Planning Ahead

It began with a joke I made during a recent sit down with my financial guy. We talked about my spending over the first six months of the year and my biggest expenditures came back-to-back – first my Connie Cat's surgery and then my trip to the TCM Film Festival. Yeah, I bought a new mattress and bed, but that came in distant third. 

 

As we discussed this, it washed over to me that my lifestyle is different from my friends. "Elaine went to Paris, Lisa went to Ireland, and I went to vet." I thought it was funny.

 

"You know," Jonathan said, scrolling through my financials on his screen, "If you wanted to go to Europe, we could make that happen." My spending over the last two years has been less than we projected. I'm OK with that. We still have two+ years of Donald Trump with his fakakta tariffs and international adventurism and insistence that "affordability" is a Democratic hoax. To say I don't trust him with our economy is an understatement of almost epic proportions, so I'm good with being conservative with my personal finances. 

 

But Jonathan got me thinking about my future and what purchases would make me happy. I need a nice new winter coat, but I think that will be my only big fall/winter apparel purchase. I love my sweaters, but I already have a shit-ton of them and I got two pair of boots last winter.

 

There's a new refrigerator on my horizon. But I neither want nor need bells and whistles there. I'm dragging my feet on this more out of reluctance to toss more steel and copper into the landfill than financial concern.

 

I want to visit my niece and little Violet a couple times before the year is over. I'm attending Noir City Chicago for several nights and I'm headed to Wrigley Field to see my guys, and while I will be spending a lot, it's not on a par with a trip to Europe. 

 

I don't want to go to Europe. I just don't. I'd like to go to Springfield, IL to visit Abe, but that's a hotel and an Amtrak ticket.

 

I am looking forward to the TCM Film Festival in 2027, and I'm excited that I can do it in an elevated way. I know what hotel I want to stay at: The Loews Hollywood. The location is perfect. While I don't think I want to upgrade my room – I'm really not in the room that much – I would like to take advantage of room service more often. Jonathan says I can afford it.

 

But most of all, there's Meeow Chicago. When I'm at the Loews, Connie and Roy Hobbs will be enjoying luxurious digs, too. They can share a suite with a skylight and a climbing tree and boxes to hide in. Best of all, they will have staff attending them from 7 am to 7 pm each day and will be monitored overnight. I'll get photos and text updates every day. I've emailed the owner, who outlined their protocol in case of emergency, which I find comforting.

 

I will have more fun in Hollywood knowing Connie and Roy Hobbs will be under constant scrutiny and care. I take my responsibility to them very seriously. I may not want to go to Europe, but I want to do this, and I'm grateful I can afford it.

 

 

 

I think I want a divorce

Monday will be my last workday of 2025. I have very mixed feelings about this.

Months ago, I put in for vacation from 12/22 to 12/29 because I didn't know a) what day Elaine would want to go to The Music Box Theater to see It's A Wonderful Life, which has become an important holiday tradition for us and b) when I would be traveling to Michigan to celebrate Baby Violet's first Christmas. 

Around Thanksgiving, I heard that two very lovely young women – Dierdre and Madeline – were coming home from college to work Christmas break. I told our store manager, Helena, that I was OK with her giving some of my hours to the girls. I emphasized that it wasn't that I don't care about the job, it's that I understood how much Diedre and Madeline needed cash. After all, they are making their eating money for the last semester, whereas I'm really working for the state tax deduction. She said she understood. 

So I guess it stands to reason that I'm not working. Didn't I engineer that way?

Yet when I looked at the schedule through January 2 and didn't see my name, I got worried. Is this because I complained to Helena about Caroline? Or simply because I asked for the time off and said I was okay with fewer hours?

Probably the latter. But the fact that the former even occurred to me is an indicator of how unsettled I've become at this job. I hate that I'm thinking about the card shop when I'm not there, and not in a good way. The workplace vibe is different since the cast of characters changed a bit last autumn. I'm not happy there. I like the physical structure – it's a quaint shop. We sell pretty, fragrant things. Our customers are, by and large, happy and friendly. It's us I don't care for anymore. I don't like the team. It's not a comfortable fit anymore.

