This will be a short post because I’ve been screwing around all afternoon trying to get this image set up so when you click on it, a light box pops up, and you can see the details. How hard should that be? It might work … try it!
I messed around with the gallery, too. Hopefully an improvement, but my brain is fried at this point.
I’m excited to share this latest sample of my pallet art. I hope it’s not too boring. My goal is part show-and-tell and part inspiration. I had absolutely no interest in art prior to retirement, and now it’s becoming a big part of my life. I even dream about it and wake up with new ideas.
In this example, I drew all the images with a pencil first. Mainly because there’s a lot of layering … and it’s easy to mess that up in real time. Then I burned in all the pencil lines with my woodburning tool. After all the burning was done, I used a combination of standard pencils and oil-based pencils to add color. Finally, I sealed it with two layers of spray-on varnish.
My favorite one so far! For some reason, I’ve become addicted to Tejano music with lots of accordions. I dedicate this piece to Flaco Jiménez, one of the best accordionists in the business. His music keeps me burning.
I was preparing for locusts when the fires came. The fires are a good distance from us. We are safe, but the air quality is terrible. We weren’t going anywhere anyway. Now we’re hermetically sealed. I haven’t been outside in days.
Key words: We are safe.
Nothing to complain about. Many indoor amusements.
Art (or something like it)
I’m still having fun with my woodburning art. If nothing else, it’s a wonderful distraction while spending days on end at home. I didn’t want to clutter up the house with my masterpieces, so my completed projects are hanging in the garage until I decide what to do with them.
I asked a friend to look at my online gallery and pick out one for herself. She chose my favorite one so far! I used oil-based pencils for the deep, bold colors and standard colored pencils for areas with subtle shading. I love the range of reds and yellows, which she said will complement her living room furniture.
Pallet scrap burned and embellished with a combination of oil-based pencils and standard colored pencils.
I’m experimenting with a new technique on my current piece. I’ve used an acrylic paint glaze to color the larger areas, and now I’m adding a background design with burned-in dots. The glaze is sort of rustic looking, and I even sanded a little bit over it to roughen it up more. The glazing process is time-consuming, but I seem to have plenty of time on my hands.
Work in progress — the blots are colored with an acrylic glaze, and I’m adding a dotted pattern in the background.
Books & TV
On the entertainment front, I’ve been watching Anne with an E on Netflix. There are only three seasons, and I will be sad when it ends. Total escapism. The series is based on the Anne of Green Gables books, which I never read as a child. Sometimes childhood classics don’t hold up when you read them as an adult, but I still might give the series a try.
I’ve also found some books only seem to be written for children or young adults. I read all the Tarzan books in my 20s and loved them. Just so you know, Jane was badass! Other children’s books I’ve read as an adult include the Harry Potter novels, A Wrinkle in Time and The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane. I also love the Stuart Little and Paddington Bear movies.
There’s something simple and healing about stories for young audiences. I might just make a regular thing of it. Do you have any favorite children’s books or movies you’ve enjoyed as an adult?
Food
As a foodie, I highly recommend the Food Network series, Amy Schumer Learns to Cook. She and her chef husband are quite the opposites and hilarious together. He likes to cook with fennel, and her reactions are priceless.
We went on another Mexican kick this week. Sometimes we just can’t stop ourselves. Dale made carnitas one night, I made chicken tacos another. Oh, and a dish I jokingly call huevos dineros. It’s my twisted version of huevos rancheros amped up for dinner. A crisp corn tortilla topped with homemade chili sauce, Cheddar cheese and a runny fried egg, accompanied by shredded iceberg lettuce, tomatoes, sliced avocados and a dollop of sour cream.
Today I’m making an overnight no-knead dough that will magically produce baguettes tomorrow. We’ll have those with a ripe Brie, Italian cold cuts and maybe some smoked salmon. Greens on the side. My sister sent us a beautiful assortment of balsamic vinegar, which will certainly have an important role in this meal.
