I hate end of year retrospectives

So here is my retrospective for 2018, focused on activities (in red for quick perusal) and purchases (in green) which added to my joy bucket:

I volunteered one day a week for AARP Tax Aid program. I was able to employ some of my skills and knowledge (including ad lib silliness and ability to fake a pleasant and nonjudgmental demeanor) It expanded my contacts with random others and heartened me to see other Americans fulfilling a citizenship responsibility with more grace and acceptance than our current tax structure deserves.

My boyfriend and I took a jaunt to Astoria in February for two nights. This annual gathering of Coots http://www.coots.org/ includes one event I always enjoy: the kick-off lunch, wherein an unknowable in advance dozen or so folks gather to share camaraderie and much humor and wit. Then THEY enjoy a tour of the Columbia River Maritime Museum and I spend the day enjoying Astoria's quirks, ambiance, and coffee shops. This has been fun for both of us three years in a row so, rinse and repeat.

In March I took a friend's suggestion (amazingly) and took a class on Zentangle. More classes followed.  This watered my creative garden (long neglected) and gave me much pleasure. Note to self: DO this on your own, silly.

I unfroze my Audible account at $14.95/mo to enable spur of the moment (just because I want to, and it is unavailable through the library now) carbon free book acquisition. I love listening to books. And there is no sane argument why I would squeeze my budget down by this amount for “fiscal prudency”. I have that in abundance, and a dearth of readily attained joys. So There!

I boosted my charitable giving and financial support of pro democracy. Unlike in the past, where I only gave to deductible organizations, I widened it to fund the increased need on the political side to defend fairness, equity, and threatened values. This act does not actually supply joy, so much as it acts as a matching grant against the daily assaults which fill my anger and despair bucket (I acquired a much larger one in Nov. 2016).

I met a fellow tree lover in his role as an arborist. I have two glorious maple trees on the south side of my very shallow yard. They provide visual delight, blessed shade, and roof cooling. I love these guys. I called a tree removal company to assess if these friends are or will be uprooting my house foundation. I would mind that. He said the potential damage could be mitigated, and for my likely 20 more years in the only house I have ever loved, they can continue to throw shade and beauty at me. Also, we agreed that green moss is awesome.

I found Zumba. It brought joy, but alas, also pain. The only aerobic activity I have been able to do for extended periods is a) scheduled - so I will do it and b) dancing to music. When Jazzercise was available on a suspended floor I could participate. Without that kind of floor, I'm screwed from the soles of my feet to my hips. Note to self: keep looking for that magic combo.

And finally, two purchases that still bring daily joy: Less than $10 shoes laces that do not self untie, and a less than $900 carpet in my "cat room" to replace the much abused one with one designed to shrug off pet interactions (plus it is cushy and a lovely soft brown which delights me every time I go to change the litter box).

Thermal challenges

Don't get me started on Global Warming. In addition to being the dominant threat to all life on earth, it will make my personal comfort both more expensive (in dollars and carbon) and less possible (I can't fix outside to my preferences - and almost all humanity is unknowingly grateful for this.). But this time of year, thoughts turn toward improving the comfort of the few friends who visit my house.

Actually, they are uncomfortable in my house year round, as my thermostat is set to 68 degrees in the summer, and 60 degrees in the winter; I just have less chance of thinking about them being too chilly when I am too warm at 68. That meager comfort (for me) temperature range is all I have to work with. However, I can offer warming technology to my visitors. Here are my offerings in order of ascending carbon cost:

A reminder to wear more clothing when visiting
Extra coats, gloves, hats and lap robes
The comfort of a hot water bottle (slight delay in results)
An electric heating pad that lives on my couch which will toast you right up
My amazing Bed Jet https://bedjet.com/ system (if we have a close enough relationship)

Off the menu: either additional heating, or reduced cooling of entire house.