I don't want to work there as it is. I want to work there as it was. 

Looking back on my working career, I have found myself here before. I believe in the work but not my coworkers. I always stuck it out before because I felt I had a responsibility to my client and, oh yeah, I was highly paid. I feel no such obligation at the card shop and while I like the money, I don't need the money. When my financial advisor ran the numbers and laid out my retirement, he didn't even take my current salary into account. 

I find myself fantasizing about quitting, about using that time to volunteer on upcoming political campaigns and the food pantry. Maybe after two years it's time to retire again and let a new chapter of my life begin.

But maybe I'm in a mood. I don't want to walk away from something I have enjoyed – something that has enriched my life by teaching me new things – on a whim. On the other hand, I don't want to stay too long at the fair.  

Here we are at Christmas. Rumor has it corporate may be making changes to our little shop before summertime. Maybe the decision will be made for me. 

I'm going to monitor my mood. I'm going to discuss it with my shrink. I'm going to pray on it. I don't want to pull the trigger too soon and regret quitting. On the other hand, I don't want to waste my life dreading a job that really – in the scheme of things – is not worth the agita.

 

  

Photo by Siora on Unsplash 

 

Pinched nerve and brain fart

I woke up Tuesday morning unable to move my left arm without great difficulty. This happened once before, at the end of 2024, so while I hurt I wasn't frightened. I knew it was a pinched nerve in my neck. Painful but not dangerous. As luck would have it, I already had an chiropractor appointment scheduled for today – Friday, three days later. Since this wasn't an emergency, I could see no reason to move the appointment up. 

I am an idiot. 

For three days I was uncomfortable. If I was still, my arm was fine. But I couldn't raise it without pain. Everything – showering, grocery shopping, feeding the cats, laundry – was arduous. I had a hard time finding a position to sleep comfortably. The nerve was not responding to OTC pain killers. So I was sleep deprived and hurt.

And from Monday morning to Tuesday afternoon we were without hot water, so there's that. 

To say I was not at my best would be an understatement. 

Chronic pain and lack of sleep made me stupid. Yesterday, instead of taking money out of my high-yield savings account and depositing it into my checking account, I did it the other way around. I was not paying attention as I clicked. I fucked up.

This morning I got an alert from bank that my checking account was overdrawn. I was terrified, afraid I'd been hacked. No, I just made a stupid, stupid mistake. (AGAIN!) After spending time on the phone with both banks, I finally got it ironed out and hopefully, by end of business Monday, all my funds will be where I want them.

I realize that working decades for big companies, I've been infantilized. Funds just appeared in my checking account twice/month. Left to my own devices, I mess up.

Just as I thought my self loathing had reached a fever pitch, I dialed it up to 11. I went to my chiropractor and she felt where my neck meets my shoulder. 

"Of course you hurt!" she said. I got on the table and she twisted, pressed and popped and I was fine. No pain, full range of motion restored.

"You should have called me," she said. Duh, Gal. I went through 3 days of pain for no good reason. Really, she remedied the problem in minutes! 

I'm such an ass.

Here's to an uneventful, enjoyable weekend. I need it!

 

Photo by Klara Kulikova on Unsplash 

August Happiness Challenge – Day 31

My 2025 Happiness Icon

Today's happiness: Freedom. Not in the red/white/blue sense. Since it appears likely that Chicago will soon be invaded by federal troops, I'm not feeling that right now.

 

Today it made me happy that I had the freedom to do absolutely nothing. I awoke with a wonky gut. Back in my old life, I would have dosed myself with Imodium so I could keep going. This morning, I fed the cats, ate some bread for breakfast, and went back to bed, where I stayed until 5:00 PM. I only got up to ... well, you know. Why does this make me happy? Since I no longer have a full time job, I don't have to get all my errands and laundry done on weekends. I'm glad I was able to let my body work it through. I bet I'll feel better tomorrow than I would if I'd gone the loperamide route. So I'm happy I got to take care of myself in the way I felt that was best for me – not my clients or my coworkers.