Today’s dinner is unknown at this point, but we swore an oath it will be vegetable-centric to make up for the excesses we enjoyed earlier in the week.
I started the year with only one goal and added another one in March. I hate it when that happens. Let’s hope having two goals isn’t the first step down the slippery slope to having three or even more, as I consider myself the queen slacker, the face of resistance to over-engineering retirement.
As an avid golfer, my first goal was to break 80 this year. I’ve only been at it for 20 years, so the time was right. Bingo! I shot 79 a couple of weeks ago, so that’s done. I guess that technically means I’m back to having one goal. The path should be clear for my return to mediocre golf.
My other goal is to survive the pandemic. So far, so good.
I retired from a job where everything was documented in quarterly reports and dashboards. That’s the last thing I want to do in retirement. Although I am handy with a spreadsheet, these days I use technology to help me with recreational activities! Here’s a selection from my files:
Reading list
Local Golf Courses I Can Walk
Cannabis Field Notes
Streaming List
Road Trips
What else is the queen slacker up to? Dale bought lobsters yesterday, and we had lobster rolls for dinner. I had leftover lobster salad on a toasted English muffin for breakfast. I drank strong coffee and scanned the news.
Did some puzzles and walked for about an hour. It seems like we spent the morning thinking about dinner. But I spent much of my career thinking about dinner, so that’s nothing new.
Dale’s making a dish we call Schnitzel on a Stick. He pounds a bone-in pork chop thin and then breads it and fries it in lard, which is actually better for you than butter. Also high in taste. Please don’t judge too harshly – there will be broccoli.
Speaking of animal fats, today we had a unique challenge that required my undivided attention for, oh, I’d say 30 minutes.
Mission bacon.
One of our favorite pork products – Wright Thick Sliced Hickory Smoked Bacon – has been increasingly difficult to find, but Amazon Fresh has it, so I stepped up to the plate and put together an online order for delivery later today. Who says I’m not busy?
Although I’m not scared of mediocre golf, I practiced putting on a matt out in the garage. A little music to go with. The Last Waltz. The Band.
As I was working on this post, Dale was at his computer reading the news, and he told me Joe Biden announced his running mate is Kamala Harris.
We like Kamala and think she’s a good choice, but Dale was upset because Joe didn’t tell him first. Dale’s like, you give a candidate some money and you expect more. I said, here’s the thing, Dale, I think Joe expected more money.
Still, we are proud to do our part and are ever hopeful a new day is coming.
A pallet scrap burned and colored. I like the coppery tones. A darker piece of pallet scrap burned and colored. A little moodier, perhaps?
Optometrist
I went to the optometrist. Although I’m glad I went, it was the most uncomfortable I’ve felt in months.
My appointment was the first of the day. Masks required. Someone came outside and took my temperature with one of those remote gun-things. He asked me questions about fever, cough, etc. I passed the first test.
I was invited in and directed to wash my hands at a sink down the hallway. I did that. Then all the testing began. I signed up for two extra tests not covered by insurance, because I have weird things in my eyes (drusen) that could morph into macular degeneration at some point.
The doctor was thorough and made a small change to the progressive part of my prescription. She was reviewing test results from the fancy machines and wanted one of the images redone. I had to go back to another room, and at one point, it was me and three employees.
Other than Dale, it was the closest I’ve been to anyone since this whole business started, and I found myself trying to crawl into the wall. I didn’t say anything, mostly because it was over quick.
Then I went out into the optical area, where I was still the only patient allowed inside. I wanted my sunglasses replaced exactly as is – new frames but the same brand and style, same coatings, etc. So, that was easy. The technician asked me what I wanted in new regular frames, and I said something similar to what I have now.
She took me over to a wall and explained everything I tried on would be put into a basket for disinfecting. She pulled out the first pair, and I loved them. They are perfect. It was the fastest I’ve ever picked out frames in my life!
