Kids, don’t try this at home

I will be 70 in a couple of weeks, and I’ll just say this. It’s not getting any easier.

As you may recall, I am religious about my strengthening exercises. I timed my routine the other day, and it takes me about an hour to do them all. Some days it feels like a lifetime, so I was surprised. An hour? That’s not too much to ask.

I’ve made incredible progress in the 17 months I’ve been at it, and I got a little carried away this week showing Dale how good I am at squats. Admittedly, this was after a couple of beers and The Clash blasting on the turntable.

Let me be the first to tell you party squats are never a good idea. Kids, don’t try this at home.

Everything seemed OK, but the next morning I was loading the dishwasher and pow! My back went out. It’s not too terrible, but I’m taking a week off from golf and trying to remember gentle is good.

I picked a perfect week to be stupid, as we are headed for several days of triple-digit weather.

What I’m Watching

I just finished The Hunting Wives on Netflix. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen anywhere. A nice Boston girl moves to Texas with her husband and gets mixed up with a secretive group of wealthy women with guns.

Sleazy beyond compare, the husbands make money but are otherwise worthless, the women are vicious (although very much enjoying sex with each other) and the scene featuring one of the male-female couples having their version of sex still haunts me. Some things I just didn’t need to know.

While no one would compare this to Masterpiece Theatre, I found it strangely addictive. There’s a murder mystery in the midst of all that sex, and our poor Boston girl is somehow caught up in the middle of all that, so it’s not just about the kink.

The end was a complete shocker, and there’s something to be said for the art of surprise.

Next up was The Thursday Murder Club, which premiered on Netflix this week. I didn’t know at first it was a movie not a series. It was OK but a miss, I think, and not nearly as funny as the books. The author’s descriptions and observations were so witty, and his unique humor didn’t translate to the screen.

It’s hard to say if it’s the writing, casting or acting – but none of the characters hit home with me. The whole thing just made me want to re-read the books.

I also started season six of Unforgotten on PBS. I do love PBS, but for some reason, it doesn’t show that I watched season five, so it was quite the hassle to figure out where I was in the series. Back in the old days, we got one season a year, which was easy enough for this old-timer.

That said, I do love the streaming options we have today, so no more complaining from me.

What I’m Eating

Dale roasted a whole chicken this week. One of my favorites. I know it sounds crazy, but I don’t care all that much for fried chicken. Give me a roasted bird any day. All plump and juicy with crispy golden brown skin and succulent meat.

We always go for the leg quarters on the first night, mostly because the breast meat is better for leftovers. Dale used up most of the white meat the next night on a batch of chicken tortilla soup, and half of that went in the freezer.

All is well with the world when you have good back-up soup.

We ate the chicken with broccoli and his New England-style stuffing, which is made with ground potatoes, onions, bread and seasonings. It sounds odd, but it’s quite delicious. He puts it in the bird. Same with Thanksgiving turkey.

I made Slow Cooker Tomato Lentil Soup from the NY Times. They promoted it as a summer soup, since it uses fresh tomatoes, and I would concur. It was like the best tomato basil bisque you’ve ever had. The red lentils pretty much dissolve but add heft and flavor to the base.

The comments are always interesting in the NY Times food app. Quite a few people didn’t want to use heavy cream. Jeez, I lust for heavy cream. Some substituted coconut milk, which I also love, but I didn’t want to change the flavor profile. The only change I made was to double the garlic.

I was going to make Brown Butter Skillet Corn Bread to accompany the soup, but I saw a half a cup of maple syrup and decided it was too sweet for our taste. Instead, I made our old standby blue corn muffins. Blue corn has a delicious earthy taste, and I believe it’s actually a little better for you than yellow cornmeal.

Recipes abound on the Internet, but you might have to resort to Amazon to get the blue corn meal. I get stone-ground blue cornmeal for the muffins but blue corn masa for tortillas.

I also made tuna noodle casserole. Such a flashback but still worthy after all these years. Mine is from Valerie Bertinelli. I have a few modifications. I add garlic, celery, peas and two cans of oil-packed tuna instead of one. She calls for medium shells, but I use large. Valerie also likes flavored potato chips as the topping, but I use plain.

