Monday, August 25, 2014

It's complicated

Once upon a time I worked at a mom-and-pop grocery (although in truth, this was just a mom operation, pop was long gone). This was back in the dark ages, when chain grocery stores did not have delis and they pre-packaged all the fresh produce so you could not pick your own from their displays. Eventually, the chains caught on and opened delis and stopped shrink wrapping the produce. Then along came Walmart, where not only could you shop for groceries, but just about anything else you might want, a modern day general store. Even Target now sells food.

As a working mother, even though I might have wanted to support the mom-and-pop operations, the convenience of one-stop shopping won me over. And it didn't really matter which store I one-stop shopped at, as they all offered the same products.

And then things changed.

First came the option of buying organic and "health" foods. While many of the chains now also offer what could previously be purchased only at food co-ops and health food stores, their selection is not as complete, nor do they vet what they offer. So now I became a two-stop shopper.

Then came the exhortation to buy local. The food co-op I frequent offers some items from local producers, but not always. So now I buy some food direct from local farmers and also frequent farmers markets. We have one FM that is open year round, so in winter you can still purchase local lettuce, potatoes, squash, plus locally roasted coffee (but is it fair trade?!?), locally baked baked goods, etc.

Then some smaller chains started moving into the area. One is Earth Fare. Their offerings are more varied than the food co-op, plus there is fresh meat. I can walk to it, reducing my carbon footprint while getting in some steps. And I like their bread. Another new store is Just in Thyme, which has not yet opened but is supposed to be modeled like a farmers market.

And then to make things even more complicated, the chains are either shifting, even limiting, many of their offerings to their store brands (Kroger, I'm talking about you) and/or not carrying the particular items I purchase at all.

This phenomenon is not limited to food. A walk through the mall reveals that many of the stores offer the same clothing styles, sometimes even the same clothing lines. In department stores, the selection of towels and linens is severely limited in styles and colors. There are common items I have purchased before that NO ONE carries today. The most recent example is sheers in lengths less than 84". Several years ago I was able to buy these at Target, but no more. Nor at the other stores I visited. An online search indicates that I can no longer purchase them anywhere. It looks like I will have to actually make them myself.

Maybe if I lived in a large metropolitan area, I would not see my shopping options contract even as the stores themselves expand. Here in the midlands, though, everything looks alike, everyone dresses alike, everyone does the same thing. I guess that makes me the weirdo.

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

Summer reading

Like many of you, summertime is when I catch up on some reading, more so now that I am retired. "Summer reading" (as opposed to fall, winter, spring reading?) usually connotes light stuff. On that end of the scale, I recently read two non-knitterly books by two knitting authors.

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee usually writes books of knitting humor. Yes, knitting can be funny, but mostly just to other knitters. Her latest book is just humor, no knitting knowledge required. The Amazing Thing about the Way It Goes contains essays, a couple of which are polished versions of stories told on her blog, but most of which are new-to-me. Common themes are marriage and parenting and self esteem, and they are likely to appeal more to women than men. A few of the essays are more serious than funny, and most are more amusing than laugh-out-loud funny (although I did laugh out loud more than once). I have heard Stephanie speak before, and quite frankly, her extemporaneous stories are much, much funnier, roll-on-the-floor-with-tears-running-down-your-cheeks kind of funny. Maybe she should try stand-up. Anyway, for a light read, I recommend this book.

Ann Shayne is one half of Mason-Dixon Knitting and co-author of two knitting books. When she self-published a novel, I admit my expectations were low. Not because she does not write well, but rather because of my snobbish, self-published-first-novel prejudices. Well, I was pleasantly surprised by Bowling Avenue, and in a big way. The book is about Nashville and is told in an Anne Tyler-lite sort of way, with lots of strong character development and great dialog and imagery. I definitely recommend this book for any time of the year.

At the other end of the spectrum, I have been slogging through Fooled by Randomness, by Nassim Nicholas Taleb. It's not that it is not interesting, but I find Taleb's writing style difficult to read. Also, I don't know much about the stock market beyond buy-low-sell-high, so some of it is simply lost on me. Some would take umbrage with his ideas about how our successes (and failures) are primarily the result of random luck. I half agree with him, as otherwise I don't have much explanation for why my life has been relatively easy. There have been tough parts and sad parts, sure, but nothing catastrophic or tragic (knock on wood). Every "good" decision I made might not have been so good given different circumstances, and none of my "bad" choices were so bad that I could not recover from them. I'm not sure I will finish this one, but the library has another by Taleb, The Black Swan, on CD, so I may try that instead.

