Category: Rambling Thursday

My retirement hair is one length, no color, long enough for a ponytail or bun. Cheap and easy, like my men.

Just kidding. Dale is anything but easy. Although I will hand it to him … he might qualify for cheap. Dale doesn’t spend much money. His big trip out is the grocery store, where he goes wild. He is a good but obsessive shopper. I think it’s his military background in logistics.

the great feta cheese crisis

For a few weeks, it seemed there was no decent Feta cheese anywhere to be found. We tried multiple stores, among them Whole Foods, and we wasted money on several different brands, including some sort of cult Feta from Berkeley. It was the worst!

Even one of the Greek brands sucked. It turns out we like Bulgarian or Israeli Feta. In brine, in chunks, not pre-crumbled. Such snobs! Now Dale cruises the cheese aisle every time we go to the store to ensure as God is his witness, WE NEVER RUN OUT OF CHEESE AGAIN.

The cut

I get my hair trimmed about three times a year. This week, I asked her to take off more length. My hair is fine, and the ends were getting scraggly. All that to say it needed to be done, it still looks kind of cute under a hat, I can still pull it back or up, and I know it looks good … but … I wish I had my hair back.

So, yes, I must accept I don’t have goddess hair. Seriously, I knew that a long time ago, but hope springs eternal. I will probably let it grow back just a bit, as I almost always let my hair air dry, and I believe it falls better and looks less frizzy with a little more length.   

My other option is to go short, which I’m not opposed to, but I hate the idea of spending more money and more time in the salon. I may end up there, but we shall see. To me, mid-length hair is easier all around.

Swimmer’s hair

While I was at the salon, we talked about swimming. That’s one of the reasons I had so much cut off – the pool is killing my hair. I bought some anti-chlorine shampoo, which was OK but left my hair like straw. My neighbor swims, and her hair is gorgeous. But then she is one of the goddess people. She uses Aveda Sun Care, which I bought and like much better than the other stuff.

My stylist said the anti-chlorine shampoos are good, but they strip your hair of moisture. I would need a moisturizing masque. Whereupon she escorted me to the product rack. She said this one will last you forever. I said, “That’s code for it’s expensive.”

She laughed. I really like her, and she did exactly what needed to be done to my hair. I can still mourn the goddess, right? Anyway, I only use a dime-sized amount of the conditioning masque, so I believe she is right about it lasting forever. It should. The jar was $63.

To be fair, it’s a fancy jar. Pretty enough for my ashes, since it now seems likely we’ll both be here for the end. On the bright side, it fixed my problems with swimmer’s hair.

playing outside in the heat

We’re having a hot spell, and the women’s club championship started this week at the golf course where I play. I had all my sun gear and walked with my pullcart and my UV sun umbrella, even though it was supposed to be 104 degrees. I had an 8:30 a.m. tee time, so I figured I’d be spared the worst of it.

It was toasty out there, but I felt fine. Drank a lot of water along with my electrolyte beverage. I also took a spray bottle and sprayed myself down every few holes. What a difference that made! It’s like personal air conditioning.

For the record, I have no possible chance of winning. I’m pretty much a bogey golfer with a handicap of 18. I’m just playing for the experience. My goal is to not be DFL – dead fucking last. I shot an 88, which is not my best but certainly acceptable by my standards. We have to play two more times for the championship, so hopefully I’ll keep the streak going.

It’s funny how golf giveth and taketh away. I had a lesson on how to get out of the sand. The good news is that it worked. It’s a great shot to know, and it’s useful elsewhere on the course. The bad news is it aggravated my old wrist injury. I’m taking a couple of days off from golf and wearing a wrist brace. That usually fixes things.

An outing!

Dale and I are actually going on an outing today. We haven’t camped or traveled since he hurt his back earlier in the summer. He’s coming around, but we are still taking things easy.

Today’s outing is a trip to the Folsom History Museum, where there is an exhibit on the Chinese legacy in Folsom. It’s just one town over from where we live. This entire region is so rich with history. Even driving up 80 toward Reno, I get excited when I see signs for the Donner Pass.