This time I used Gibble’s, a brand we love from Pennsylvania. Dale gets them in the mail. He’s quite serious about his chips. These are fried in lard. If there’s such a thing as a lard-based potato chip in your local store, I say go for it.

The casserole was yum and four servings made it to the freezer. We have the best freezer food.

What I’m Reading

I’ve been on the waiting list at the library for The Tainted Cup by Robert Jackson Bennett. I just got it yesterday, but I started it and like it so far. It’s a sci-fi murder mystery and Hugo award finalist, so I have high hopes.

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?

My favorite job so far

I’m coming up on my eight-year retirement anniversary. Knowing what I know now, would I do anything different?

Hard to say. What I know now isn’t any better than what I knew then. I just have more time to ruminate on it. Occasionally I wonder if I have it in me to work again. Part of me says yes. I’m certainly capable, and I wouldn’t mind putting on real clothes, but I don’t see how I could sustain my lifestyle.

Unless I have a tee time, it takes me a couple of hours to get going in the morning. I revel in the slow start. Breakfast, coffee, news, constitutionals, puzzles. Of course, it takes time to get my blood pressure back to normal after reading the paper, so there’s that.

Although I was minimally fit during my working years, I’m in way better shape now. But it’s a commitment, and I find it easier to stick with the program when I don’t have to make decisions that interfere with happy hour.

I try to get all my exercise in before lunch because … well, lunch.

Dinner is just one more meal away. It creeps up fast, and you’ve got to be ready. I like to be involved in that whole business. I suppose my husband, Dale, could go back to being the primary for meal planning, but the older he gets, the more he eats like a 10-year-old boy. The man needs supervision.

It’s true I’ve gotten a little older in eight years. Haven’t we all? It now takes a village to maintain my aesthetic standards. Facials, massages, pedicures, haircuts. While I would have benefitted from all that when I was working … looking sharp for all those high-level personal interactions … there was no time for such indulgences. In my career, they didn’t hand out prizes for most chilled.

Now I have the time, except these days I’m talking to the cat. And seriously, he’s not interested in anything I have to say. Unless I’m coated in kibble, I don’t think he cares what I look like. It’s just me and the mirror. My steady date.

Finally, there’s the problem of my inside voice. As it is with so many retirees, what used to be my inside voice is now my outside voice, and it does not always reveal my best side. However, I think it’s like toothpaste. No going back.

All in all, I don’t see how it would be possible to go back to work. Which means I will continue to focus on the simple pleasures of retirement, which is my favorite job so far.

In other news, it turns out the goo in my car was probably my fault. The dude at the dealership said I must have spilled a soda down into the console. I said I haven’t had a soda in 20 years, but I did not mention my PBJ burritos. Apparently, the culprit was marionberry jam. That will teach me for being a food snob. Grape jelly wouldn’t pull a stunt like that.

Messy eating cost me $200. They had to clean it all up and replace a switch, because the goo apparently went everywhere. No more eating in the car. And there you have it, another pro tip from Retirement Confidential.

I will leave you with Number 45. The wood was tough to burn, and I got fed up with it. By coincidence, it occurred to me that pallet scraps are probably treated with chemicals and shouldn’t be burned anyway. I wear a mask, but still.

While I found the rustic pallets charming, and I liked the idea of transforming them into something unique, they can be frustrating to burn when I’m working on small, detailed designs. My skills have improved over the past few years, and better wood will give me an opportunity to try new things.

So, yay. Farewell my pallet friends. You had a good run.

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.

Life is weird, but food is good

The news sucks, I mean, things get weirder by the day, but perhaps a wee bit of food porn will brighten your week. If there’s a theme, it’s toppings!

I modified a recipe from the NY Times called Summer Roll Noodle Salad. Cold cooked rice noodles go in the bottom of a bowl, then that is topped with mixed baby greens. Over that goes shredded carrots, bean sprouts, shredded cucumbers and pan-seared shrimp. Then on top of that goes chopped mint, basil, cilantro and peanuts.

