Cooking the NYTimes and Other Assorted Retirement Activities

Told in the fashion of the NPR Program, This American Life I am not Ira Glass.   Act 1. "Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans."  John Lennon Friday, February 11th: a quintessential Florida beach day.  I had parked my chair (and butt) on the beach to take advantage of the warmth and sunshine.  Dan was taking our beagle puppy, Benny, for a walk.  We have adopted the mantra, "A tired dog is a good dog" and Dan, daily, did his best to wear out the energy filled Benny with multiple walks, often including a stint at one of the local dog parks. When my phone rang and the display indicated it was Dan, I wondered if he was going to describe his walk with the dog.  Maybe tell me he would be joining me on the beach. The voice responding to my hello was not Dan's. I think this is how the conversation transpired: Male voice: "Is this Dan's wife?" Me: "Yes?" Male voice: "Are you Mary?" Me: (anxiety increasing) "Ye...

  Do you read the obituaries? I do. The bulk of the obituaries placed in the Minneapolis Star and Tribune appear on Sunday, so I set aside some time to filter through them.  First, I scan the pages, my eyes falling on the photographs, drawn especially to the notices displaying photographs of the deceased in their younger, then later years.  I focus on the smiles, considering the moment when the picture captured the person enjoying their life, regardless of how trying, or difficult, or challenging it may had been at other times.  I note the length of the obituary; in recent times, certain notices fill a column of newsprint.  Next, I check the ages of the deceased, tsking at how the younger ones (in my frame of reference, anyone under 80) were taken too soon.  Then I settle in to read, in alphabetical order as they are published. Some of the deceased, of course, were movers and shakers of the first magnitude. Their accomplishments are lauded in the obituary. ...

  Last New Year's Eve, I wrote 2020 in black marker on one of the grandkid's plastic balls.  At midnight, I attempted to kick it out the front door.  Instead, the ball bounced off the door frame, back into the house. We laughed, saying that's what kind of year it was. We should have taken it as an omen. When the year turns, I usually 'take stock' as opposed to making resolutions (although last year, the Spousal Unit and I had the same resolution: to kiss each other goodnight, a habit, sadly, we had fallen out of.  Pleased to report we kept said resolution pretty well and it has produced, at least for me, a most satisfying way to end the day).  I try to spend time in quiet contemplation or prayer, asking myself what I should do to improve my actions, heart and soul in the future.  This Advent, I was struck with the phrase, "...when we are brave enough to be who you (God) call us to be."  This has become part of my prayers and I'll admit to pulling it ou...

  Hastings, Minnesota: Candidate's child became target in school board election - CNN Sadly, oh so so so sadly, not in Hastings? I retired as Director of Community Education for the Hastings Public Schools almost five years ago.  When I first took the job, my dear friend Jackie, also a Director of Community Education, told me that I would be better for them than they would be for me. Yes and no. First, an aside: my Minnesota readers are familiar with Community Education.  To those of you who reside elsewhere-- Community Education is an integral component of every Minnesota school district, providing education and school-community linkages.  Programs are funded primarily through user fees.  In a school district organization chart, the Community Education Director is a member of the Superintendent's Cabinet and s/he is the Community Education Director's direct report. Back to that yes and no.  Yes, Jackie was right.  The administrative structure in the ...

  with thanks and appreciation to Rusty Douglas, who reminded me that I am an author and that maybe I should write a little more often Every once in a while, the planets align and Mercury is not in retrograde and the stars shine brightly, meaning the best of energies filter into your systems and those you love and you experience a couple days of exquisiteness. That was this past Thanksgiving weekend.  It was nothing short of exquisite.  And since the universe is full of what all too often to me feels like apocalyptic times, I'm gratefully seizing the opportunity to share what filled my heart and soul. Thanksgiving Day, I cuddled in bed,  jammies clad, with my youngest daughter, Bridget, and granddaughter Sloane while we watched the Macy's Day parade.  Sloane was entranced by the Broadway snippets; her little brother marched along with the bands; both thought the balloons were magical.  While we lounged under the covers, my youngest granddaughter, Georgia, F...

  Before beginning, let me say I am acutely aware that what follows is a first world problem. On Monday, October 18, we arrived at Minneapolis-St. Paul airport at 3:30 a.m. for a trip to St. Maarten with the first of our helpers, our dear friends Jeff and Jackie, who invited us to share in their vacation.  An indication that perhaps this adventure might be going awry was that as we pulled up to the curb, we noticed that the Delta section of the terminal--and only the Delta section--was semi-illuminated in emergency lighting.  A power outage had not only dimmed the lights but was preventing Delta from checking in and boarding the milling passengers. So far we're not too worried.  There's an hour between our scheduled arrival into Atlanta and the connecting flight to St. Maarten. Tick...tick...tick... No power.  No computers booting up.  Delta agents huddling, doing their best to problem solve the situation. Sometime after 5 am, an agent announces we are movi...

  The Sundial Chair This is my beloved backyard chair. The chair itself is at least ten years old, and from best as I can tell, such mesh, four position loungers are not to be found at either big box or small establishments that sell backyard furniture.  If I remember correctly--always a stretch--I bought a couple of these to contribute to the outdoor seating at my former son-in-law's cabin.  The cabin was sold before his and Molly's marriage ended; the chairs must have come home with them; she must have claimed them in the dissolution of their household goods. I'm awfully glad she did. A couple years ago, I earnestly looked to replace this chair and its now less sturdy mate.  Being the frugal daughter of a frugal father (who owned frayed, web meshed lawn chairs for years because they were still serviceable), I was appalled by the prices of decidedly nicer backyard lounge chairs.  These are slatted, many made of teak and bamboo to stand up to the elements. ...