Category: Current Events

Breaking bread

Can you stand one more picture of sourdough? I only wish I had taken one after Dale and I tore it apart like animals. I’ll leave it to your imagination. Sort of like breaking bad only we’ll call it breaking bread.

Yes, I violated the bread rules and am I ever glad I did. When I make sourdough bread, I always let it cool for several hours, and then we either eat it with dinner or save it for toast the next morning.

My bread came out of the oven around noon, and it was a really beautiful loaf. My last one had issues, so this came as a pleasant surprise. Dale was hovering over it, raving about how good it looked and said he was trying to decide if he should cut into it.

Although it had only been cooling for about 20 minutes, I said, go ahead, have at it! So he sliced off an end, and we both tore that hunk apart with our hands. First we ate it plain, and then we tried it with a little butter and salt. The crust was perfectly crisp, and the bread was soft and warm and dare I say fluffy on the inside. Then there’s that tang of sourdough.

I’m glad I didn’t die without eating sourdough bread right out of the oven. And with the way things are going on the political front, this may become a regular thing. In times like this, we need more cowbell.

My birthday has come and gone. I’m officially 70 and damned glad I made it this far. We had company, and I got caught up in events, so I didn’t make the cake, but it’s on the docket for tomorrow.

As I previously explained, I usually make chocolate cake for Dale’s birthday in May and coconut for mine in September. This year I’m making one cake  and going with chocolate because we both missed it. I like the idea of one cake for both birthdays. We seriously don’t need two cakes. I will cherish every piece.

I mentioned politics, but I’m trying hard not to dwell on it or let it defeat me. I’ve been talking about this for a long time, but I have finally stepped up to help out an organization that is fighting the good fight. I’m on the mailing list for our local Indivisible chapter, and they had a call for volunteers, so I sent them a note.   

Looks like I will be joining their communications team. Even though comms is my professional background, they have writers and right now the co-chair needs back-office support, so I volunteered to help her out for starters. She and I are going to meet this weekend to see what she actually needs done and whether I can do it right out of the box or will need training.

I’m feeling quite positive about the whole thing. And I actually think this will be good for my other side hustle, which is being on the board of my golf league and becoming captain next year. Somehow, I feel there’s symmetry between the two. I’ve been retired eight years and have enjoyed having no real responsibilities, but there’s a part of me that still needs a little something.

Of course, I’m still a professional goof-off, but I like to think these two roles fill a gap in my retirement resume.

Going mainstream

Hear ye, hear ye. This is my final word on the temptress we know as Substack.

Even though I said I wouldn’t do it, I messed around for hours with Substack this week thinking I could post some of my stuff over there but keep this blog, too. I finally got it going when I saw another writer left the platform because it hosts Nazis and other extremists. All in the name of anti-censorship.

I once again paused to sort it all out, and here’s where I landed. No media is perfect, and some of it is less perfect than others. For writers, what I have to say might make a difference in where you publish your work. For readers, it’s about how much information you really need and the credibility of your sources.

It seems like a lot of pro-Democracy writers migrated to Substack after Trump was elected for the second time, and mainstream media failed to muster the courage to call him out for his authoritarian tactics. I like the writers who jumped ship, but sucking in all that political content is depressing at best.

I never saw Substack as the holy grail of elevated thinking, mostly because I read the co-founder is the same guy behind the mobile messaging application called Kik.

The only reason I even know Kik exists is because I served on a jury last year, and the app was integral to the case. Kik does not require a phone number or email to sign-up, and the anonymity is one of the reasons people are drawn to it.

The defendant in the case admitted he used it to chat about his fetishes and even to hook up with strangers for sex, but that wasn’t the charge. He was accused of downloading child pornography on the Kik app. Investigators testified about how that all happens and how they become alerted to bad actors. Although Kik was not invented for this purpose, pervs love it and the company makes millions.

That’s why I never thought Substack was about lofty ideals. Just another way to make money. It’s hard to know what to believe anymore, but there’s something to be said for mainstream media, warts and all. At least they have guard rails. And if you read a hard copy or limit yourself to one daily reading session, it’s contained. There’s no continuous flow of information.

Substack hosts many excellent writers, but there’s no barrier to entry, and you need to factor that in when you decide what to read. And as soon as you get on there, more is pushed your way. For me, and for all of those who are trying to survive these challenging times without going batshit crazy, it’s easy to become overwhelmed.