Now it’s a waiting game. Surprise – she said orders are taking longer than normal.
Artistic Endeavors
I’m continuing my relentless pursuit of nothing much in particular. I finished two more woodburning pieces and have started adding photos to my gallery. I still don’t know what I’ll do with these creations, but there they are.
Although I’m a novice at all artistic endeavors, I put it out there for you to see partly because it helps validate my experience … as in, yes, I am really doing this. It’s not perfect, but that’s OK. I also want to show how retirement activities evolve. Sometimes it feels like anything is possible.
I splurged on fancy colored pencils. They just came yesterday, so I haven’t had a chance to try them out yet. The cheapo ones are fine for now.
climbing mountains
On the entertainment front, I watched a movie on Amazon Prime called, “Edie.” It’s about an 83-year-old woman in England who feels she wasted her life and now wants to climb a mountain in Scotland. It made me wonder about the definition of a wasted life.
Unlike Edie, I’ve gone after almost everything I wanted in life. However, in the grand scheme of things, I haven’t accomplished much. I consider making enough money to retire my greatest achievement. And here I am approaching 65, piddling around and relishing in simple pleasures.
I guess you could say the slacker retirement model works for me … at least for now. I am the happiest I’ve been. I don’t miss my career. I enjoy how I spend my time on the planet. Of course, the go-go model is another option, but I see that as just another race, only the rats are different.
But never say never. I suspect we experience different phases throughout retirement. Three years in, I might still be in my nesting phase, but something might switch over, and I’ll wake up wanting to climb that mountain. If we’re lucky, we get to make choices along the way.
I asked Dale what he thought, and his response was so profound I immediately ran to get a piece of paper and pen to write it down, but by the time I returned, we could barely reconstruct what he said. It was something like this:
If you can do what makes you happy and help people along the way, then that is a life well-lived.
Today is Wednesday, and normally I would be playing golf in my weekly league. However, last Wednesday, I played so well on the front nine that I felt physically ill trying to live up to my short-lived reputation on the back nine.
The league is not exactly high-stakes competition, but there’s a point system and bragging rights. I got ahead of myself and started feeling over-confident … thinking about the win instead of staying centered and enjoying the game. I decided to take a break. Time to stop and smell the goose poop.
Much to my surprise, I find myself wanting to be more sociable. As an introvert and dedicated homebody, I really thought I could go forever without talking to anyone. I was actually delighted when the clubhouse closed in response to the pandemic.
Now I’m thinking, gee, I don’t know. Life is pretty hard, and who knows how this will all end? What’s wrong with a little party before the lights go out or come on again? Even when reality sucks, can we not find a way to celebrate the moment?
The very idea of being sociable is all speculative at this point, but I can see it happening. Dale is desperate to talk to someone other than me, so I’m pretty sure he’s on board.
Until such time, we continue to party in small ways by cooking and eating well. The chana masala I made was absolutely fantastic, but the naan wasn’t very good. The bread was too cracker-like. I want to try again with a different recipe.
The backyard tomato harvest is on. We had Greek salads – coarsely chopped tomatoes, cucumbers and onions. Garnished with feta cheese and a few Kalamata olives. Dressed with good olive oil and red wine vinegar. A spray of oregano. Dale’s homemade bread for dunking.
We repurposed the bread for BLTs – always delicious with homegrown tomatoes. Then tostadas. A crisply fried corn tortilla topped with mashed black beans, cheddar cheese, lettuce, onions, tomatoes and guacamole.
BTW – I do the NY Times mini crossword puzzle every day. One of the clues this week was an ingredient in guacamole. The answer was onion. I say no! That’s crazy talk. Avocado, lime, salt and a hint of garlic powder.
Onions in guacamole. Yes or no? Your vote matters.
Whenever Dale roasts a whole chicken, we freeze the carcass. I had two carcasses, so I made stock yesterday. I splash some olive oil in a stock pan and add a rough chop of celery, onions and carrots. Sweat those out and add the chicken. Cover with water. Plop in a little cheesecloth sack stuffed with fresh parsley. Simmer for three hours. Strain and freeze.
