Maybe we’re not so divided after all

Here I am with not much to say but plenty of words in the hopper nonetheless. It feels like I’m just going through the motions, writing about this or that while democracy burns. Then I think, some people aren’t bothered by any of it, and they go about their merry lives. I would like to be one of them, but I am not.  

So, I come bearing a small gift. As I’ve described in previous posts, I limit my exposure to Substack and avoid shining examples of misinformation, but I continue to read a few quality newsletters on that platform. One such newsletter is “Need to Know” by David Rothkopf.

He recently wrote that a vast majority of Americans agree on a wide array of issues, but political leaders largely don’t address those issues and political analysts would rather talk about how divided we are.

Rothkopf sees it differently. Most of us want the same things, and what we want is not radical.

“The majority cares about being able to make a living, being able to afford the basics of life, being able to send their kids to a good, safe school, having access to clean water, clean air, healthy food, medicines, being able to see a good doctor when they need it, being able to afford care when they are sick, having a dignified retirement, knowing that their communities are safe, knowing that law breakers will be punished, living in a society in which they and those they know have the opportunity to get ahead, not having the government interfere in their lives in ways that limit their freedoms, living in a democratic country they are proud of.”

You can read his piece here. I felt a little better after reading it. Maybe you will, too. If Trump doesn’t rig the next election, and enough people come to their senses, we might have a chance.

What I’m Watching

I finally subscribed to BritBox, and I am on a “Shetland” binge. I’m on season four, and there are nine total!

The series is based on the novels by Ann Cleeves, who also wrote the books the show “Vera” is based on. “Shetland” features detective Jimmy Perez, who investigates crime in the close-knit Scottish island community of Shetland.

I’ve been so wrapped up in “Shetland” that I haven’t even looked around to see what else I might like. Any other BritBox suggestions?

What I’m Eating

If you’ve heard of the singer-songwriter Townes Van Zandt, you might be familiar with what might be the saddest song in history – “Marie.” It’s about a homeless guy and his partner, Marie. I know, I know, what does this have to do with food?

Well, part of the song goes:

Summer wasn’t bad below the bridge

A little short on food, that’s all

Now I gotta get Marie some kind of coat

We’re headed down into fall

Yes, we are headed down into fall! Dale and I always quote that song, in honor of Townes. I’ve made a monster list of all the things we want to make, and we are starting to put a dent in it.

Dale made navy bean and sausage soup. I think turnips are the key to this soup – they cook in the stock with the rest of the aromatics and add a big punch of flavor. He toasts slices of French bread under the broiler and brushes them with garlic-infused olive oil. The magic happens when you dunk the bread into your soup.

I made pumpkin seed dip, one of our old favorites from a Diana Kennedy cookbook. Our version is off-the-charts hot. You will probably not make it, but I will describe it for those who like to live vicariously. We’ve made this dip for parties, and some people can’t touch it. Others can be found in the corner, licking the bowl after everyone else has left.

You start with a cup or so raw shelled pumpkin seeds, and toast them on the cooktop in a dry cast iron pan. Once they’re browned, let them cool. Then you buzz those up in a spice grinder with salt to make a fine powder. Now you need a couple of good tomatoes, two or three fresh habanero peppers and a couple of jalapeños, and you put them on a broiler pan with a rack.

Those go into the broiler to blacken. You kind of have to keep your eyes on them. The peppers blacken up fast, but the tomatoes take longer. That gets whizzed up in the blender with a little water if you need it. Mix the powder with the liquid and add chopped chives and cilantro. Serve with tortilla wedges that have been brushed with oil and crisped in the oven.

We eat it as an afternoon snack or appetizer before dinner. If you can hang with the heat, it’s absolutely addictive. I suppose you could leave the peppers out, but they add a ton of flavor. Maybe just cut back a little?

My favorites from the “headed down into fall” list include, kabocha squash curry, stuffed cabbage, miso seafood chowder, chicken pot pie and venison meatloaf. I have a new slow cooker recipe for chicken and wild rice soup that sounds yummy. I also have a shrimp and grits recipe I’ve been eager to try. Dale’s not a grits fan, but when you add bacon, cheese and shrimp, something tells me he’ll go along with the plan.

What I’m Reading

I am still enjoying the Inspector Erlendur series by Arnaldur Indriðason. The setting is Reykjavík. The genre is Nordic Noir. He’s sort of a dark character, which somehow appeals to me. There’s subtle humor, great story lines and interesting characters. I’ve read six now, and I believe there are 11.

Not exactly recreational, but I’m also learning how to use Google Drive and reading all I can about best practices. I used a shared drive when I was working, but that all went out the window when I retired. The group I volunteered to help uses Google Drive, so that’s my motivation. It’s not hard, but like most things, it takes time to figure it all out.

Escape plan

These are the times that try men’s souls.