If that’s not enough, each salad is topped with a dressing made from peanut butter, fish sauce, hoisin sauce, lime juice, hot chile peppers, garlic and ginger. The dressing was great, but I think a simple nước chấm would be even better. That would include almost all the same ingredients but without the peanut butter.

Flavor bomb! Sadly, it also looked like a bomb went off in the kitchen. A huge mess. Once again, I had an early morning tee time, and Dale got stuck with the aftermath. I love it when a plan comes together.

He made an America’s Test Kitchen recipe we’ve been enjoying for years. Crisp-Skin High-Roast Butterflied Chicken with Potatoes. The chicken is brined for a few hours. He lines the broiler pan with foil and then adds sliced potatoes tossed with olive oil, salt and pepper. He pre-cooks those for maybe 10 minutes, and then puts the rack on top with the chicken on it to cook at 500 degrees.

I don’t know how long. Until done?

As the chicken roasts, all those yummy juices drip onto the potatoes. Because the potatoes get a head start, some are super-crisp like potato chips and some are soft and succulent. He served it with fresh corn-on-the-cob, which was great, but we were like animals going after those potatoes.

We had leftover chicken, and Dale made chicken tortilla soup, which is on a regular rotation at our house. His recipe features a spicy tomato base with poblano peppers and shredded chicken. We each top our bowl with freshly fried corn tortilla strips, cilantro, diced avocado and crumbled queso fresco. Oh, and a squirt of lime. Two servings go in the freezer.

Yes, there was still leftover chicken, so I made a batch of chicken divan. It’s a retro thing, and one of the few times we eat processed food, but we both love it. I make it in a rectangular casserole. Par-boiled broccoli goes on the bottom. That’s topped with shredded chicken.

More toppings drill sergeant!

Over the broccoli-chicken base goes a sauce made from canned soup (that’s the processed part), mayonnaise, a little wine and curry powder. Most recipes call for cream of chicken soup, but I use cream of mushroom. Then comes a generous shower (more like a downpour) of grated cheddar cheese. All that is topped with buttered browned breadcrumbs.

The whole thing gets baked at 350 degrees until it’s all bubbly. I like to make it ahead of time, so the cooking time varies if I’ve pulled it out of the refrigerator. It was great, as per usual, and we froze a couple of extra servings.

That chicken got a workout! The carcass is in the freezer. I use that to make stock.

Dale also made what he calls Schnitzel on a Stick. It’s basically a bone-in pork chop pounded thin, breaded and then fried crisp in lard (ignore all the bad things you’ve heard about lard). We had that with big salads featuring farmers market tomatoes and topped with walnuts sauteed with butter, brown sugar and lots of cayenne pepper.

That also made a big mess, but as I told Dale, making messes is our super power.

Friday’s pizza was Dale’s specialty featuring a white parmesan cream sauce on the bottom topped with smoked salmon, capers, more farmers market tomatoes, red onion, mozzarella and smoked gouda.

As is our tradition, we watched a bad sci-fi movie. This week’s selection was It Came From Beneath the Sea, circa 1955. A submarine gets caught in the tentacles of a massive sea creature that’s heading for San Francisco Bay, leaving a wave of destruction in its wake.

Our goal is to make it through the pizza, and we often quit after that. But we watched the whole thing. Of course, there was a female scientist, and there was a lot of corny dialogue about gender roles. But we suffered through that to see the octopus try and take down the Golden Gate Bridge.

Finally, my masterpiece of the week was jalapeño cheddar sourdough loaf. This was my first attempt to make anything other than the standard boule, and all I can say is holy kapoopers it is good. You get the heat and brininess of the pickled jalapeños, then the gooiness of the cheese and the tang of sourdough.

We had some this morning toasted with a little Irish butter and a couple of strips of crisp bacon on the side. The only thing that would have made it better is a bloody Mary, but I seriously would have been comatose.

Life is weird, but food is good.

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.