 

Happy August Happiness Challenge!

 

Each day in August you are to post about something that makes *you* happy. Pretty simple. And, it doesn't even have to be every day if you don't want it to be. It's a great way to remind ourselves that there are positive things going on in our lives, our communities, and the world.

Photo by Ayşegül Baykal on Unsplash

 

Sunday Stealing

About Blogging

1. When are you at your blogging best – a.m. or p.m.? I am at my blogging best when I feel like blogging. The impulse hits me at different times.

2. How many blogs do you have? Please include the links in your answer. In addition to this blog, I am part of the massive team that helps Crazy Sam with Saturday 9 and Sunday Stealing.

3. Do you prefer silence when you compose your posts and write your comments? No. I have tinnitus, and when there's silence I'm distracted by the whooshing. It sounds like I'm forever holding a seashell to my ear. I don't notice it at all if there's the TV or music on.

4. What's the grossest thing you've ever spilled on your keyboard? Let's see, it wasn't gross and, technically speaking, I'm not the one who spilled it. Years ago – I believe the statute of limitations has expired – my cat Reynaldo was jealous of the time I was spending on my work laptop and spilled a nearby margarita. I thought I got most of it before it reached the computer. I was wrong about that. About 12 hours later, when I was back at the office, it started to crap out. IT replaced it with no questions asked, which obviously made me happy.

 5. Ever posted while intoxicated? Posted on my blog? No. Which is not to say I've never written under the influence. I was in advertising for 43 years. At my last job, we had a beer keg in the kitchen (our biggest client, a beer company, sent a new one regularly) and wine was served every day at 4:00. I had a bottle of vodka in my bottom desk drawer at all times and, well, there was the aforementioned margarita incident. But no, I have never posted to this blog while intoxicated. 

Now that I'm no longer in advertising, I realize this is not de rigeur in other work settings. For example, we don't pound 'em back at the card shop. But watch Mad Men. It's just how it is. It's hard to come up with creative concepts on demand and work with a team to deliver them to a timeline. And once I agreed to a deadline, I never missed it. (I've been retired since 10/22 and almost three years later, I still have nightmares about the stress of that job.)

 

Not a good week for The Class of 75

My oldest friend is in the hospital (see post below), and our classmate Judy died. Judy reached out to me via Facebook Messenger about six months ago, but I pretended I didn't see it. She hurt me so badly, there was always so much drama in her wake, I didn't see the point. I don't regret the decision, but I do honor and mourn the nerdy teenage girls we were, and I'm sorry her last decade was so painful.

I keep getting messages asking if I'm going to attend our 50th high school reunion. I don't answer them. I showed up at high school as little as possible when The State of Illinois mandated my attendance. I'm certainly not going back by choice now. 

But it is on my mind. Here I am, reasonably healthy. Oh, I'm fat and my knees bother me. If I don't get back on the water-drinking bandwagon, I'll develop kidney stones again. But, for the most part, I'm OK. Certainly I have not suffered as Judy and my oldest friend have.

I'm not a wealthy woman, but I'm OK. My cat Connie needs expensive dental work – more expensive than I had anticipated – but I can pay for it. I'll be able to afford trips up to Michigan to meet my niece's baby this fall and then spend Christmas with them. (And I've been picking up presents for them.) I plan on attending the TCM Classic Film Festival in Hollywood next year. When I want to go out to lunch or dinner with my friends, I have cash to cover it. My oldest friend is broke and couldn't afford to go anywhere, even if she was physically able.

My 2BR condo is a hovel. Really, I can't get over the disrepair I've allowed it to fall into. On the other hand, I'm paying down a 3.35% APR mortgage and my monthly housing cost (mortgage and assessment) is only $1100/month. I couldn't rent a 2BR in this neighborhood for $1100/month. That would get me a studio. Judy and her husband lived in a 1st floor studio. (Though she was in assisted living when she died.) My oldest friend rents a room in a ranch house – she shares her bathroom and kitchen with three other people. 