I don’t trust myself to write coherently about what is going on here in the USA. When people talked about having an escape plan and leaving the country after Trump was elected, I said you can run, but you can’t hide. Dark political forces never rest, no matter where you live. May as well stay and ride it out. Do what you can to resist, help others and try to enjoy life.

Nothing has changed. That’s still the plan, but geez, Trump’s U.N. speech was whackadoodle and now Don and Pete’s excellent adventure at Quantico … I find myself browsing sites that tell you how to leave.

Just window shopping. I’m ever hopeful we’ll pull through this. I don’t need much to keep me going. A key resignation. Mass resistance. Somebody with a backbone. The Epstein files. Every little bit counts.

In spite of it all, I feel pretty good. Thank you, God, for Jameson Black Barrel.

My meeting with the Indivisible contact was postponed, but it’s back on the schedule for this weekend. I’m excited to see how I can help. Dale and I are planning to attend one of the No Kings protests on Oct. 18. It’s just a matter of which location. I vote for easy parking.

I’m so grateful to have hobbies and interests that take me out of the current political moment and give me joy. As I’ve said time and again, it’s all about simple pleasures. Maybe I’m turning soft, or maybe just because it’s fall, but even noticing changes in the weather or the light feels like a gift.

You may recall I’ve been dabbling at art since Covid, and seriously, it has been a lifeline. I burn designs on wood and then paint them for a mural-like effect. I was using pallet scraps but recently decided to do something different. For Number 46, I purchased a piece of bass wood typically used for craft projects.

So, here she is. Number 46.

While the wood was nice to work with, I find it rather one-dimensional. I probably won’t buy it again. And I should be OK, because I bought a big box of some really cool reclaimed wood that I’m eager to try. I sanded a couple of them yesterday, so they’re primed and ready.

That’s my escape plan.

Breaking bread

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Zoomies for bakers

My back is better. While the exercises don’t keep it from occasionally acting up, I recover much quicker since I’ve been doing them. I call that a win. It’s kind of sad in a way, I mean, what happened to that daredevil who could do anything, but I now think of building and maintaining strength as one of my most important retirement jobs. I can feel a difference going up and down the stairs, which is a low bar, but it’s important!

Something about the light in September changes how I feel about food. Even though it’s still quite warm here in Northern California, I’m thinking about the end of summer and the beginning of fall food. Such a beautiful transition.

This week I got the bakies – not unlike the zoomies, when our pets sprint about the house like circus animals on speed.

There are those who would say baking is bad. Cookies won’t make America healthy again! Yes, even when it comes to what we eat, it seems like everyone is fired up about this, that or the other thing. While Dale and I eat little to no processed food, we kind of give ourselves a free pass if we make it at home. Good food is pure pleasure.

And cookies might make America happy again.

While others may be spurning sugar or gluten, we say bring it on. In moderation, of course. We like to keep a batch of homemade cookies in the freezer. That’s usually a toss-up between peanut butter chocolate chip or black pepper cookies. I wanted to try something different, so I went with these iced oatmeal cookies from the NY Times.

I tweaked them by adding one-half cup dried cherries. I wanted sour cherries, but all I could find was sweet, so that’s what I went with. I also added orange rind to the icing, along with a little of the freshly squeezed juice from the orange, a pinch of Kosher salt and a tablespoon of Jack Daniels.

Oh, hell, yes.

It’s not beef tallow, but dag, these cookies are good. Dale and I each had one after dinner that night. I enjoyed another one the next day and then they went straight to the freezer. But it makes me happy to know they are there. Not as happy as I would be to see RFK Jr. voted off the island but happy enough.

Then I went with the original plum torte, also from the NY Times. You can find it here if you can’t get past the NY Times firewall.

I first had something similar to this in Germany, where they called it Zwetschgenkuchen. We usually start to see the Italian prune plums in late August or early September, so this is the time to make it if you can find them.

One version of the recipe called for 1 cup of sugar, and one called for three-fourths cup. I went with three-fourths. I also questioned whether the plums should go face down or face up. The recipe called for face down, so that’s what I went with. 

The torte is absolutely delicious and even better the next day as those juices slowly drip into the cake. I froze most of it in individual servings, just as I do with scones. Sometimes I like a sweet baked treat for breakfast, so this should be right up my alley.

My next baking dilemma is whether I will make my own birthday cake, as I’ve done for the past few years. Coconut layered cake is my usual, and it is pretty effing spectacular. Another go-to is the cake I typically make for Dale’s birthday. I didn’t make it this year, so this would be my mulligan.

A friend gave me the recipe many years ago. I love that it’s in her handwriting. That always makes a recipe special. She called it Creole Chocolate Cake. It’s two layers of chocolate sponge. Between the layers is a pile of freshly whipped cream topped with a gooey mixture of walnuts, dates, evaporated milk and sugar, almost like a praline. Then the whole cake is iced with a frosting made from melted semi-sweet chocolate and sour cream.

As I write this, I believe I’ve made my decision. We know who’s dish is on the chopping block.

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.