I don’t eat on the mornings when I play golf, so we celebrated my day off with one slice of bacon each, toast made from Dale’s homemade bread and eggs scrambled in the bacon fat. I recognize we had bacon earlier in the week, and I apologize for setting a bad example.
We’ve been eating outside. Music, food and drink. That might cure what ails you. I invented a refreshing dessert perfect for al fresco dining. I’m calling it an ice wine slushie. You probably don’t have ice wine sitting around, but somehow, we accumulated several bottles.
Start with 13 ounces of ice wine. Add 3/4 cup of water and six tablespoons of sugar. Simmer for two minutes in a saucepan, cool, and then put it in an ice cream machine. It doesn’t freeze solid, so I put it in a shot glass, and you take a little sip as the sorbet melts.
The flavor is unbelievable, and it’s a thoroughly pleasant way to end a meal. Then when it gets dark, we take a dip in the pool. Swimsuits optional.
Yes, we’re taking time to smell the goose poop, enjoying our simple pleasures and practicing for the parties in our future. How are you celebrating the moment?
My Chopped basket. I think I’ll make pesto and homemade pasta!
Today is one of those days where everything feels hard. It seems like everyone out there is mad at everyone else. The news is horrible. I go for a walk, and I have to dodge people left and right to keep six feet away. And, oh, if I want my favorite masks for golf tomorrow, I’d better run another load of wash. I had an appointment to swim laps, but I canceled. Swimming has become such an ordeal.
I decided to stay home. Isn’t that crazy? It seems like most people are itching to go out and do normal things, but sometimes I think we still need a respite from the madness. For me, it means retreating to what’s comfortable. Simple pleasures.
First thing’s first. Lunch. While I eat mostly healthy unprocessed food, I do love me some Cheez Whiz on fresh celery. I’ve been quite the cookie monster lately, so that was my meal, but a tasty one it was. Lunch at home always seems like such an indulgence after years of poking down something at work. It’s actually one of my favorite things about retirement. Well, and breakfast.
Have your lunch habits changed since you retired? I hope you are enjoying something delicious …
Next step was downloading what is turning out to be a pretty good book about hiking the Appalachian Trail. A little armchair travel is good for the soul. I don’t actually want to hike the AT, but I love to walk and am always looking for inspiration. Over the years, I’ve given a lot of thought to doing some sort of long walk, but I have so many caveats I usually give up.
In the Great Big Picture Book of things that scare me about a long walk, here they are in no particular order:
Peeing
Cliffs and drop-offs
Wild animals
Pooping
Murderers
Rapists
Bad knees
Bad back
Weather
Sleeping
Eating
Social distancing
That’s just for starters. For now, I’m gradually increasing my mileage with the idea of doing a long day hike that starts after breakfast and ends before happy hour. That seems doable.
Dinner is always a topic of high interest at our house. Since I decided to avoid the world today, I wanted to cook. I was going to make Chana Masala, but we didn’t have all the ingredients. And it’s not like going to the store is easy.
However, we did have some lovely basil from the garden, so I’m making pesto. I’m also making pasta from scratch. I’ve made pasta before with great success, but I don’t do it enough to feel as though I’ve mastered it. I always make sure we have back-up pasta.
That should get me through the day. And it’s Tuesday! Chopped night on the Food channel. Thank you, universe.
On the right is my newest attempt at art or something like it … woodburning on a pallet scrap. Left is an older experiment on wood with acrylic paint.A close-up of my woodburned doodles.
I saw a headline whereupon Dr. Fauci said normalcy is unlikely until next year – and I thought, “Wow! Only a year? That’s nothing.” In the Army, we used to say we could stand on our heads for that long. And doodling. I’ve got that going for me.
