Cooking the NYTimes and Other Assorted Retirement Activities

 W e're fast approaching the end of what has felt like, these past few weeks, living large in limbo. What would be typical in late January, as we approached leaving for Florida (and some sunshine, please, Lord, some sunshine!), is preparatory work for buttoning up the house.  Stopping the paper (yes, we still get a paper copy every day).  Forwarding the mail.  Ensuring electrical devices are unplugged, setting timers.  Eating down so that little to nothing remains in the refrigerator and pantry.  Final load of laundry. With the onset of the house going on the market, however, prep works includes stripping the house down to its bare bones.  Painting, sanding floors, removing virtually all shreds of ourselves from walls and shelves.  Voices echo in emptied rooms. When my eyes catch sight of an item that hasn't been moved to storage, I ask myself what it's doing there.  Is it going to Florida with me?  And if so, why isn't it in the oversiz...

  Before I put fingers to keyboard, my writing process begins with, well, processing--preparing to release a blog  for public consumption.  I consume concepts first, usually over and over again because as something bubbles up for consideration, it can bring a friend or two along, muddying the process.  The thoughts hanging in there may be knocked aside, buried for good or simply fermenting until their place is found within the maelstrom whirling in my feeble brain.  And forget about finding the correct word--aging is an exercise in staring out the window at the bird feeder, opening up the portals until a faint click sets me off in what I hope is the right direction.  For example: foment? ferment? fragment? furry? flatulent? flaggellate? This blog, then, has been in process since early last fall when decided to move forward with what had been, until then, simply a topic of conversation.  Internally.  With each other.  With friends, family, oth...