My friend John died a year ago last month. My friend Henry died a year ago next month. They both suffered a great deal physically and financially at the end of their lives, too. They weren't part of The Class of 75 – John graduated in 1972 and Henry in 1980 – but close enough.

Right now I am sad. I am confused. I am grateful. To borrow from Anthony Rizzo in Game 7 (who borrowed it from Will Ferrell in Anchorman): I'm in a glass cage of emotions.

Ssturday 9

Saturday 9: Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now (1987)

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

1) In this song, Gracie Slick challenges, "Let them say we're crazy!" Tell us about something you're glad you did, even though your friends or family may have advised you against it. Going on vacation alone. Decades ago – back in the 1990s – a friend and I bought a spa package to the Arlington in Hot Springs. Her little boy (now married!) got sick and she cancelled at the last minute when it was too late for us to get a full refund. I went by myself and had double the hot tub soaks and massages. It was bliss! I began taking solo spa trips every spring for years. I was warned it wasn't safe, that I would be lonely, that it would feel awkward. It never was any of those things. I always came back from these trips rejuvenated by the alone time, and with more focus and insight. 

 

2) Slick is the lead singer of Jefferson Starship. This band got its start in 1965 as Jefferson Airplane but updated their name in 1974. Part of their reasoning was that by the 1970s, airplane travel was commonplace. In 2023, an estimated 820 million Americans flew domestically. When was your most recent flight? When is your next one? My last flight was ORD-LAX and back for the TCM Classic Film Festival last month. My next will be to/from Grand Rapids, Michigan. My niece is adopting a baby who will be born in June. I hope to travel up there some time in the early fall to meet my grand niece.🤞

 
3) Songwriter Albert Hammond said the song was inspired by his divorce. After years of legal wrangling, he was finally free to marry his long-time, long-suffering girlfriend. They're still married today. What is something you waited a long time for? Was it worth the wait? Retirement! As with any major life event, it was disruptive, a little scary and took me a long time to get used to. But yes, I love being able to call my days my own for the first time since I was 17.

 

4) Albert Hammond is perhaps best known as the one-hit wonder who sang, "It Never Rains in Southern California." Is rain expected where you are today? No.

 

5) He co-wrote the song with Diane Warren. In January, she lost her home to the Los Angeles fires. When a friend is confronted by heartache or tragedy, what can you say or do for them? What shouldn't you say or do? I tell them they are in my heart and my prayers. I send cards and emails to reinforce that I am here for them. I do not tell them this (whatever it is) was God's will. I am not presumptuous enough to speak for God! Plus everyone's relationship with God is individual and I respect that. BTW, something Joe Biden often said has helped me through a period of grief: "There will come a day, I promise you, that the memory of your loved one will bring a smile to your lips before it brings a tear to your eye." Wise, sensitive and hopeful words.

6) "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now" was the love theme to the romantic fantasy Mannequin. In that movie, a department store mannequin comes to life and falls for a struggling artist. While it was a moderate success at the box office, the gritty Vietnam drama Platoon was a much bigger hit. When you sit down to watch a movie, what genre would you prefer (fantasy, romance, comedy, drama, etc.)? I have a hankering to spend time with the Marx Brothers, so my answer must be comedy. (I love watching Groucho dance. The man cracks me up. And Harpo is so adorable.)

 

 
7) In 1987, when this song was popular, Aretha Franklin became the first woman inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Aretha was proud of her Detroit roots. Have you been to Michigan? If yes, where did you go? I've been to Kalamazoo and Grand Rapids to visit various family members. I've never been to Detroit. It might be fun to go up there to see the Tigers play.

 

8) In 1987, the Chevy Corvette made news by adding a low tire pressure light to its dashboard. When you're driving and a yellow warning light comes on, do you handle the issue promptly? Or is it something you'll get to when you get around to it? No car. But I did learn, while I was working for a car care client, that drivers often consider yellow or orange warning lights as "low priority." That attitude, while common, is a good way to do real damage to your vehicle. (Listen to the lady who doesn't drive.)