Although I may regret what might be called an impulsive move, I shut down my Substack account. Yes, there is a lot of good content there, but it stresses me out. I’ll stick with a cursory review of the NY Times and my local newspaper and call it a day.

As for my blog, I don’t presume WordPress is saintly, but I’m pretty sure it’s not the platform used by nine out of 10 Nazi sex predators. To some extent, what I write is in its own little bubble, and I don’t share common space with whack jobs. The only community I connect with is a lovely group of intelligent kind-hearted readers.

Not a bad gig. Thanks for being part of the journey. I very much appreciate your support.

Workplace culture only better

When I reflect on what I choose to share on this blog about life after work, it mostly comes down to politics, what I’m eating, what I’m watching and what I’m reading. There’s a mishmash of other stuff, but with the exception of politics, it’s about the simple pleasures that fill these long glorious days without gainful employment.

If I had to put it all in a bucket, I would call it retirement culture … like workplace culture only better. It’s a sum of the values, behaviors and attitudes that define these last few decades of our lives, as opposed to the hellhole where we used to go to make money.

This chapter is fun but sometimes scary, and the question is how are we going to pull it off?

Although politics doesn’t directly relate to retirement culture, everything that happens in our country and in the world weighs on us for good or for bad. The attack on democracy in America jolted me out of my happy place and impacts everything. Everything.

Accomplished thought leaders with impressive credentials write about these issues, and that’s where I go to help me understand what’s happening and what I can do about it.

Deep analysis is not my gift. When I write about politics, it’s from the perspective of an average Joe trying to make sense of it all. My storytelling is not about the facts as much as how the facts make us feel. How can we move through our days with the weight of it all bearing down on us?

Can I just get back to being happy, please?

Thanks for letting me explore that with you. I’ve been struggling with my purpose, and as always, I don’t know what I think until I write about it. Despite what I said earlier, I’m still considering a move to Substack, but I don’t want to do it until I have a clear picture of whatever it is I bring to the table.

This week’s political thought is about Gavin Newsom. As governor of California, I’ve liked him just fine and never understood these protesters pushing to have him recalled. Dinner at the French Laundry during Covid was a mistake, but he has owned up to it and there are worse things. Like sexually assaulting a woman in a department store dressing room for one. There are more, but I’ll move on.

Anyway, there’s a lot to say about him, good and bad, but he’s out there, challenging Trump and I like it. My financial planner is from South Carolina and leans right. He even said he’s starting to like Gavin. To me, that says a lot. Maybe Gavin can bring people to the middle. That might not please the left or the right, but lordy, maybe it’s a light at the end of the tunnel.

Maybe middle can get us back to happy.

What I’m eating

With no disrespect to my husband, I said, seriously, dude, I’m feeling pressured about tomatoes. They are perfect right now, and the clock is ticking, but I’m kind of missing the other food groups. This week alone we had tomato pie, Greek salad and BLTs.

We did have a tomato break one night when he made simple grilled pork chops and a hobo pack. For the hobo pack, he tosses vegetables in olive oil, salt and pepper and then seals them up in a foil pouch. We usually go with carrots, onions and red potatoes, but just about anything works. Depending on the coals, they take about 20 minutes.

All I know is they magically appear on my plate!

Dale found some good-looking veal cutlets … just the right thickness for cordon bleu, so that’s on the docket for tonight. He pounds them out and stuffs them with thinly sliced Black Forest ham and Muenster cheese.

That cornucopia of deliciousness gets sealed up in a somewhat rectangular package secured with toothpicks and then breaded and pan-fried in leaf lard, the real stuff, not the block available at most grocery stores.

We’ll have our cordon bleu with a simple butter lettuce salad and vinaigrette , similar to the way we enjoyed it in Germany. Oh, a nice Gewürztraminer to go with.

Pro tip: If you haven’t used Muenster cheese in your quesadillas, give it a try! You won’t regret it.

What I’m watching

After a four-month break-up, I rejoined Netflix and am happy to be back. I binged Department Q, which is about a semi-obnoxious detective and his team investigating cold cases. I do love me a good cold case.

I’ve read all the Department Q books by Jussi Adler-Olsen, and while there are differences, the TV show captured the essence. The novels are set in Denmark, and the series is based in Scotland. I was kind of annoyed at first, but it doesn’t actually make a difference.

