk in my life, and wearing headphones on a walk seemed fraught with peril. That was back when E. coli was the worst thing you could drag home from the grocery store, and Omicron was just a letter of the Greek alphabet.

We’ve had a couple of years to rethink risk. I’ve concluded wearing headphones on a walk isn’t the scariest thing out there. I made some walking playlists years ago, and lo and behold, they’re still on the device and working properly. It was fun to walk and listen to some of my favorite music. I may even branch out to audio books and podcasts.

A sampler from the playlist:

  • Tweedle Dee & Tweedle Dum – Bob Dylan
  • Big Ball in Cowtown – Bob Wills
  • Train of Love – Doc Watson
  • Refugee – Tom Petty & the Heartbreakers
  • Beer Run – Todd Snider
  • Jobel-Liebe – Margret Almer
  • Rehab – Amy Winehouse
  • Waitress in the Sky – the Replacements
  • Love Shack – the B-52s
  • Used to be a Cop – Drive-by Truckers

All dated but still great as far as I’m concerned. Margret Almer is a yodeler. I love a good yodel.

I honestly can’t remember how old the iPod is. Maybe circa 2006? I’ll keep using it until it doesn’t work anymore, although I suppose I should have a backup plan in place. Your recommendations are most welcome.

There will be a bit of a learning curve, as I haven’t downloaded music in years. I’m not even sure I know how anymore. Do you still go to Apple? But updating my portable music tools and adding some new tunes might be a good little activity for me.

Also in the spirit of cheering one’s self up, I decided I would walk better in the cold if I looked cuter. Today I wore leggings, a fleece top and a puffy vest … as opposed to baggy track pants with long underwear for extra padding. A black and gray knit beanie kept my ears toasty.

I’ve decided I need a more colorful beanie. I also decided I need another pair of leggings. I ordered these from Athleta. They’re a little thicker than my normal pants, so they should help keep me warm without being too bulky. Some days I feel like the Michelin man out there.

We usually have Dale’s homemade pizza on Friday night and decided to stick with our plan even though it’s New Year’s Eve. Tonight’s toppings will be Italian cold cuts and sliced green olives. The olives add a nice brininess to balance the richness of the meat.

Today we went to the local Asian supermarket, 99 Ranch, which is a spectacular place. We bought two live Dungeness crabs. Dale steamed them and picked out all the meat for crab rolls tomorrow. We’re off to a good start.

Happy New Year!

Grumpy times

It has been a weird couple of weeks. They’re calling this back thing sciatica resulting from a herniated disc. I’m calling it bullshit, but that’s me. Anyway, I can’t sit for very long, so that’s why I haven’t posted much lately.

The weather is miserable by my wussy California standards. We need the snow up in the mountains and the rain down here in the valleys and foothills, so this deluge is a great thing but rather miserable. I’m more of a drought kind of gal.

Continuing with the grumpy theme, I may as well report it has also been quite cold compared to the typical weather we see this time of year. I think the high today is 42 degrees. It may as well be zero.

The golf course is unplayable in terms of mud and lakes where there aren’t supposed to be any. Plus, I have to be desperate to play golf when it’s in the 40s. Even my 85-year-old diehard golf buddy who plays no matter what canceled for the week. Somehow, that made me feel better. But here I am, stuck in the house with my loving life partner, trying not to get mad about something or everything.

I can’t quite make myself go to the club and swim, even though the pool is heated. However, I have been walking every day. Seriously bundled up but walking nonetheless. Which reminds me of this song by Jesse Dayton: MAY HAVE TO DO IT (DON’T HAVE TO LIKE IT). Check it out. It’s a good song for these unprecedented times.

I got my first Social Security payment this month. That was fun. I do like to be on the receiving end of money. Forfeiting? Not so much. A guy I used to work with called to tell me about the sweet exit package he got for being forced to retire. I did not get that package.

However, two days earlier I heard that a big jerk I had to deal with had some sort of crisis and is no longer with the company. And justice finally caught up with an ex-boss who helped inspire me to exit the scene at a high rate of speed.

While I didn’t hang in there long enough to see it all go down, the fact that I worked with some particularly toxic people and walked away with a wonderful retirement sort of makes me feel like last man standing. I’m just not standing over there anymore.

I’m torn about physical therapy. I still believe in the Dr. Sarno approach, which assumes most pain is repressed anger and rage, and we must work hard to bring those feelings to the surface to make the pain subside. He thinks you should bypass anything that focuses on the body instead of the brain. Most of what I’ve read says time heals most sciatica. Not a lot of evidence that interventions help.

So, there’s that. Then there’s COVID. The therapist I saw last week had a droopy mask and when I suggested he get a better fit, he said, “That’s OK. I’m good.”

Yay for you, buddy. What about me???

Until Omicron passes, going back to the physical therapy place seems like high risk. Loose masks, people huffing and puffing, etc. I may go one more time to see if they can do some actual therapy instead of putting me through a battery of tests to see what hurts. Let me make this easy for you. Everything.

That leaves me with an upcoming haircut. I’ve been loving my new hair and want to keep it up. I know my stylist is fully vaccinated, boosted, masked and careful. Others will be wearing masks as well, and I’m thinking I could probably get in and out pretty fast.

Fucking COVID. While I did have some drama in my childhood and beyond, with the help of professional counseling, I worked through most of those issues the first time I had cancer. I’ve had a few other ah-ha moments of late, and I am grateful for that bit of introspection, but I think this stress is related to the pandemic.

I know I have it easy compared to many, and I am beyond grateful for all my good fortune. Like everyone else, I miss my old life, but I have this sense something has fundamentally changed, and there’s no going back.

Anyway, this is as long as I’ve been able to sit in quite some time, so maybe I am getting better. I did express anger, didn’t I? Still can’t quite summon the rage. There’s plenty of that going around. Honestly, I don’t think rage needs me. Maybe I can get away with just being a little pissed off.