9) Random question: A magic mirror reflects your appearance five years from today. Would you look at it? I don't know. I lost two close friends in 2024 and wonder how I would feel if I looked into the mirror and didn't see anything. (I know, that's a serious answer to a frivolous question. Sorry to be such a bummer.)

 

 

Saturday 9

Saturday 9: Georgia on My Mind (1978)

Unfamiliar with this week's tune? Hear it here.

1) This lyrics refer to "an old sweet song." What old sweet song is a favorite of yours? "More Than You Know" was published in 1929. This is one of my favorite Streisand performances.  

 

 

 

2) Composer Hoagy Carmichael said he was inspired by saxophonist Frankie Trumbauer to write a song about Georgia. In those days, bands traveled by bus and Frankie enjoyed rolling through Georgia. Hoagy recalled that Frankie even volunteered the first two words, "Georgia, Georgia ..." If we were to organize a Saturday 9 bus trip, where would you recommend we go for lovely scenery? Arkansas. I used to take an annual spring spa trip to Hot Springs and there was a courtesy van that would pick me up at the airport in Little Rock and take me to my hotel. The hour-long drive was lovely. Lots of rolling hills and dense green foliage. I love Chicagoland, but it's very flat here and in late March, the trees are still bare, so I really enjoyed that drive.

 

3) This version of "Georgia on My Mind" was controversial before it was even recorded. Willie Nelson's label, Columbia, didn't see the point of their outlaw country star singing an old standard that was associated with Ray Charles and Ella Fitzgerald. Willie had the last laugh. This record was a hit and Willie won a Grammy. Tell us about a time when you were a success despite opposition. Oh, this is an example of why I'm glad to be out of advertising. My client wanted us to save them money by encouraging customers to pay bills online rather than through the mail. I suggested using a simple front/back "buck slip" inserted in their monthly statement. One side would say, "Go Paperless. Save  Trees." and the other side would show how paper – and trees – could be saved annually if just 10% of customers switched to online payment.

 

My boss thought it was a good idea, but that I was "wasting" it on a buck slip. "No one reads those!" he insisted. Why don't we send a letter? It's more likely to be read and we would have more space to do an emotional appeal about saving water and trees and landfill space ... how we'd be helping future generations ... how we could toss in a buck slip but it would show a child planting a seedling on the front ...

 

I was like, "But we'd using more paper to discuss how bad using paper is." After all, his idea would include a separate envelope and an additional 8 1/2 x 11 sheet. As a consumer, that would set off my bullshit meter. Plus it would cost the client more in production and postage. My boss argued, "It will pay for itself."

 

He really didn't like being disagreed with.  At least not by me. He said he would present both concepts to the client and let them decide. HE would present? He never presented! I knew what he would do: he'd say, "you could just do a nice little buck slip ... or an effective, heart-tugging appeal that's certain to change minds and behavior." 

Well, based on the cost of the two concepts, the client chose mine. Every step of the way through execution, my boss bitched and complained. "I can't believe they chose THIS!" he would say as he approved first the copy, then the layout, then the final print. Over and over he made it clear that my idea was deficient and lame.

 

He was the Vice President/Creative Director. He could have killed my idea before the client ever saw it. Instead he presented it, along with his own, just so he could prove me wrong. Put me in my place. What a petty shit he was. We worked for the same agency. Any time the client was happy with us was a win for us. Not in his eyes. 

 

This kind of thing happened all the freaking time. I'm glad to work at the card shop.

 
4) While it's at odds with his "outlaw" image, Willie was a popular and active high school student. He played three sports and was a member of Future Farmers of America. What school activities did you participate in during your teen years? I wasn't big on participation. I'd join a club at the beginning of the year so I could work on and ride the homecoming float, but then drop out before Christmas.