I watched one episode of Wednesday, and it gave me bad dreams. I do like the series about Wednesday Addams of Addams Family fame, so I’ll give it another go. I’ve also watched a couple episodes of Untamed, which is about a federal agent investigating crimes in Yosemite National Park.

The story is good, and the scenery is gorgeous, but I just read this morning it’s actually filmed in Canada. That’s probably because the toilets backed up at Yosemite since they implemented all the staff cuts.

What I’m reading

I haven’t been reading as much as I normally do, but I’ve been spending some quality time with cookbooks. Not exactly intellectual, but even my normal reading isn’t particularly lofty. As for crime fiction, I’ve exhausted my list at the library and need to re-load. Here are a couple of places that give me ideas for what to read next:

https://crimereads.com

https://internationalnoir.blogspot.com

https://eurocrime.blogspot.com

I finished Nightshade, Michael Connelly’s new book featuring Detective Stilwell of Catalina Island. It’s very good. Detective Stilwell is an interesting character. I mean, he’s no Harry Bosch, but everybody counts or nobody counts, right?

Weirder than normal

I’ve been feeling weirder than normal, which is saying something.

It started with a jaw ache. I mentioned it during my regular visit to the dentist and after x-rays and all that, he said nothing looked amiss. Then he asked if I was clenching my teeth. I said probably. Lots to clench about these days.  

He fitted me for a mouth guard to wear as I clench my way through the night. I pick it up next week. When I mentioned it to Dale, he said that might explain why his jaw hurts. It looks like we’re in this together. ‘Til death do us clench.

Then I was reading about the new Republican ideal woman. Thin, white, obsessed with healthy eating. Geez, that sounds a lot like me, with some obvious omissions on the healthy part. But my hair could pass for Republican. It scared me at first, but I’m not surrendering in advance. They can take my bob when they pry it out of my cold dead hands.

Fortunately, I realized it doesn’t matter anyway. The thin, white, Republican women they were talking about are young. Uterus-forward. Having babies, they hope. Childless cat ladies of a certain age are already off the radar for anyone who cares what women look like. And you know what? I’m good with that. I’ll just ride this whole thing out under cover of agedness.

Let’s see. Oh, pop culture. It turns out everything I know is dead.

On the bright side, I’ve been trying to be more sociable and had a tiny win this week. As an introvert, I’m terrible at chit-chat and just want to be alone with my puzzles. I went back to the basics and asked a question. Several of us were relaxing after golf, and someone mentioned music. I said, “What was the best concert you ever attended?”

That started a fun conversation, and one of the women said and I quote, “Great question!” See? Now we’re talking positive feedback. You, too, can improve your social skills with one quick lesson from Retirement Confidential. Call now for this exclusive offer!

The other weird thing is my car. Sometimes on the way to golf, I eat a PBJ burrito – peanut butter and jelly rolled up burrito-style in a small flour tortilla. I got gunk all over my hand and my cute white skort one day and assumed some of the jelly squirted out as I was eating. I wiped up what I could.

But then it happened again, and while I did not do a taste test, I realized it was not jelly at all. That’s the good news. I can eat and drive. But it appears some sort of adhesive is bubbling up through the center console. I dropped the car off at the dealership this morning, and the service guy gave me the side eye. Like, seriously, lady? I have to waste my time on this?

He said they would take a look at it, but he wasn’t sure what they could do. I said I don’t know a lot about cars, but I imagine you could remove the console, clean up the mess, apply new adhesive and replace the console. He said probably.

For backup, I was prepared to say, “I’m sorry, but the car is less than two years old, and I’m new to sticky substances bubbling up through my ride.” My backup backup is for when they try and charge me for all this. That’s when I’ll be ready with, “Oh, toxic messes leaking from the console is considered normal wear and tear?”

I’m hoping we won’t have to go there.    

So, Substack. I have to say something about Substack. I started reading The Contrarian on Substack after Jennifer Rubin left the Washington Post. That led me to Robert Reich, Paul Krugman and Heather Cox Richardson, who are reputable writers with important content I’m not seeing in the mainstream media.

Nothing wrong with Substack, per se. But there are also lots of people you’ve never heard of pumping conspiracy theories that are sometimes consistent with my world view. And I’m like, oh, goodie, that explains it. I want more! Except you don’t know who or what to believe. Now I understand how people get sucked into this sort of thing.

I had been thinking of either switching to Substack for this blog or at least sharing some of my content on the platform. Even though there’s some high-quality reporting to be found, the feed (Substack Notes) is no better than Facebook, X or any of the other social media sites. As I see it, there’s really no way to filter out misinformation.