I especially love all the Gold Rush stories. I’ve read about the Chinese in California during that period, and I want to learn more. While I’ve always assumed my strength is journalism and personal essays, I am tinkering with the idea of writing some sort of historical fiction.

When it comes to motivation, I often think of the movie, Cross Creek with Mary Steenburgen. The movie is based on the life of Marjorie Kinnen Rawlings, who wrote The Yearling.

She was basically a talented but unsuccessful writer who didn’t find her niche until she was inspired by the rural people she got to know after moving to an orange grove in Florida. Once she found out what she was supposed to write about all along, everything fell into place.

All that to say, you never know what will inspire you to try new things or achieve something you never thought you could do. That’s why I keep looking.

What to wear in the sun

OK. Here I go again with the abbreviated version of my post about sun protective clothing. I’m not super-sensitive to the sun, but it’s not getting any cooler out there, so I do what I can to protect my skin.

The first photo is what is often called a sun shrug or shawl. You can wear one over a shirt, as I’m showing, or under. I tried several of them from Amazon, but all the sleeves were too short for me. I went with SP Arms, a brand favored by the LPGA. Never mind I had the most putts of ANYONE in league play yesterday, but at least I looked spectacular.

Sp Arms America is offering a 30 percent discount and free shipping through the end of the year with this code: LPGA30OFF. For reference, I’m 5’7″ and wearing the medium. The color is gray, but it’s actually bluish gray. I might get another one in black or white.

In the last picture, I’m wearing One Pair UV Protection Cooling Arm Sleeves. Affordable and effective! I’ve heard some of my golf buddies complain that sleeves fall down, but these don’t. I don’t even notice they are there.

Oh, and the hat. I went for a bigger brim because I do spend a lot of time in the sun and now use a Retinol product on my face. This hat is from Outdoor Research. I purchased it at REI. Even with the hat, I use SPF 50 on my face.

Solar power

Speaking of the sun, we have contractors coming today to give us a quote on installing solar power. Our accountant said this is the last year for the 30 percent federal refund, so if we’re ever going to do it, the time is now.

We’ll have to see about cost. I’ve read you should be able to recoup your investment within five years. We expect to live here that long, but you never know what will happen. We’re paying a lot to the utility company and like the idea of spending some of our savings to stop the bleeding. Solar power should certainly be good for resale when it comes to that.

Foodie Finds

I was out of town last weekend, was comatose Monday and then played golf Tuesday and Wednesday. Today was the first time Dale and I had an opportunity to do something together. Something involving lots of pork.

We drove into Sacramento on a foodie excursion. First, we stopped at Morant’s Old Fashioned Sausage Kitchen. The butcher is a certified German sausage meister. We bought three different types of sausages, including the beautiful brats in the picture. Dale is grilling the brats tonight, and we’ll have them with marinated cucumbers and sweet onions.

Then we headed to the Mercado, where we bought local lard and Pasilla chiles. Lard sometimes freaks people out, but it’s no worse than butter. And it’s not like we’re gulping it down by the spoonful. We buy fancy lard from the farmer’s market for biscuits but the cheaper stuff for schnitzels. You know they make it fresh when you can smell the chicharrones frying.

The chiles are for his homemade chile sauce, which we use in a variety of Mexican dishes, including enchiladas and huevos rancheros. At the cash register, I saw pumpkin candy, which I’ve adored since I was a kid, so I couldn’t resist.

Next stop was Corti Brothers (thanks to a tip from Christina at Tahoe Girl). What a treat! Dale’s like, this isn’t going to be cheap, but I said, it’s our hobby! He laughed, and we did get out of there for under $40. So many tempting items. The most gorgeous Berkshire pork chops I’ve ever seen, but we didn’t get any. It’s only a 30-minute drive, so we can go back.

