Cooking the NYTimes and Other Assorted Retirement Activities

Working out is an absolutely critical component of my life.  As a kid my mother would complain that I could never sit still.  Old home movies (taken on the Bell and Howell camera) confirm she was correct.  I tell you this, as I am fast approaching 69, because I believe I come by this need to move honestly.  It is part and parcel of my makeup.  I like the admonition that you should be getting up and moving at least every 20 minutes in your day.  While I was working, I know that's why I drank so much coffee--I had to walk to the coffee machine in the Gathering Center outside of our offices.  Even on the beach, ensconced in my Tommy Bahama beach chair not unlike Jabba, reading an engaging story on the Kindle, I can only sit so long without going back to the townhouse for a potty break or refill the water or maybe just wander down the beach a little to check in with our fellow Snowbirds. I believe I previously have written about the return of the exercise ...

This is a post about gratitude.  Unconditional, unmeasured, unfettered gratitude. I am grateful I continue to have agency over my own life--and all that entails. I am grateful for the gift of a loving and good humored Spousal Unit ™  with whom I share my Ground Hog's Day life.  In the midst of the maelstrom, he continues to be one of the nicest people I know. I am grateful for every last dab of family, who frequently poke their heads up like the Meercats in Meercat Manor to check in with their fellow members of the bloodlines.  In that vein, I am grateful for friends who do the same. I am more grateful than words can express for my grandchildren.  Not that I don't hold deep gratitude for my children, their parents, without whom I would not know the unbearable joy of being a grandmother,  However, the love I continue to harbor in my heart and secure in my soul for my children may have been multiplied, then surpassed by the love I have for my grandchildren....

  Words have power . Their meaning crystallizes perceptions that shape our beliefs, drive our behavior, and ultimately, create our world. Their  power  arises from our emotional responses when we read, speak, or hear them. --found on The Google Upon reading this, you may be saying, "Thank you, Captain Obvious.  OF COURSE words have power.  Have you been living under a rock the past four years?" Sometimes I wish.   Like so many, my frustrations and anxieties lie not solely in awaiting election results.  My biggest wonder from the election of Donald J. Trump--how did we as a country get to this place and what was my role in this descendancy--has been on its own personal journey.  For the main, I'm admitting to having lost significant faith in my fellow man and my country, absolutely in the Republican party.  Hope has been a commodity in short supply.  During the run up to the election, I listened religiously to podcasts from Pod Save Ameri...

  Yesterday, for the first time, I served as an election judge.  It was a humbling experience, such an easy way to serve your community, and I highly recommend it. Arriving at 6 am, an hour before the polls opened in Minnesota, my fellow judges and I were sworn in:     I, __________,  solemnly swear (or affirm) that I will perform the duties of election judge according to law and the best of my ability and will diligently endeavor to prevent fraud, deceit and abuse in conducting this election. I will perform my duties in a fair and impartial manner and not attempt to create an advantage for my party or for any candidate. That truly set the tone for the day. Here's what I saw: Some of the election judges were veterans, one having served over twenty years.  Others, like me, were newbies.  We had two student volunteers whose enthusiasm for this democratic process was palpable.  Everyone took their oath very seriously.  They were kind and welcomi...

WARNING: A SNARKY RANT TO COME (not that most of my posts don't have some degree of snarkiness in them) Well, well, well.  Since I last wrote,   would you have ever predicted all the s*#t that's happened in the interim?  Naw, me neither, and I do enjoy a substantial dose of sarcasm every day. A few different comments/things I've read or heard have been bubbling up, churning their way into a blog post and I've chosen to combine them here. I listen to far too many podcasts for my own good.  One I've come to heavily rely on during these unprecedented times (anyone else ready to see Webster's retire the word unprecedented) is the Osterholm Update: COVID-19 from the University of Minnesota.  In his most recent podcast, Dr. Osterholm described two phenomenon he's seeing: COVID Fatigue, probably familiar to most of you, and COVID Anger.  In short, people are exhausted and pissed.  There's a dynamite combination.  Subsequently I read an article about stag...