I use all of the above when I am chilly. This occurs daily during the cold season at about 9 am and lasts for a few hours. This condition would be very welcome at bed time, as that is when my off the charts self warming capabilities kick into high gear. I get to actually enjoy that feeling of snug warmth in a bed jet heated bed for a nap with my cat at this time of day. As I generally wake between 1 and 3 am (Why oh why?), I am often dozy at this hour. However, even in a 60 degree room, wearing a skimpy cotton night gown, covered by only light cotton covers, I must employ the cooling function of the bed jet so that I do not awake in a puddle.

If my life were not so replete with choice, comfort, and ease this trial would make the angels weep for me. But I am sure they do not so weep, if they in fact ARE.

PS: Actually (if they exist) they ARE weeping for me. I just googled: how much to lower heat at night and got an in depth analysis at https://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/columns/straight-dope/article/13039881/straight-dope-does-setting-the-heat-lower-at-night-really. This has convinced me to go down to 54 overnight, with no concern that I will fail to raise it again when I get up.

PPS: Guaranteed side effect: increased feline apparent affection.

PPPS: I had a programmable thermostat which lost it's mind periodically, necessitating a tedious reprogramming ritual that annoyed this near Luddite.

Boxing Day and other oddities

My favorite day of the year (Boxing) and least favorite (New Year's) arrive cheek by jowl. I do not have any particular activities planned today, just a deep sigh of relief that Xmas is now a year away. 

And to me the NEW YEAR means only a few real things: 

A new calendar featuring one of my favorite rodents or another endearing critter (see Note 1)
Starting at $0 on every medical insurance deductible in my safely net
Almost nothing of interest will be open on this holiday dominated by 2 stupid activities (see Note 2)
Gyms and weight loss meetings become (briefly) zealously crowded - OK, that hasn't mattered to me for years now
Bakeries become (briefly) lightly and/or guiltily frequented   
Another year we will likely suffer under Individual 1 without a break or blessed surcease

Everything else seems either contrived or non-existent. Thus I get no thrill out of a new year (except the fresh calendar, of course) and a fair amount of annoyance. However, if it is not too inclement I plan to observe folks in town participating in a "polar plunge" in the Willamette river. I caught this event a few years ago by accident and was transfixed by the level of enthusiasm to suffer, the will to be silly, and a palpable sense of goodwill. It raised my spirits quite a bit for a measurable time span! (see Note 3) Not bad for a stupid holiday in the dead of winter (see Note 4)

Note 1: My 2018 Calendar pictured above from "MegaCalendars"
Note 2: Hangover recovery and televised bowl games
Note 3: 2019 Polar Plunge is scheduled for 02/09/2019. Dang
Note 4: I will have to self-raise my spirits 01/01/2019 by practicing "2019" for the rare manual checks I will still write.

Xmas Overload

I thought I was holding my own against the avalanche of seasonal madness. But, alas, the manic traffic, ever heftier ad section of the newspaper, and folks sharing with me their frightening YET TO DO lists, took it’s inevitable toll.

I am fresh out of equanimity let alone goodwill toward men, et al. I can opt out of most of this except getting asked by strangers everywhere I go (to acquire sustenance items only) some version of: are you ready for Christmas? have you done all your shopping? do you have plans to visit family? etc. To which my honest (and unvoiced) responses are yes (please let it be over soon), yes (as I no longer do that) and no (they are all dead or emotionally distant). I even had to respond to my emotionally distant brother that (as he should know by now) I have no lavish or even meager special plans for the holiday.

I do however plan to have Christmas dinner with my boyfriend. In celebration of our weekly $12 Tuesdays at Papa Murphy’s we will share a take (and add an entire onion and other embellishments) and bake pizza. We will stream some dark and/or silly TV, and drive the cat crazy with the elusive red laser dot.

………And to all, a good night.