We love Molinari pepperoni, which is hard to find. We also love anchovies on pizza and Caesar salads, and Dale has been wanting to try salt-packed anchovies for a long time. Bingo! There they were. Another impulse buy were these little Tarallini crackers with garlic oil and hot red pepper. We opened them and ate them in the car on the way home. Yum.

Amazon Returns

Have you returned anything to Amazon lately? I have had an unusual number of returns over the past week, and everything is different. It seems they don’t want you printing labels anymore. Larger items still have to be boxed and sealed, but others don’t even require the original packaging. They send you a code, the UPS person scans it and you’re done. You also have the option of returning it unpackaged to a participating Kohl’s.

It’s fine, change is good, blah, blah, blah, but you have to be careful to make the right choices when you start clicking around. I accidentally clicked Kohl’s … it may have even defaulted to that. But I thought I selected UPS drop-off and found out the hard way I goofed.

I had to come home, cancel the return and then start over. I also had an item that was free if I did the code, but there was a shipping charge if you printed the label. My only other beef is that I liked just dropping off the package. Now I have to wait in line, but it does go fast.  

It’s a small world after all

I always love small world stories, and I think they are even more special as we get older. My friend, Lisa, and her partner run a restaurant on Long Island. I’ve known Lisa 30 years but haven’t seen her in maybe 15. We catch up on the phone every so often. She was trying to reach me while I was in Reno, but I wasn’t paying attention to my messages. We finally connected, and here’s the story.

She and her partner have friends who frequent the restaurant, and they brought along another couple, Warren and Barbara, who were visiting from out of town. When the restaurant quieted down, Lisa joined them for a glass of port. As she was getting to know them, they discovered common ground. Warren spent years working for the Army in Germany. She knew someone who worked for the Army in Germany. She lived in Cairo. He knew someone who once lived in Cairo.

Soon enough they discovered they both knew me! Warren was my first boss after college, when I worked as a civilian in an Army public affairs office. He was a great boss – and a delightful friend – but I haven’t connected with him in years. It’s hard when you move around so much but always a pleasure to find each other again one way or the other.

Do you have a small world story? Why do you think they are special?

This week in golf history – I shot an 85 in a tournament with rules, witnesses and everything. The highlight was a 39 on the front nine. It was a transcendental experience. I think the last time I scored that low on nine holes was sometime in the early 2000s.

The day before the tournament, I went out as a single on a different course, just to get my mojo going. I played with a threesome – a husband and wife in their late 50s and their new son-in-law. The SIL was a strapping lad who could hit the ball 300 yards – straight into the trees. It was painful to watch.

The couple was quite charming, and I was even thinking about swapping phone numbers so we could stay in touch. Mike, as we will call him, was a good but sporadic player. I mean, aren’t we all? I think he was trying to show off for the SIL, but he kept chunking it.

As we made the turn to hole 10, it’s like something switched, and Mike became angry and violent. Every other word was f-this, f-this effing game, and I don’t mean in a low muttering way as might be heard from my lips occasionally. This was loud and scary, and then he started throwing clubs. Flinging them across the fairway.

I never said a word. Just tried to stay out of his way. As proven by my personal medical history, I am tough to kill, but I try not to make it easy for anyone.

They seemed embarrassed and scooted off quickly at the end. No time to exchange phone numbers, thank goodness. I thought about my own temperament, and while I’ve never tossed a club, I have been known to call myself horrible names and get in a funk after a poor round.

I’ve worked hard to stay calm and remember even poor shots and horrible lies are part of a game I like to play. Key words: game, play.

Maybe I should go back and find club-flinging Mike. He said he recently retired from Silicon Valley and was still wired. I know a thing or two about that, but here I am in my second year of retirement, new and improved, and ready to offer a few lessons on the lost art of chill.

Mermaids

This Washington Post article about mermaids intrigued me. A different time, a different place, and I could see me living the mermaid lifestyle. I’ve always loved the water and spent hours playing in waves at the beach, but my idea of heaven was a public pool. Or even better: the pool at a Motel 6. We didn’t have water parks like they do now. I’ve still never been to a water park, and it is sort of on my bucket list. Do they have adults-only days?