My county has some of the lowest infection rates in California. Still, Dale and I are more vigilant than most. The fitness center re-opened with lots of restrictions … all meeting with my complete approval. They don’t call me the sanitation marshal for nothing.
Lap swimming resumed by appointment only. I went Saturday and am going again today. I wear a mask as I enter and leave the facility, do not use the locker room and change out of my suit from underneath my swim poncho.
I’ve started limiting the amount of time I spend using my computer and cell phone … partly because I don’t think it’s healthy to stare at a screen all day. Seems like I would have learned that from work! Here I am retired, doing the same damned thing. I’m also paying less attention to the news.
It turns out I can stay informed without subjecting myself to electric shocks every 20 minutes.
More time outdoors
While avoiding the blue screens, I’m spending more outdoors. Golf has always kept me outside for long periods of time, and that’s a good thing. In addition to my regular schedule of walking, Dale and I resumed our weekly hikes, which were abandoned earlier in the pandemic.
The weather has been great, and I thought, why not read a book outside under the beach umbrella? A little staycation. I’m starting to go through our treasure trove of cookbooks and discover recipes we overlooked the first time around.
Growing cannabis
I’m working to up my game as a gentlewoman cannabis farmer. My last batch was disappointing. Didn’t look right, didn’t smoke right. No potency. Perhaps I had beginner’s luck with my first grow, but I think something was wrong with this seed. Hence the name – bad seed.
I have two plants growing. One was outdoors, but I got worried about pests and brought it in. They are propped together by the window sharing the LED light, and I can only assume that’s not good. But I guess I’ll ride this out to the end.
Part of the problem is I’m growing ruderalis, which is an autoflowering plant that is easier to grow but not particularly robust. I’d like to try growing a sativa/indica hybrid. One plant can yield a year’s worth of pot. But to grow a plant like that indoors, you have to trigger the flowering stage, which means at some point I have to create a place where the plant can have 12 hours of total darkness.
I’m not much of a gardener, so I’d like to keep this simple. And inexpensive. Of course, what did I spy with my little eye but a fancy and beautiful contraption that would be perfect, especially if you live in a place where you have to hide it. Only $2,000! Dale said that buys a lot of weed at the cannabis dispensary.
I’m thinking a cheap grow tent that doesn’t do anything but block out light when I need that. I don’t want to invest in hydroponics, fans, dehumidifiers, etc. I’m still reading up on my options. What is it they say, cannabis is not addicting but growing it is?
Art that says, “I was here.”
Finally, you might recall I scavenged a wood pallet from a neighbor’s pile of debris. Dale broke it up for me. I got this idea that maybe it would be fun to get started in woodburning. I researched it online and then got an inexpensive ( $25) woodburning tool for beginners.
When I first started this project, I thought I should try to work through any emotions I had associated with the pandemic. It turns out I don’t have any! At least not now. It is what it is. Science. Reality.
I don’t know how to draw real things, but I used to doodle spirals all the time during online meetings at work. I sanded the wood scrap and then started in on the spirals, later filling it in with tiny dots. Two coats of spray-on varnish. Nailed it to the fence as an embellishment and plan to make more, some with paint and color to add variety.
Dale said it reminded him of primitive cave drawings. Not particularly artistic, but enough to say, “I was here.”
Some say you should never throw away anything you ever wrote. I’ve taken a different path. Over the years and many moves, I’ve whittled down my stockpile of journals and published writing to one large tub. I periodically go through it and purge stuff I no longer want to keep.
I’ve purchased many lovely notebooks, but I as a diarist, I was inconsistent at best. Most notebooks had a few pages of scribbling about my sad woes and then many blank pages. After skimming through the entries and seeing nothing of consequence, I ripped those pages out for the recycling bin but saved the notebooks.
While I don’t journal, I do keep a notebook on my desk for working projects, so I shouldn’t need to buy anymore notebooks ever.
