Cooking the NYTimes and Other Assorted Retirement Activities

Typically, I assume the audience for this blog is those who have traversed the north side of 50s.  For this post, that assumption is particularly important because while I figure that anyone younger than 50 might have a difficult time identifying with what I write, for this post I am certain of same. My husband, Dan, has served as a wedding officiant a number of times, and he always includes this observation (paraphrased):  Back in my day, the young folk didn't live together before they got married.  Today so many of the young folk do, even purchasing a house, perhaps having a child or two, before walking down the aisle.  He then adds what a good idea he believes this is, as it gives couples the opportunity to really get to know each other that, back in our day, we didn't necessarily have. All four of our children bought a house with their significant other/fiancee before they got married. Back in our day, we did what virtually all our cronies were doing.  We gr...

In my previous blog post, I wrote about sadness, my specific feelings of sadness regarding the sale of our home and consequently being unhomed. Perhaps you'd like to know that said feelings have dissipated, only somewhat, as I continue to ride the waves of emotions (grief, loss, sadness, etc.).  When I crest with the sensations, I feel as if I have allowed myself to lay back, gaze up at a cerulean blue sky, permit the waves to support me and consider the possibilities.  I find I can only paddle so hard and so long to stay atop the wave; there's a still very limited amount of energy I can give to the effort.  Inevitably, I sink into the trench formed between the crests, infinitely darker, often suffocating.  In the trench, I have given strong consideration to driving back to 15703 Boulder Creek Drive ( tearing up as I type the address), pulling up in the driveway, stomping onto the front porch, pounding on the door and yelling at the top of my lungs, "This was a mista...

I have been working this through for a while, since the sale of our house in early February. The actual sale does not jibe with the fantasy version, in which the house sold rapidly and easily, full price, but the closing did not occur until after we returned from Florida. One part coincided.  Our Minnetonka home sold in one day, full price.  The new occupants, newlyweds, expressed their hope to raise their family there.  I did hope for this, when I imagined who might buy our home. But, I saw myself returning to the house for a final farewell and that didn't happen.  Closing happened at the end of March, leaving us in the position of being unhomed. No big deal, right?  We live a blessed life.  Our trials and tribulations are few.  Our gifts are too many.  The good news is the house is sold!  Simultaneously the bad news is, the house is sold. I've been waking up in the middle of the night, heart racing, anxiety coursing through my system. ...

  subtitled what I wish I had the presence of mind to say instead of what I didn't   My previous automobile proudly displayed a number of bumper stickers and decals, including one identifying Amy Klobuchar as my US Senator.  In Minnesota, no problem.  I was, then, a little taken aback when a couple different people in the complex where we were wintering in Florida kinda sidled up to me and asked, sotto voce, "Is that car with the Minnesota plates yours?" I claimed it as such, and they then said, to a person, "You've got to be careful who you talk to about politics here.  I'm an Amy Klobuchar fan, but not everybody is." Duly noted. In polite conversation, I chose to wait to see which way the wind was blowing as opposed to blasting in with the hurricane of my beliefs.  Some were clear that talking politics was a non-starter and that was respected.  Others spewed MAGA and/or DeSantis dismantling of freedoms and for the main, I steered clear of those chats...

This week, following the 130th mass shooting of the year (https://www.wbay.com/2023/03/29/us-surpasses-125-mass-shootings-2023-heres-every-event-mapped/)  , this meme showed up on more than a few Facebook and Instagram pages: Thoughts and Prayers Actions and Policies   To which, Rep. Tim Burchett (R, TN) said,   "We're not going to fix it. Criminals are gonna be criminals...   My daddy, who fought in the Second World War, fought in the Pacific, fought the Japanese, and he told me, 'Buddy,' he said, 'If somebody wants to take you out and doesn't mind losing their life, there's not a whole heck of a lot you can do about it.'"   Burchett, a self-described gun owner who has sponsored bills to expand gun rights, was asked in the hours after the shooting whether there was “any role for Congress to play in reaction to this tragedy.” He said there wasn’t. Does that make you want to throw up?  Read on. Steve Scalise (R, LA), House Majority Leader: " Th...

 We've been in Florida a little over a month, and daily, the headlines--or a story on the front page--in the Tampa Bay Times ups my blood pressure.  This blog, then, is a warning for my friends in the Great North who, understandably, pay little attention to what is going on in Florida, save for the weather if you're headed south for Spring Break and what machinations Disney has designed in order for you to get onto its most popular rides. This low-life, scum sucker is more dangerous than Donald Trump.  Be afraid.  Be very afraid. The following are just a few examples of Ron Baby's onslaught on democracy since we've been here. February 3  DeSantis says he supports open carry in audio recorded from gun rights group February 24 New College trustees, led by DeSantis appointees, dismantle diversity office February 18 4 things to know about Ron DeSantis’ idea to slash AP courses in Florida February 16 Florida lawmakers move to give DeSantis control over school athleti...

 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...