How I was prescient about Facebook

About fifteen years ago I reluctantly opened a Facebook account in order to know what some of my friends were up to. A close group of us (5) regularly lunched together, but that became more and more difficult to schedule. When we did meet, goings on that had been shared on FB were news to me! So, reluctantly I signed up. (Critical note: having no children or grandchildren to keep up with, FB was entirely optional for me.)

I rapidly became annoyed by the level of banal responses to postings on postings on postings from friends of friends of strangers, yada yada yada. Within this barrage of chafe there were a few seeds that were of interest to me. But as I am a thorough-going minimalist in nearly every way, I was unequal to maintaining my sanity in that storm.

In addition to the affront to my preference for curated incoming data, was an instinct that FB was THE EVIL EMPIRE. I was not prescient enough to know exactly how it was evil, but surely it WAS evil. And so it has proven to be. It is a blight on our national conversation, and even worse than that in countries where it’s the dominant access point to the internet. In addition, it has proven to be a tremendous time suck and distraction generator for many folks who choose to (or must) respond whenever it calls. I see all those bowed heads, faces illuminated by flickering light “connecting” with someone via FB while sitting across from a live person. Surely this in not an enhancement to real connections with others.

I do not have a solution for more social folks than I (nearly everyone, it seems), nor for folks with must-follow family and friends who share their lives on this platform. But I am serenely and smugly satisfied with the “just say no solution” for me. 

I Bake my First Pie

In my early teens I began my unimpressive culinary explorations with desserts. Mom encouraged me to try a few easy dinners (in the same spirit in which she encouraged me to drive: so she could do less of it). I made a passable Spanish rice. But I excelled at cookies, no bake Rice Crispy bars and brownies (cook what you love!). The only available cookbook was a 1960’s edition of Joy of Cooking.

If you are familiar with this grimoire you know that it seduces you with an apparently brief recipe which on closer examination is found to be a compendium of imbedded sub recipes. Daunting on a good day.

For some reason, lost to time and my eroding memory, I decided to bake a pie one day. To my knowledge, my mom had never baked a pie, but that did not register as boding ill for such an endeavor. I scoured J of C for a pie recipe for which all ingredients were on hand. Bingo: Lemon Chiffon!

So, carefully following the imbedded recipes, I embarked. Before Mom got home from her unpaid “job” spent knitting and talking at a downtown knit shop, I had a finished pie of which I was quite proud.

When mom got home she goggled at the pie, and asked where THAT came from. I told her I had baked it!  She said (and I recall THIS indelibly) “but those are hard”! In complete ignorance I replied “they are?”

That was my first experience of having success at something when I relied on instincts and uniformed optimism. In many subsequent first-time endeavors this was repeated: what I have not over-thunk goes better than post thunk. This was also my last pie. In the pithy words of my Dad: “I have done that twice now - the first time and the last time”. I retired from pie baking with an unblemished record of success.

Poem to the Emperor

I fell in love with penguins

Who choose an improbable ecosystem

In this way Emperors rule

Below Antarctic Circle

In addition to bitter cold, howling wind

Half the year spent in darkness

A desperate egg hand[1] off

Mom feet to dad feet over the deadly cold

Then mom will fatten on fish

Dads with an egg or egg less

Create a slow stirring circular huddle

Icy edge to warm center
  

Moms ludicrous[2] to chow line

Found where ice sheet edge meets nearly frozen sea

Mom plunges in at zoom[3] speed

Dads abide in cold and dark,

Brave many months of devotional famine

Survival focused on egg

Moms gorge for the journey back

Packing on pounds which emphasize her ovalness

And enable her whee[4] speed

The chick crèche calls out sweetly

Returning adults find one chick from within

The haunting soft trumpet cloud

The iconic Emperor

Photo of tiny chick on parental feet

Feathering toward his fledge

---

[1]  Technically it is a foot and beak off

[2]  Ludicrous is first gear, that classic waddle

[3]  Zoom is third gear, water based

[4]  Whee is second gear, breast stroke on down sloped ice