Another not-so-light read is All the Rage, by A.L Kennedy, who has won lots of awards. This collection of short stories are not stories in the common sense of the word. They require careful reading (at least, by me) or else risk making no sense at all; I've already had to read one twice and I still don't quite get the ending. Maybe if I were smarter or had majored in English (like I *almost* did), I would not find this book quite so difficult. Or maybe I just need to go out to Good Reads and see what others have to say. Then maybe I'll get it.

(In fact, becoming at least a lurker on Good Reads sounds like a very good idea, now that I have the time for that sort of thing.)

The last book I'll describe here is All the Birds, Singing, by Evie Wyld. The format of this novel is intriguing, as the story begins in the middle, then in alternate chapters, works its way to both the beginning and end. Consequently, I was expecting not one, but *two* payoffs. Unfortunately, I was disappointed about both the beginning and the end of the story. Otherwise, I might have reread the book chronologically, just for fun.

Oh, one more, definitely for light reading: Have a Nice Guilt Trip, by mother-daughter Lisa Scottoline and Francesca Serritella (but mostly Lisa). I previously read Why My Third Husband Will Be a Dog, so was primed to be entertained, and I was. You will be, too.

What are you reading this summer?

Monday, July 07, 2014

So far, so good

When I decided to retire, I wondered how I would adapt to not going to work. It turns out I am adapting very well. Every day is Saturday, except for Sunday, when the morning paper is fatter. Besides a few work-related dreams, I rarely even think about the company I worked for or the people I worked with. Forward ho!

My so-called schedule, on the other hand, is in flux. BR (Before Retirement), there were certain things that had to happen on weekends or evenings. Now, not so much. I can get my hair cut at 9am instead of 5pm. I can do laundry any day of the week I want. Wednesday date night has become Wednesday date day. Housework can happen any ol' time.

I find I am sleeping better. Instead of fighting bedtime (you'd think I'd be too old for that nonsense, but at the end of a workday, I hated to give up any free time to slumber), I become truly sleepy eyed around 10pm. I set the alarm for 7am, but am usually up before then. There are still awakenings in the middle of the night, but none of this wide-awake-at-3am business. And the afternoon naps are delicious.

Speaking of delicious, I am eating better. Without a cafeteria or vending area nearby, but plenty of time, I fix three real meals a day, with vegetables and everything. The result is I am also eating less. BR, it was a struggle to stay under 2000 calories a day. Now, I seem satisfied with 1200-1500. A few pounds have been shed already.

I can't help but be more active now that I don't spend all day in an office chair in front of a computer. A typical day finds me in the garden all morning, puttering around inside during the afternoon, outside again in the evening, either back to the garden or taking a walk around the nabe. Time is no longer of the essence, so I can walk up to the grocery or the library - it's only 20 minutes round trip. I thought I would do more housework, but pfft. I'm the only one who lives here, so until it gets so bad even I can't stand it, cleaning remains on the back burner.

I actually watched two movies this past week, "Seraphine" and "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel". I finished a book, All the Birds, Singing, and started another one, Bowling Avenue. I usually knit for 1-2 hours a day. Tomorrow I babysit my granddaughter, in the middle of the week. Just unheard of BR.

They say happiness is an internal thing, but it turns out happiness can be encouraged by changing one's external circumstances. Again, I am fortunate to be able to enjoy this time. I don't have the money for fancy cruises or foreign travel, so it is a good thing I am not too interested in either. I am deliberately not taking on anything new over the next six months, while I decompress. Then, who knows?

Saturday, June 28, 2014

It is finished

After way-too-many-years as a software developer (more or less), I decided to call it quits. As I look back on those years, the far and the near, I don't quite know what to think. I followed my bliss, but my bliss emigrated. My first job was the best, and they went downhill from there. Being unwilling to relocate probably hurt my career, but at the end, what does it matter? The final employer turned out to be the best in terms of salary and benefits (one of which is the opportunity to retire early) even though the work was the most stultifying. Somehow, through a combination of working hard enough, making good enough decisions, and having good enough luck, I managed to get where I am: healthy enough, wealthy enough, with hopefully enough time to enjoy it.