I’ll still read the stuff I read – but after clenching my way through several nights, I decided I’m not going to play in that sandbox.

Weirder Than Normal. That could be my legacy. The leading candidate is currently She Tried Hard.  

Bread and tomatoes

I had to turn off the Trump fountain of falsehoods. At least for a few days so I can feel peace in my heart again. But before I quit, I read a quote from my Republican congressman, who said with regard to Epstein, he didn’t know and didn’t care. Well, now, surely he needed to hear from a constituent about that.

So, yes, I called his office and spoke with one of the gang who answers the phones. I was polite. I was! I said his quote disturbed me because aside from political theater, there are victims here. Young girls were trafficked and abused, and if Congressman McClintock doesn’t know or care about that, then something is wrong with him.

All they ever say is thanks, we’ll share this with the congressman. Right. But I feel better for having said it. While there are lots of groups being marginalized, as a woman, I can only speak of my own experience, and it feels like we have been relegated to the trash heap of history.

I said I was over it, but news … I can’t quit you.

We’ve had gorgeous weather, and I’m planning to do a nice long walk today. When I was younger, I defaulted to cardio, because I was always worried about my weight and thought that was the best way to burn calories. Strength training was never a priority, and that has definitely been a bite in the ass as I’ve aged.

Now I default to strength training and fit in cardio where I can. I’ve made remarkable progress in a year and a half. And I’ll go out on a limb here and say it’s possible my shoulder injury is improving. This has been going on since March.

The physical therapist and the sports medicine doctor agreed I needed to do resistence exercises through the pain. This is another idea that caught me by surprise. I figured if it hurts, stop. Depending on the injury, there is some truth to that, but current thinking seems to be strengthen as you heal, and eventually strength will win.

I might actually be on the cusp of winning. We shall see.

What I’m eating

Bread and tomatoes. Is that the secret to happiness? The tomatoes are getting better and better. We had Greek salads again. When we ate them in Crete, the wine was always served in what looked like a small juice glass. We still do that! You know, for atmosphere. Although we no longer drink Domestica. Not that there was anything wrong with it …

Dale made bread to go with the Greek salads, so he whipped up some grilled cheese sandwiches the next night. He makes a killer grilled cheese. A mix of American and Cheddar with a schmear of yellow mustard on the inside of the bread. The outside of the bread is buttered well and then grilled in a cast iron pan until golden brown and delicious. We usually serve it with Kosher pickles or pickled cucumbers Dale makes from scratch.

I sometimes feel embarrassed about how much bread we eat, but I took an oath to share the unvarnished truth. Here it is …

We had paninis the next night. We didn’t want the tomatoes to go bad. That’s our story, and we’re sticking to it.

Dale bought some ciabatta rolls for the paninis. Whole milk mozzarella cheese, tomatoes and fresh basil for the filling. He schmears the inside of the bread with balsamic vinegar and the outside with olive oil. I know – lots of schmearing going on. Simple but fantastic.

Tonight I’m making a variation of an Indian dish called Kheema. The recipe I use is from Indian Instant Pot by Urvashi Pitre. This is one of my favorite cookbooks. This particular version doesn’t use peas, but I’ve seen a lot of Kheema recipes that do.

She uses ground beef, but I use ground bison. The dish is loaded with garlic, ginger, onions and spices, along with spinach, tomatoes and coconut milk. Almost like a stew. That should take care of this week’s tomatoes. I will also make naan to go with. More bread drill sergeant!

What I’m watching

I finished Ballard, and I liked it a lot. Harry Bosch was in a few episodes, and when I see Titus Welliver in that role, I feel such respect and gratitude for what actors can do. He’s the perfect Harry Bosch. Anyway, the show ended with a cliffhanger, and that always annoys me.

PBS Masterpiece has a new show called Patience, which is an English version of Astrid, the French show featuring an autistic detective. I like them both, but I’m thinking I preferred Astrid. I read the actor who played Astrid is not autistic, but the actor who plays Patience is. Might just be me, but I think Patience is a little more mainstream, and perhaps that’s what they wanted to show. I guess that’s why they call it a spectrum.

What I’m reading

I just picked up Carl Hiaasen’s Fever Beach from the library. It’s pretty funny, as all his books are, but still, kind of depressing. It’s about incredibly stupid young white nationalists in Florida, and the unlikely folks who seem to be their undoing. I love where this is going, but it makes me mad to think there are douchebags out there like that.