We're into meteorological fall   and if I have a second favorite season...no, that's the holiday season, Halloween through New Year's...okay, meteorologically, it is fall.  I'm fortunate enough to live in the True North, where the colors can be spectacular for a few weeks; the days, sunny with bright blue skies; temperatures which require sweats or jeans and sweaters and also insist that the Flip Flops be returned to their hiding place in the closet.  I always bid them a fond farewell and thank them for their fine work over the past few months, reminding them their sojourn in the storage boxes is temporary and once the Spousal Unit ™  returns his Santa Suit to its Christmas bag, it will only be a matter of days before they hear, "Who wants to go to Florida?" The air takes on a distinct odor, carried on the increasing volume of wind, as we move away from summer.  It smells like September--just a little less full of summer breeze and more impending crispness....

  I began this blog when I retired, as I had intentions to Cook the NY Times recipes as written, then share same with you, dear readers. Needless to say I've veered off the beaten path if not gone over the cliff with other topics, seldom writing anything about cooking. At least for today, that changes.  I do want to thank the NYTimes Cooking section as it has pushed me outside my cooking comfort zone.  A definite kitchen changer for me is the book Salt, Fat, Heat, Acid   by Samin Nosrat.  There's a terrific Netflix show by the same name. We are smack dab in the midst of Farmer's Market season.  I hope you are aware of where the closest Farmer's Market is to you and that you frequent it as often as possible until the outdoors ones close.  Around here, that's sometime in October and by then, many of the veggies showing up in abundance right now will be a distant albeit delicious memory. You're probably aware that food found at the Farmer's Markets a...

TO:  Parents, Grandparents and those stewing in anger and frustration over the opening of school FROM: Mary O'Brien, Career Educator, Retired School Administrator RE:  Redirecting that well deserved sense of Righteous Anger You might feel like this right about now: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bwi6_Ugq8jA I get it. You get it. We all get it. There is nothing good bubbling within the fast approaching start of school. Virtual?  Wonderful!  Horrible! Hybrid model?  Wonderful!  Horrible! In person?  Wonderful!  Horrible! The purpose of this memo is to encourage you to blow up your well deserved sense of Righteous Anger directed at the decision your school board has made about when, where, how, etc. the return to school. I wish to convince you to turn that Righteous Anger to where it belongs.  Not with your state or local administration. No, fling it directly at the White House and Republican members of Congress.  Throw it like you flung m...

Just a guess here, but I'm thinking that you, like me, have a (relatively) long list of things you miss.  You missed.  You continue to miss on account of the unprecedented COVID-19.  Some probably have more degrees of significance than others.  On the good days, you're able to put the list into perspective. When the days aren't so smooth, at least for me, the list becomes a thousand ton weight pressing on all internal organs, smooshing them into one indistinguishable mass.  (There's a descriptor, right?) Something I have found very useful when I'm feeling smooshed, and even when I'm not, is practicing yoga.   I can viscerally remember the first yoga class I took.  It was shortly after my mom "went down", becoming bedridden following the rupture of an abdominal abdominal aneurysm.  (She lived 4 years, way beyond statistical prediction, and was the happiest bedridden woman on the block during most of that time, but I digress).  At the end ...

Well, hmm.  Here we are, weeks after the Grand Opening, and in a surprise to probably just about no one, cases of COVID-19 are rising in places where people are gathering without social distancing and wearing masks. Today I found myself reminiscing about three laws that were passed to protect us from ourselves and others.   Law Number One: the seat belt law. Gradually studies demonstrated that wearing a seat belt in your car protected those belted in from serious injury in case of an accident.  (Anyone remember the PSA "Seat Belts Save Lives?") Slowly but surely, from 1966-1970, seat belts became a standard feature in new cars.  People complained about wearing them.  Vociferously.  Seat belts choked you.  They prevented you from turning the steering wheel.  It was more difficult to reach the ash tray when wearing a seat belt.  You couldn't change the radio station or adjust the volume if the seat belt was holding you fast in place. ...