Retirement is one of those one-off things to look forward to, like menopause. You think it will never happen, and then suddenly, you are on the doorstep. The past few years, I wondered how I would know it was time to go. Then it happened - I went into my annual review, thinking everything was hunky dory, only to be told I was not working hard enough, my work was not good enough, I was a burden to my co-workers. The next year looked like one big slog, and I discovered not only did I not want to work harder, I did not want to work at all. I waited a while to make sure I was not doing something rash before making my final decision, but frankly, once I *seriously* considered retiring, there was no going back. For a while, I fumed about the circumstances behind my decision, but one day I realized just how lucky I am to have early retirement as an option. And I have been happy ever since.

Yesterday was my final day. I turned in my computer, gathered up what I had not yet taken home, and left my ID badge at the front desk. I thought I might get a little teary eyed, but that did not happen. There is some anxiety about who I will be going forward, but I'm still me (which in some ways is a disappointment). We'll see how the rest of my life unfolds. So far, so good.

Sunday, June 22, 2014

24 hours with a pre-schooler

Last weekend the granddaughter slept over Friday night and spent all day Saturday in the company of oldsters. Friday nights are not my best - end of the work week - so I was a little reluctant about this plan. But duty called and I girded my loins. No worries, though. All went well.

Now that N is potty trained and capable of speaking in complete sentences, it is a new level of care that is required, one that is more fun and more interesting. We can be out and about without a diaper bag. We can spend literally HOURS "riding bikes" up and down the driveway (glad I had it redone). She is a bundle of energy that keeps me moving.

Lots of room to run at the playground.

Our conversations and her leaps of logic keep me entertained. For example, "Grandpa D* is old because he lives far away." Um, yes, he's old but it has nothing to do with how far away he lives. "You're old." Yes, but not as old as Grandpa D. Looking at the photos on my fireplace mantel, she had nothing to say when I explained that my grandfather had a hook for a hand, just like Captain Hook, but later she related the whole story to her mom. A little sponge, that one.

This is NOT Grandpa D.

N is also past the need for naps, for the most part, but neither of us got a full night's sleep. Knowing she would not want to nap, I told her she just had to stay on the bed while Grandma rested, then I played a relaxation YouTube video on my phone. The results were predictable.

Don't say the N word.

She now has a tricycle to keep at my house. I dragged my bike out, so we could ride together, and even went up and down the block. It was slow going, so I sat on my bike while pushing with my left leg. The next day, that leg was useless. The hellishness of getting old is revealed by the young.

*Grandpa D is my ex.

Monday, May 26, 2014

Memorial Day weekend

I spent this weekend with some old friends - friends I have known for a long time, although we are also getting older - at a get-together that has become known as Women's Weekend.

WW began as a reaction to the husbands' Memorial Day weekend canoe trip, which started as a two-day trip down the Eel River, during which the guys ran out of beer and had to call for replenishment. Since then, their annual adventure has become a nearly week-long trip into the wilds of this river or that. Meanwhile, the wives were left at home with the kids and the hope that their spouses' life insurance was paid up. In the spirit of reciprocity, WW was born.

Most years, we got together twice a year, usually at the same location: a reconstructed and modernized log cabin on the property of one of the participants. No phone (and this was before cell phones), a tiny TV which we hooked up to a VCR, no children allowed except nursing babies (and I don't recall that happening too often). While the guys were interested in activity, all we wanted to do was veg.

Initially, WW was about overindulging, in wine, chocolate, card games, R-rated movies we couldn't watch at home, (tobacco) cigarettes we couldn't smoke in front of our kids, etc. Conversation usually centered around our children. Nowadays, we mostly do the same things, but less so, as we are older and more health conscious. We still talk about our kids, but also grandchildren and aging parents and pending retirement and our various and sundry aches and pains.

While the spring meet-up continues, it has become more of a struggle to get together in the fall. You would think, now that the wee ones are adults, it would be easier, but no. Now we are more involved in our jobs and/or communities and/or extended families, doing a lot of the things we couldn't while actively parenting.

We started WW 36 years ago (I think). The first "weekend" was actually an afternoon. After a while, it became an overnight, then an entire weekend, from Friday night to Sunday afternoon. We talk about trying to take a week and travel to somewhere together. Given how difficult it is to arrange a weekend or two, I doubt this will happen, but it is fun to discuss the possibilities.

There is a core group that makes it to almost every WW. There are a few who come when they can. One or two have fallen away entirely. So far, we have not lost any members to death, but that is just a matter of time. It will be interesting to see how our tradition evolves over the next decades. Hopefully, we will be doing this for another 36 years.