Some distractions are better than others

Well, well. What to make of the Epstein fuss? After careful deliberation, methinks I will stick to mediocre golf and good food, as the more I read about this business, the weirder it gets. Not that I don’t appreciate the entertainment value, but I fear it’s just another distraction, and Trump will once again slip away without a hitch.

I look forward to being wrong.

Some distractions are better than others. I prefer golf to pedophiles, although it’s looking like golf is a little less predictable. In my women’s league, last week I was DFL in my flight. That stands for Dead Fucking Last. This week I tied for low gross over the field.

I don’t understand why I can’t play well all the time, and it used to make me so mad. But now there’s The Great Big Picture Book of things to be mad about, so it was time to make peace with the ups and downs of recreational golf.

It’s better this way. Honestly, I’m just happy to be healthy and able to play. Double bogeys pale in comparison to masked men grabbing you off the street.

A friend of mine in Los Angeles is Mexican-American, born in the United States. I met her when we were both in the Army. She went on to get a PhD and taught at the university level. She’s retired now and recently wrote that she might start carrying her passport when she goes out. Because her skin is brown.

This was supposed to be about golf and food, but I seem to be combusting, so let’s just go with it. Among the multitude of things that fire me up are the little cross necklaces some of these despicable people wear for show. Pam Bondi for one. Karoline Leavitt for two.

Not exactly models of Christianity. Unless their bibles have a special section on the merits of fascism, viciousness and hypocrisy.

I have a special grudge against Karoline. In my career as a professional communicator, I often served as the company spokesperson. In some ways, it’s like being the conscience of the company.

Even when the news is bad, you have to find your organization’s truth and tell their story, and you have to tell it in a way that builds trust with your stakeholders – the public, customers, etc. We weren’t perfect, but we were always respectful to the media, and we didn’t blame them for our failures.

Karoline and these other spokespeople who work for Trump have made a mockery of this ideal. I think, well, they aren’t the conscience of the company, but then again, if the company is Trump, maybe they are. But it’s still a dagger to the heart of what I thought was an honorable career.

Back to food. Tomato season is in full swing. I made tomato pie, I start with a homemade biscuit crust and add well-drained sliced tomatoes, grated cheddar cheese, fresh basil, chopped chives and a sauce made from mayonnaise thinned with a little lemon juice. Top with more crust, slash and bake. 

It’s like tomato shortcake. We ate half of it Thursday, and we’re eating the other half tonight.

Our Saturday night show of late has been Poldark on PBS Passport. It’s one of the few shows Dale will watch, so that’s good. But then we had an argument about it, so that’s bad. I can’t understand how we can be so combative over things that don’t matter.

There’s a character in the show named Verity. The family doesn’t want her to marry the love of her life, and it’s turning out to be a very big deal. I couldn’t understand why, so I Googled it. I explained some of my findings to Dale, who was pissed. Why wouldn’t I just wait to see how the story unfolded?

OK, he’s got a point. I don’t know why I jumped the gun, but I guess I won’t be doing it again anytime soon. Without Dale’s expert guidance, I’ve been managing to watch Ballard on Amazon Prime. It’s a Harry Bosch spin-off, which is never a bad thing.

Speaking of Harry, I’m on the waiting list at the library for Nightshade, a new Michael Connelly book featuring a detective on Catalina Island.

Tune out the noise

As soon as I said I would just keep writing, I just stopped writing. Life is weird. You heard it here first.

One of my issues is that I self-censor. I think, this is bad or this is boring or this is too political or whatever, but I am going to try harder to tune out the noise and just say what I have to say. Some posts won’t resonate with some readers, and that’s OK. Most of you keep coming back!

The other issue is that I am distraught over what is happening in our country, and sometimes it feels like a choking haze that affects every aspect of my life. It’s death by a thousand cuts. We feel some impacts immediately, but others will unfold over time … the attack on education, medicine and science, climate change denial. This is the legacy these people want to leave their children and grandchildren?

In spite of it all, I am fine and happy to be standing upright. About 26 years ago, I survived cancer with roughly a 30 percent chance of living five years. I later wrote a piece called, Cancer in My Pocket. You can read the whole thing here, but the gist of it is in these words:

Sometimes I imagine that I carry around cancer in my pocket like an emergency dollar bill. And sometimes I just have to reach in my pocket and fish it out to remind me that every minute of every day is a gift.