One thing I did notice and kept was a poem about Christmas I wrote in my late teens. Apparently, I’ve hated Christmas for a long time. In a way, that makes me feel better. It’s not like I made it up in mid-life. I was born this way.
I found a few paragraphs of a short story. I tried to write fiction years ago and quit, coming to perhaps a false realization that I don’t have it in me. Maybe it’s the quarantine talking, but I saw some potential. Not world-class literature, for sure, but I kind of want to know the back story and what happens next.
The bahnhof was cold, as they usually are, and damp, as I knew it would be. I could already feel the fever coming on, but we had a couple of hours to kill before the train left. I needed a drink, and I needed a book and Richard had already decided to be difficult.
Why didn’t we rent a car and drive, he wanted to know. But of course, he knew. It was the train. I needed to be on that train. There was no other option.
I left Richard with the bags and walked to the international store. I bought a cheap porno book for 12 marks and a murder mystery, both in English. Then I found a bar and settled in. It was going to be a long night.
Literary poetry has always sort of baffled me. But I did like writing straightforward poems that rhymed. Interestingly, I found my own little masterpiece about hating work – dated 1974! I had barely started working and was already sick of it. I kept that one, too.
The poem itself is pretty awful, so I’ll spare you that. But there I was at 19, wishing I could just quit worrying about making a living and enjoying life without goals or aims. I’m giving myself props for hanging in there.
It took 40 years, but I kind of achieved my dream. No big plans. My full-time job is to take care of myself, be kind to others and enjoy life’s simple pleasures. I golf, walk, swim laps, cook, read, write, watch TV, listen to music, take care of the house, grow cannabis and otherwise goof off. While I’m not the sort to show up at a protest march, another focus is to support progressive causes.
Everyone’s vision of retirement is different. Mine has certainly evolved, even from when I started this blog two-plus years ago. As I told a friend, I might find goals within the categories of things I like to do, but I’m not out to reinvent myself or my life. I’m happy just being.
An interesting book for those who are contemplating how happiness is relevant in a world gone mad is Yes to Life: In Spite of Everything by Viktor E. Frankl.
Just published for the first time in English, the author was a Holocaust survivor who lectured on the importance of embracing life even in the face of adversity. It’s not a breezy read, but there are some genuine nuggets.
A piece of bench I scavenged from last year’s fire on stand-by for a yard art project.
An arachnoid presence
While you have been studying Renaissance art or harvesting yeast from the backyard, I’ve been busy doing important things like playing an epic game of Spider Solitaire.
For those who are familiar with Spider, I play with four suits and choose only games at the Grandmaster level. I have one goal – win all games. Purists will have to close their eyes, but that means I use the undo feature with wild abandon. Since adopting this approach, I have not lost a game.
My last attempt was a test of moral strength. Undo, undo, undo. Nothing I tried was working. The game automatically saves, so I’d just close it after a good butt-kicking and then go back to it the next day. I am proud to say I won it yesterday after – hold the applause please – 33 hours, 14 minutes and 23 seconds.
Spider is a good way to waste time, but I like to believe it’s also good for the brain and soul. If you believe all games are winnable, then you keep going until you win. Sometimes my original assumptions don’t hold up, and I have to abandon them for new strategies that are often counter-intuitive. Are there parallels between Spider and real life?
Yes. In the words of the Canadian philosopher, Corey Hart, Never Surrender.
More yard art, please
Now that my brain is freed up from the tyranny of Spider, I’m starting a new art project. Many of you know I’m not much of an artist, but I’ve been experimenting in retirement and boldly display my work here. I’m particularly fond of Gladys, the sun goddess I rescued from heaps of rust. Her smiling face watches over us.
I have this piece of bench from the fire a year or so ago (when all those cute firemen showed up). This is actually my neighbor’s debris that I scavenged from a pile headed for the dump. While creating beauty seems like a natural antidote for our current reality, I’m open to ugly.
This morning, I woke up thinking whatever I do with this piece of bench will somehow be an expression of my feelings about the pandemic. I have no idea what that means in terms of a deliverable, as we used to say at work, but I’m going to try and let my emotions flow.
