Cooking the NYTimes and Other Assorted Retirement Activities

On a recent evening, Dan was unavailable to watch television with me.  Since we have an agreement not to cheat  by watching whatever show we're currently streaming without the other, I was scrolling through the cable channels when a movie title caught my eye. Witness.  Starring the original, one, only and forever Cute Boy, Harrison Ford.  I like virtually everything about that film except the casting of Kelly McGillis as Rachel, the Amish woman Harrison's character John Book falls in love with.  Not a fan.  Plus her choices, as a young widow living in the midde of rural Pennsylvania looking to remarry, were Harrison Ford or Alexander Gudenov.  Really? Anyhow, as I was watching, I found myself reminiscing about when I was involved with the International Childbirth Education Association as a Board Member and a trainer.  Often I taught groups of 50-200 women and needed a way to bring the group back together when I had thrown out a discussion ques...

Perhaps you recall a previous post about the Birdhouse Project .  Below is proof positive of its completion. Truth be told, they sat on top of the refrigerator for a couple weeks while I waited for the Spousal Unit  ™ to mount them on the garage.  Influenced by the film Wonder Woman, I figured I could take matters into my own hands.  I went to the local hardware store, described what I wanted to do, and came home with some hangars.  My pounding on the storage garage wall was enough to bring the Spousal Unit ™  outside to see what I was doing.  Turns out the recommendation at the hardware store didn't work but it did tip Dan-o over the edge so that he came up with a solution and mounted the birdhouses on the garage. Pretty good, huh?   Cooking: Do you remember the book Tuesdays With Morrie ?  We have Tuesdays With Maggie (daughter #2), Pete (her Spousal Unit ™ )  and Georgia (granddaughter #3, grandchild # 6). ...

Perhaps you remember this song from a previous decade... My grandson Jackson often murmurs "Hmmm" while I snuggle in with him to get him to take a nap.  It is in the style of when someone says your name--in this case, Jackson says, "Grandma?" and because I don't want to engage in a conversation with him, I reply, "Hmmm."  He is deliciously precious as he falls asleep and this quiet little, oft repeated "Hmmm" brings peace to me. Not everything that makes you go "Hmmm" is peaceful, however.  I find myself saying "Hmmm" about any number of things.  Like: Why don't the bunnies eat the flowers in other peoples' gardens?  Last year I finally succumbed and dug out all my lilies, which the wascally wabbits had gnawed down to stumps from virtually the moment they emerged from the ground.  I consulted the interweb for suggestions on how to make plants less attractive to rabbits and tried quite a few, to no avail.  ...

Those of you who regularly engage in craft-y type activities--and I count a fair number of you among my friends and acquaintances and you know who are you--will probably sigh as you read this, saying, "She is making a damn big deal out of nothing." Isn't that what retirement is all about? Actually I'm writing about this because the Birdhouse Project began a couple years ago as I was pulling out of the parking lot at KDWA radio in Hastings. When I was working, each month I was on air host Mo McNeary; we talked all things Community Education and made each other laugh.  One of the best gigs of the prior job.  Driving away, I saw a couple painted birdhouses hung on the side of a garage and thought to myself, "That's pretty cool.  I have a storage garage with an unadorned side.  That's something I could do when I retire!" So I'm pretty darned proud of myself that a) I remembered this was something I wanted to do when I retired and 2) I'm act...

I'm going to begin with a disclosure that at least some of you are familiar with. Almost 25 years ago, our family and our framily, the Smiths, were in the Drake Diner in Des Moines when it was robbed and two people brutally murdered.  One of the bullet casings bounced off Voldemort's foot (see previous blog regarding Voldemort).  The oldest children were called to testify in court.  The memories can still cause my blood to run cold and my heart to beat faster than it should.  Every mass shooting invokes the memory of being under the table at the Diner, holding our youngests close.  The oldest children were seated at a booth directly across from the register where the murders took place.  I remember the first shot sounded something like a wait staff had dropped a platter of glasses.  Or maybe a light bulb had exploded.  The restaurant went silent.  My eyes locked with Jeanie's, sitting across the booth from me.  Slowly we sank to the fl...

I spent Memorial Day weekend in Iowa with my friend, Jeanie and her family.  My oldest daughter, Molly, and her family were also there.  That meant 8 kiddos, 6 of Jeanie's 8 grands and 2 of my 6,(in total ages 2-8), in constant--and I do mean--constant motion.  The weather cooperated.  Hank only ran out once and actually came trotting back to Jeanie's in short order.  Communal cooking equated to fabulous meals.  I posted on Facebook that I LOVE the Come to the Table service that St. Timothy's Episcopal Church in West Des Moines, where Jeanie is a Deacon, offers on Sunday night at 5 p.m.  Regardless of your religious denomination, if you live in the Des Moines area, be there on Sunday night or be square. On Monday, I drove over with the Smiths to Iowa City where Jeanie's son (and my son from another mother) Tyson and his family live to celebrate Eleanor Smith's 6th birthday.  Still 8 kids, still constant motion, still loads of love. Tyson has n...

No, this post is NOT about sex but I am going to posit a question a la Carrie Bradshaw, she of Sex and the City.  Plus I figured having sex in the title might be a good way to draw readers. Before I retired, many already retirees would look at me with something akin to sympathy and tell me that it would take me awhile, but I would find a routine.  I've been ruminating over this quite a bit, which leads me to wonder--Why is it important for people leaving the routine of the workforce to then burden themselves with a new routine?  Because, after all, isn't that something we're all looking forward to with baited breath once we retire?  That we can jettison the routine, do whatever we want, whenever we want? (I previously wrote about the value of getting into an exercise routine, which I have been adhering to rather religiously.  Therefore, I exempt exercise from the ensuing conversation about routines.) And don't get me started about schedules.  Definiti...