I wish I had learned all this important stuff in some other way, but I ignored all the little sticks. It was the big stick that got my attention. For those of you who are better with sticks, I think the thing to remember is that whatever we’re doing, wherever we’ve been and wherever we’re going, no matter how bad it gets, we’re lucky. We’re really, really lucky.

So, yes, I’ve been digging around in my pockets, where I usually find used tissues, but that’s another story. I’ve been so disappointed in the Supreme Court, but I was excited to see a federal judge navigate through the rulings and find a way to at least temporarily stop the assault on birthright citizenship. Although it doesn’t seem like the courts will save us, they just might.  

In other news, Dale, at age 76, was diagnosed with psoriasis. He’s blaming Trump. Well, the stress induced by Trump. May as well, since Biden gets blamed for everything else.

It’s a miserable ailment, and he was not a happy camper. Fortunately, the flare-up has passed but geez, you’d think he was the first guy who ever had an itchy spot. And then there’s his complete lack of experience with moisturizing. Seriously, it’s not that hard. Anyway, now I know what they mean by the heartbreak of psoriasis.  

My achy breaky body parts are doing reasonably well. Every morning is like roll call.

Knees?

Here!

Back?

Here!

Shoulder?

Present!

There’s always a joker in the midst. The shoulder is my new loudmouth, but I’m committed to getting through this. My knees are the best they’ve been in decades, and that took more than a year of dedicated physical therapy. Now I’ve got a slew of shoulder exercises, and I truly believe eventually I will have a stronger more resilient body that can hold up to the pressures I put on it.

With the knees feeling so good, you may remember I talked about doing a multi-day walk. I was getting all excited going down that rabbit hole, when it occurred to me I might just relax and enjoy normal activity without knee pain. What a concept!

All in all, it is hard to watch our country slide down the shame spiral … I mean, masked federal agents? Who thinks that’s OK? But we still have life, and it is a beautiful thing. Now if Trump is awarded the Nobel Peace Prize, then we know everything, absolutely everything is rigged.

Maybe I got it wrong. I’ll bet it’s the Nobel Pizza Prize. That would make more sense. I’m sure he eats his share.

No cons, no clowns, no kings

We went to a local No Kings rally last weekend. Dale thought we only needed one sign between us, and I agreed. But then we couldn’t agree on the sign. This is standard operating procedure for us. Sometimes it’s hard to believe we’ve been married 46 years.

It was a struggle to get there, but we finally went with, “No cons, no clowns, no kings.” And for a couple of hours we felt good about the future. Now, well, not so much.  

There are so many things to be mad about. War. Obviously, that’s not good. But some of the small things bother me just as much. Wiping out history because the regime doesn’t like admitting it happened? 

New signs at national parks and historic sites include QR codes, urging visitors to report any signs or information “that are negative about either past or living Americans or that fail to emphasize the beauty, grandeur and abundance of landscapes.”

I know you get this news from other sources, and I suspect you are sick of hearing about it from me. I made the mistake of looking at my blog statistics, and they have gone down a little each year since COVID. More so since Trump 2.0.

It’s true I’m not as cheerful as I used to be, but I write about retired life and getting older and stuff I’m experiencing, and what’s happening in our country is part of the package. Plus, I think it’s important to speak up while we still can. So, statistics be damned.

JKW. Just Keep Writing.

We are anxiously awaiting the arrival of fresh tomatoes. There are several farmers markets near us, and yesterday we went to one of the larger ones in hopes of a sneak preview. Our favorite tomato vendor didn’t have any yet, but there were was one stand featuring a few tomatoes, so we took a chance.

I was craving a big messy bison burger with lettuce, tomatoes, pickles, onions, mayonnaise and mustard. No ketchup ever. It was as advertised – big and messy – and the tomato was OK. I call them iceberg tomatoes. The real ones aren’t here yet.

We learned about a place where you pick your own corn, and they even have a corn hotline so you don’t have to drive out there until you’re sure. I rather love that. They are only open Tuesdays and Saturdays. I called the hotline, and it said corn was ready, so I believe we will be making the trek this week.

I don’t know whether it’s turning 70 in a couple of months or politics or something else, but I’ve been reflecting on the past and wondering about some of the choices I made. Some of it wasn’t necessarily a choice but rather who I was at that time in life and now wishing I’d been different.