Less whining, more wine
We drove out to our favorite Amador County winery. The tasting room isn’t open, but someone is there, and you can purchase bottles. We were only going to get six, but all wine was 40 percent off, so we doubled that. We wore masks, and they added a plastic shield over the wine bar, so it seemed like a pretty benign process.
I asked the guy who works there what phase they were in as far as opening, and he just laughed. No idea.
Golf or something like it
I’ve decided golf is reasonably safe, at least the way I do it … only courses where I can walk with my personal pushcart. I have three masks at the ready. One for the beginning, when people are waiting to tee off. One for the turn, when I use the restroom. And one for the end, when people are gathered in the parking lot. I steer clear of everyone and keep hand sanitizer in my bag.
The CDC is saying the virus isn’t easily spread through surfaces, so that’s promising. But just in case, I grabbed a stack of scorecards with a tissue and took them home to “cool off” in the garage.
I played with the women’s league last Wednesday. My favorite guy was at the cash register and asked me how things were going. I said, “Oh, you know, living the dream, drinking the bleach.” We had a good low-emission chuckle (not the bad droplet-spreading laugh).
During play, I had to ask one of my partners to back off. She looked at me with surprise, like I was making this up. She said, “Do you know anyone who has the virus?”
My response?
“No, but I’ve had cancer twice, and I know what it’s like to be sick and face death. I’m not taking any chances.”
In conclusion
I continue to be amazed by all the conspiracy theories floating around about this virus. I wonder if people believe this stuff because no one believes the news anymore, and science is for sissies.
One thing confirmed for me through this pandemic is that we are in big trouble when everything you know you read on Facebook. The anti-intellectuals seem to be winning.
I’m no stable genius, but I’m starting to think basic intelligence is my super power.
As a retiree and semi-recluse, the “stay at home” mandate has not been much of a problem. I don’t even have to create excuses anymore. Years ago, I might have said, “I have to wash my hair.” Now I would probably say, “I have to cut my hair.” Not so different after all.
While the weight of the pandemic hits me at odd moments and leaves me feeling sad and angry, most of the time I’m pretty chill. I don’t have a big agenda and don’t monitor my productivity. Aside from chores, I pretty much focus on the simple pleasures that make me happy … reading, walking, cooking, movies and TV.
I’ve started to play a little golf and have fielded a few invitations. This was my response to the latest:
I’m erring on the side of caution and only playing on courses I know reasonably well, where I can walk and where they have documented procedures for reduced touch points, increased social distancing, modified rules, etc. Since I haven’t played that course before, I’ll have to pass this time around. But thanks for thinking of me! I’m open to other courses.
I’ve got my cannabis plant to nurse along, and I have been doing some light handheld weights since the gym closed, but it’s not like I’m not learning to speak Swahili or alphabetizing the appliance manuals. Most of our groceries we order online for curbside pick-up, but we have started to go into the store about every two weeks. We wear masks and try to get in and out of there quickly without any close encounters of the worst kind.
In some ways I feel more peaceful, living day-to-day and trying not to think about the future. Honestly, our highest priority is food and booze, so we do have to plan ahead, but I’ve actually become fond of online shopping. We eat just about everything … nothing diet, not too much and we make almost everything from scratch.
I read where the NY Times health columnist Jane Brody treats herself to ¼ cup of light ice cream, and possibly a graham cracker, and I just can’t get that out of my head. How miserable is that?
People are itchy to go back to normal. I will go out on a limb and suggest some people have different ideas about how this virus behaves, they don’t believe it’s as bad as all that or they are willing to take their chances. Others absolutely need to get back out there and earn a living.
Even as economies open, Dale and I have decided we’re not going to be the guinea pigs. Being retired is a privilege, an earned privilege for sure, but we have the ability to stay home and will continue to do our best to ride this out in safety.