I found the picture above in an old photo album. That’s my mother’s handwriting. I grew up in southern California. Fullerton, to be specific. There was a public swimming complex called Jimmy Smith’s. The photo might have been taken there, but I’m not sure. I kind of remember the wooden structures.

By the way, they sell mermaid tails on Amazon. Of course, they do.

Hiking vs Walking

I’ve been begging Dale to join me on walks, but he always refuses. I finally asked, what would it take? He said one word. Hike. Oh, there’s a difference.

Apparently, the beautiful trails in our neighborhood don’t scratch his itch. He wants to see new stuff all the time. More wilderness. OK, I said, game on. I purchased books on local day hikes, and we’ve been going out once a week. Dale hurt his knee recently, so we’re taking it slow.

Knowing us, Dale would be happy with moderate hikes, while I am likely to focus on building our endurance so we can do harder treks. One thing we agree on. Day hikes only. Home by happy hour.

Dale has been using my cannabis balm on his knee with great success. I swear it’s the only thing that keeps my body moving. I added the recipe to a new section on the blog called Downloads. I also added a little one-pager I’m calling the Aging Badass Credo. My attempt to capture the essence of what I believe contributes to a happy and healthy retirement.

I saw this sign on the back of a truck when I was driving home from golf. Stopped for a red light anyway, so I snapped a picture through the windshield.

Food

Whipped from walking 18 holes of golf two days in a row, I am happy to stay home and hang around the house today. Dale made breakfast tacos with his Mexican-style chorizo made from scratch, scrambled eggs and homemade salsa verde. Delicious! When my mother found out he could cook, she said, “Keep him.”

Contrary to my last post, it’s clear Dale is quite motivated. Just depends on what it is. I hope everyone knows I write about our spats in the spirit of fun. Even if we were angry at the time, the stories make us laugh. If I were really mad at him, I certainly wouldn’t whine about it in public. I’d take a more devious approach.

I’ve been making the Jim Lahey no-knead bread with great success and wanted a “heartier” loaf, so I combined a couple of recipes from Jim and others I found online. We had oats, barley, sesame seeds and sunflower seeds, so I was good there. Jim’s recipe called for flax seeds. I didn’t have any, so I used hemp seeds, which is a so-called superfood I use for soup and in my granola.

The last ingredient needed was millet, which I didn’t have. I was rummaging through the shelves, when I found an almost empty bag of farro, a grain I’ve used in soup. I figured it would work as a substitute, but in hindsight, I’m not so sure.

I haven’t made the soup in awhile, but as I recall, farro took a long time to cook. The bread was delicious although a bit crunchy. As in maybe tooth-cracking crunchy. I attribute that to the farro. Dale named the bread Colon Blow, so obviously, I’ll be working to refine the recipe. He said next time leave out the rocks and marbles.

Measles

I’ve been reading about the measles outbreak and began to wonder about my own immunity. I researched it, and it turns out if you actually had measles, you are immune for life. With certain vaccinations, you may need a booster.

Good news, as I had measles when I was a child. I asked Dale if he had measles, and he said yes, remember, I had shingles? It appears one doesn’t get shingles if one hasn’t had measles. But I had no recollection of him having shingles.

You? Shingles? When? He said when we lived in Columbia, S.C. Remember that patch on my arm? I’m like, what, those baby shingles? You’re counting that? All he said was, “Yeah, well, I’m sorry I didn’t die.” Then we laughed.

We’ve both since had the shingles vaccine, but Shingrix is a new one they are recommending even if you’ve had the first one. It’s not cheap. But apparently even baby shingles are terrible.

Correction: In the comments section, a reader let me know there is a relationship between shingles and chicken pox … not measles.

DIY Pedi

I did not get my first pedicure until I was at least 40. It cracks me up now, how this is so routine in today’s beauty culture. I feel like an old lady bragging about walking to school barefoot in the snow, but these young girls have no idea what it was like to live with poorly groomed feet.