Having been raised by wolves, it took me a long time to figure out how to navigate work and life. I had a great career, but it could have been better if I hadn’t been such a mess inside.

Also, I’ve never been the most sociable person on the planet, and to some extent I blame that on the wolves, but it’s on me, too. I should have tried harder to make and keep friends.

While I’ve accepted wear and tear on the body as part of aging, I still resent it. What was I doing when my body was in peak form? Oh, that’s right, working my ass of at a 24/7 job so I could make enough money and retire before I totally crap out.

Actually, my body is feeling pretty darn good, especially my knees, and I’ve been daydreaming about long-distance walking trip. But geez, will they hold up? I’m continuing to do my exercises and slowly adding mileage, so I guess we’ll see. I don’t want to book anything until I’m reasonably certain I can do it.

As for other choices, the big one is my life partner. No lie, Dale and I do get on each other’s nerves, but after all these years we’re getting better at agreeing to disagree, and I don’t doubt my choice there. We’re both outspoken, independent and non-traditional, and he has never tried to clip my wings.

No cons, no clowns, no kings.

It seems to me I compromise more than he does on the small things in daily life, but we’ve been together so long it’s starting to seem like some of those things were my idea in the first place.

Like no ketchup on a burger. Whose rule was that?

Art will find a way

Not that it hasn’t been fun to watch the biglicious brawl between Trump and Musk, but I’m not sure any of it is real. I’ve long suspected Elon was worming his way into Trump’s good graces to ultimately push him out of office so the tech right can get their boy JD in place. Sure, it’s a bit of a conspiracy theory, but I wouldn’t rule it out.

On the other hand, it could be a distraction not unlike staged professional wrestling matches, and that would explain why Linda McMahon has a job. While we’re watching the sideshow, Republicans will line up behind their man and pass his horrid spending bill.

Me? I’m hoping the breakup is real. I was reading all about it yesterday at my desk and moved to the couch to make myself more comfortable for the duration. The only thing missing was popcorn. I couldn’t wait to get up this morning, figuring those whack jobs were up all night, but it looks like they actually went to bed at some point. You know, nothing good happens after 10 p.m.

So, yes, I’m eager to see the Epstein files, but then I never gave up on the pee pee tapes, either. Just a crazy kid with a dream. It’s not a stretch to imagine Musk had access to a lot of dirt while ferreting through our government records.

I seem to remember Tom Arnold saying someone had tapes of Trump using the n-word while filming his TV show. I believe Amazon has the rights to all footage and outtakes, so I wouldn’t bet those will ever see the light of day.

But you never can tell. All I know is that I know nothing. Nothing. It’s like living in Bizarro World. I am so sick of these people.

Time to focus on simple pleasures. I have a few achy breaky body parts right now, but it’s nothing serious, and I’m moving my way through the pain. I had a nice walk this morning. As my massage therapist says, motion is lotion. She was complimenting me on my exercise regime, and I said, well, it’s all good, but geez, I still hurt. She said that’s because you’re alive! You’re moving, and you’re getting stronger!

Thanks, I needed that.

Dale made fajitas, as promised, and we ate outside. I followed through on my commitment to set the music up in advance, and we started with The Clash, probably my all-time favorite group. We even danced a little. Glad there are no tapes of that.

Then we switched to Bruce Springsteen, another favorite. He has been a strong voice for democracy, and it made me realize more than ever how art can make a difference. Creative people have been having a field day with all this Trump stuff, and I love it. No matter what happens, there will always be artists to bring reality to life.

That revelation inspired me to start a new piece of woodburning art. This is a work-in-progress. I typically use pallet scraps, but this is wood I purchased. It’s nice, but I sort of like the rustic nature of pallets. This piece is larger, so it has been fun to go big.

I’ve burned all the images, and now I’m beginning to paint. I usually start with the things I want to reproduce in their colors of origin. For example, I know I want the cherry on the hot fudge sundae to be red. I get that sort of stuff done first, so I know where those colors are. Then I can go crazy with pink cats or whatever.

As you can see, there’s a huge sunflower up and front. I copied it from the internet, but yesterday I saw an actual sunflower, and mine doesn’t look like that. Let’s just say mine is a loose interpretation of what a sunflower could be.

Art will find a way.

Not quite broken

Maybe I’m dreaming, but it’s like something switched over in me, and I’ve become quite good at managing the daily Trump dump. I know it’s there, this brutal attack on democratic values, and I refuse to look away, but I found a place to park it in my brain where it doesn’t drive me crazy every single day.