Keep calm and eat well

Although I play golf at least twice a week, I almost never ride. I don’t like to ride in carts, I play better when I walk and my body feels better when I walk. Yesterday I agreed to ride and by the end of the round, my knees were screaming. These are the knees that have been devoid of pain for months now.

The moral of the story is walk if you can. Always. Except tomorrow. I have another tournament where it really is best if I ride, but after this, I’m staying away from any event or course where I can’t walk. It’s called Make Donna’s Knees Great Again.

And for tomorrow’s event, our four-person team will be wearing matching outfits with a floral top that for me at least, will never see the light of day again. I believe I may be expected to wear a plastic lei. I’m all in. Our team won last year, so you know, whatever it takes.

In a moment of weakness, I accepted the role of co-captain for our league, with the expectation I will be captain next year. I’ve been wondering if I’m the right choice, so I asked my playing partners this week what they thought.

I acknowledged I can be aloof, but they didn’t seem to think that was a problem. Our current captain is absolutely perfect, so finding a replacement has unique challenges. Apparently, the first priority is finding someone who is willing to do it. Qualifications include being alive and upright. Check.

The next big thing is to avoid being a jerk, bitching out women on the course for rules violations and stuff like that. I’m proud to say I actually put some effort into not being a jerk, so I’m feeling pretty good about all that. Additionally, I hate the rules and would rather take a 10 than argue with someone over the proper way to drop a ball out of the hazard.

All in all, I’m optimistic. I got this.

In spite of all the bad craziness going on out there, my new mantra is keep calm and eat well.

In that spirit, on Sunday I made pasta with pesto sauce. Pesto is so easy. I just eyeball it these days. Lightly toasted pine nuts, a big bunch of fresh basil, a couple of garlic cloves, grated parmesan cheese, a dab of butter and enough olive oil to whiz it all together in the food processor. I even made the pasta from scratch.

I used to have the hand-crank pasta machine but recently upgraded to the KitchenAid pasta attachment, and it is worth every penny. It’s a whole lot easier when you can use both hands to feed the machine and guide the pasta as it comes out.

For a fancy little accompaniment, I made sardines fried in beer batter. This was a first, and all I can say is it won’t be the last. Damn, they were good. And yes, just regular canned sardines packed in olive oil, although I did use Matiz, which are imported from Spain.

The best part was I had an early morning tee time, and Dale got stuck with the mess.

Yesterday we had tacos from the freezer. It was a selection of chicken, bison and pork. The pork tacos are new, and they’ve become my new favorite. The pork filling is made in the slow cooker with pickled jalapeños and a good bit of the brine. And a little bit of brown sugar. Then it’s all shredded up at the end.

I’m not really into pulled pork sandwiches, but it sure does make great tacos. I make the kind with crispy shells. We freeze those, and Dale revives them in the oven quite successfully. A little bit of his homemade scorpion pepper salsa is a great addition, but one does have to be careful. Not him, of course. He’s a pepper machine.

We went to the corn place today. It was not pick your own, so we were disappointed. But I believe it was picked this morning, so we have high hopes. We’re just going to have corn with a couple of grilled sausages.

I’m not sure there will be leftovers, but I have corn chowder on my list. A little trick I learned last year is to make the stock from the shucked corn cobs. I may also try a bit of crispy pancetta as a topping. And some homemade bread to dunk.

My sourdough continues to improve, but I’m not quite there yet. Today I’m timing my starter to see how long it takes to reach its peak.

I’m aiming for six hours, so I can feed it at 8 a.m., go about my day, and then make the dough around 2 p.m. I store the starter in a temperature-controlled keeper and had it set at 78 degrees. At that temperature, it was peaking too soon, and by the time I get ready to make the dough, it’s somewhat bubbly but not full-strength.

Today I have it set at 75 degrees, to see if that improves the timing. It sounds obsessive, but it’s really one small detail that is keeping me from perfect bread. Not that imperfect bread is a bad thing.

Speaking of imperfect, I finished number 44! It was fun to do, and I’m very happy with how it turned out. I always tell myself it’s OK to deviate from the norm. It doesn’t have to be hyper-realistic.

It’s art! It can be anything we want it to be.