Gave up getting my toes painted when I was swimming a lot. Chlorine took its toll. I still got regular pedicures, but I had them buffed shiny. They usually charge an extra $5 because it’s so hard to use arm muscles, I guess. But the results are worth it. Bonus … you can get out of there faster because you don’t have to wait for your toes to dry.

Because I go minimalist, I don’t need a pedicure often. I’ve been going about every six weeks to about $30 a pop. Yes, it’s chump change, but it’s pretty much wasted chump change, since they aren’t doing anything I can’t do myself. I rather embrace the role of frugal retiree.

This week I got out my tools and went to work. No pictures for your protection, but they look pretty good to me. I may go to the salon for a special occasion, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be sticking with the DIY Pedi.

A Fan

I love unusual names with a certain ring to them. There’s no set of criteria, other than it just pops out at me as a great name. I’ll see one, and say, “I’d change my name to that.” It’s an ongoing joke at our house.

One of my all-time favorites is Fan Bingbing. Who wouldn’t change their name to that? I’m pleased to report the Chinese actress has reappeared after a year’s absence.

You may have noticed in my posts I try to focus on a theme and tell some sort of a story rather can describe my week or day or whatever. I think of this blog as a column, the old-fashioned kind we used to read in newspapers.

However, there are times when I am inclined to ramble, and change is good. Introducing “Rambling Thursday.”

I’m not selling coasters on Etsy. I can’t think of a way to earn enough money to make it worth my while. I enjoy the art. As I’ve said many times before, I hope those days of trading time for money are gone. If I had to, I would, but our finances look good for the long-term.

AND – if I had to work, it would be a jobby job. Something to make ends meet. No purpose, no passion. Pray there would be no meetings, no team building, no performance appraisals, no sociopaths. None of those “if you can dream it, you can have it” bosses.

What a demanding list of priorities! I’m clearly unsuitable for work. I have some highly amusing stories about the insanity of the workplace, but I probably won’t tell them for a while. I’m not sure how to do it without getting sued. Plus, thinking about it gives me bad dreams.

Death by PowerPoint

I had the dreaded work dream this week. This time I had an armful of binders, and I kept dropping them (dropping stuff is a recurrent theme). The binders are probably related to a job when I was kind of like chief of staff to an executive. He had to present quarterly results to corporate, and one of my tasks was to build the presentation. And then travel to headquarters for the big event.

For whatever reason, we couldn’t just do this thing electronically. I had 17 binders to schlep. If I could fly with the executive on the company plane, it was easier. But sometimes that didn’t work out, so I flew commercial. I’d check a small bag with my clothes and fill a carry-on bag with the binders. God forbid they should get lost.

Sometimes the finance folks made last-minute changes, and I’d get new charts when I landed. I had just enough time to print new charts and “slip sheets.” Then I had to transport said binders to the conference room at exactly the right moment. Not too early, not too late. It sounds like entry-level work, but I was actually a director. I had a suitcase with wheels, but still, a 50-something gray-haired woman rolling that through HQ drew unwanted attention.

Coasters, I can’t quit you

I’m maybe taking a break from crafting coasters, as I don’t have a solid plan for what to do with them. There are a few ideas rolling around in my head. I thought, what if I change the theme and focus on cats? I love cats as much as I love beer. Easy switch. I could then donate the coasters to a cat shelter, and they could sell them to raise funds. Aren’t I the decent human being? If there was a beer shelter, I’d be golden.

I contacted the local cat shelter, but I haven’t heard back. I may never – I mean, they don’t know me. I realize I should probably volunteer and get to know them before suggesting this idea, but I don’t want to volunteer at a cat shelter, so there’s that. I’ve been working on cat designs just in case.

Whilst researching crafting opportunities, I spent a good deal of time reading about other charitable efforts. Most involve sewing and needle crafts for homeless shelters, hospitals, etc. Sewing is not my thing, but one never knows. My sister is a talented fabric artist, and we have genetic proof we really are sisters, so maybe there’s something inside me yet revealed.