Oh, and don’t ask for help because I have no idea how I finally got there or if it will last. All I know is that it felt like everything was broken, and it occurred to me I didn’t survive cancer twice to be this miserable over things I can’t control.  

I’ve been feeling good. Not quite broken after all. We are planning to join a June 14 protest. This would be in opposition to Trump’s multi-million dollar, tax-payer funded military parade in Washington, D.C. for his 79th birthday. I am reminded that my mother died on her birthday.

What I’m eating

My sourdough has been giving me fits. The last few loaves tasted good, but I wasn’t getting the rise I want. I did a bit of troubleshooting and came to the conclusion my starter isn’t strong enough. When you feed starter, you are also supposed to discard some of it. I always felt that was wasteful, even though I know you can save the discard and use it for other things. So, I didn’t do it.

But discarding some of the starter each time you feed it strengthens the brew. I guess mine was too diluted. I went back to discarding, and sure enough, my starter perked up. This last loaf looks great to me!  

I made spanakopita this week. That would be layers of buttered phyllo dough stuffed with spinach, feta cheese, eggs and yogurt – and then seasoned with onion, garlic, dill, mint, lemon zest and nutmeg. And sprinkles of Pecorino Romano cheese between the layers. Baked until crispy golden brown. It’s normally an appetizer, but I cut larger pieces, and we ate it as an entrée.

Both of us have quite a Mexican Jones going on most of the time. This week, I made slow cooker jalapeño pulled pork and used the filling to make oven-baked taquitos. Dale made a white queso for dipping, plus we had some homemade salsa verde.

There was a wee mishap with the slow cooker. Mine came with a temperature probe, which I have never used. In one of my fuzzier moments I put the probe in the bottom of the base unit for safe keeping and then put the ceramic liner on top. I never realized the probe was still there.

The pork was perfect, but when I took out the liner so I could put it in the dishwasher, I saw something odd stuck to the base unit and then icky brown stuff around it like blood from a crime scene. I thought, why, that looks like the probe!

Dale was able to pry it off, and while the probe is toast, the slow cooker seems no worse for the wear.

What I’m watching

Many thanks to Sheila, a friend here at Retirement Confidential, for alerting me to a new season of The Mountain Detective on PBS Passport.

I confess to watching Reacher on Amazon Prime. That was part of my stress epiphany. Per my boycott, I’m still spending next to nothing on Amazon, but I love my digital content and decided Jeff can have a few bucks if it makes me happy.

What I’m reading

I mentioned Jar City in an earlier post. This is the first in a crime series by Icelandic writer Arnaldur Indriðason featuring Inspector Elendur. I’ve since read two more, and I believe there are 11 in the series. This might be my favorite new-to-me series.

The Cold, Cold Ground is the first Detective Sergeant Sean Duffy novel by Adrian McKinty. The setting is 1980s Ireland. Complex politics, sometimes hard to follow, but I liked it very much. There are eight books in the series.

I’m a fan of the Irish crime series by Benjamin Black featuring Quirke, a pathologist in Dublin during the 1950s. There’s also a Boston connection. Christine Falls is the first of seven. The Silver Swan was number two, and I have number three by my bedside.

World of Trouble was the finale to The Last Policeman trilogy. The story is about what happens to people and families when they believe an asteroid will destroy Earth in a matter of months. For a grim subject, it’s an entertaining read. At first I didn’t like the ending, but it haunts me. There is darkness, yet there is light. Detective Hank Palace is a character you will not soon forget.

Just this morning I finished The Summer Guests by Tess Gerritsen. This is second after The Martini Club about a group of retired CIA agents in Maine. Highly entertaining. Now I want to explore her other novels.

I’ve read three of the Veronica Speedwell novels by Deanna Raybourn. The first was A Curious Beginning. The setting is Victorian England, and Veronica is an adventurous natural historian who specializes in butterflies. Due to unforeseen circumstances, she partners with another natural historian to solve crimes. He also happens to be sort of hunky. Such great escapism, and there are nine in the series. Yay.

Last but not least, I started the Maisie Dobbs series by Jacqueline Winspear. The first is actually titled Maisie Dobbs. A former servant, she evolves to become a nurse during World War I and returns home to continue her education and become a private investigator slash psychologist. If I got this right, there are 18 books in the series. Double yay.