 

5) Willie once worked as a tree trimmer, so clearly he didn't suffer from acrophobia. How about you? Do you have a fear of heights? Nope.

 

6) He wrote the lyrics to one of his biggest hits, "On the Road Again," during a flight, using the airplane barf bag as scrap paper. That was back in 1980. In 2025, do you handwrite onto note paper, or do you make all your "notes to self" digitally? I scribble on lined paper.

7) In 1978, when Willie was singing "Georgia on My Mind," audiences were flocking to see the movie Grease. What's your favorite song from Grease? The first one that comes to mind is "Summer Nights." Wella, wella, wella, ooh, tell me more, tell me more ... 

8) Also in 1978, Karina Smirnoff was born. After spending her early years in the Ukraine, she came to America and found success on Dancing with the Stars. Are you a DWTS fan? I was during the early seasons but I've lost interest.

 

9) Random question: Do you ever carry a backpack? Not often. I switched to a backpack during my vacation at the TCM Classic Film Festival. It holds so much and made it possible for me to not keep running back to my hotel room. But for day to day, the backpack is in the closet.

 

 

 

 

Where Stable Meets Consistent, You'll Find Me

Photo by Robert McGowan on Unsplash

This is me. Or it would be, if I was younger and stronger and my breasts were still as high they once were.* I feel fine about my life right now. At this moment. Which is noteworthy because I've been worrying. A lot. 

I have friends and loved ones who are struggling. Some have financial issues, some have physical/emotional/cognitive issues, some struggle with both. My friend Mindy, on the other hand, "downsized" to a 3BR, 4BA home in a wealthy northern suburb and has been vacationing in places like Italy and Vietnam. 

When I was working, I better understood my life and my expectations of it. But in retirement, I've felt unmoored. Am I doing it right?

So this month I've been sitting down with the experts and have received their assessments. I didn't intentionally designate February for navel gazing, it's just worked out that way. This is what I've learned:

•  My primary care physician says my cholesterol and blood sugar are "stable." We discussed my spinal stenosis and arthritis but she is happy that I'm managing both with yoga, stretching exercises and chiropractic adjustments, not meds. No diabetes, heart trouble, or hip/knee replacements appear on my (immediate) horizon. In short, for an overweight 67-year-old woman, I'm fine.

•  My clinical psychologist says I'm "consistent." This was, particularly, in response to my concerns about "losing" words. "Lethologica," she called it. A word or phrase will be on the tip of my tongue and I just cannot retrieve it! Yes, it can be an early indicator of Alzheimer's but in and of itself, it's not. She says that in the four+ years we've been working together, my cognitive abilities have remained "consistent." She reassured me that she knows what to look for (she went to doctor school, after all) and if she noticed something amiss we would address it. In short, for a 67-year-old woman, I'm fine.

•  My Chase financial planner and I talked "wealth management." I don't consider myself a rich woman, and I'm not compared to Mindy, but my outlook is not at all dire, either. I can live as I do now for another 25 years. Then, he said, I'd probably have to "make changes" (sell my condo). I almost started to laugh. In 25 years I will be 92! I doubt I'll still be alive, but if I am, I'll already be in assisted living, funded by my long term care insurance and the sale of this condo. I am not worried about having to "readjust my lifestyle" at 92. So, for a 67-year-old woman who wants nothing more than to dine out regularly with friends, provide her two spoiled felines with quality veterinary care, and take a couple of trips each year, I'm fine. BTW, those are domestic trips. Mindy can have Europe and Asia. Right now I'm excited about The TCM Classic Film Festival!

Oh, I'm aware "fine" is not great. In the old Sears mattress ranking of "good-better-best," my life is the equivalent of a mid-priced Serta Perfect Sleeper. My apartment is a hovel. It needs new flooring, fresh paint (drywall in the living room), and a serious "de-junking." I'll look at all that after I have paid the big old special assessment I know is coming our way. 

I don't move enough. I don't drink 8 glasses of water a day, and I have to. My new boss at the card shop has been giving me incremental hours -- yay! -- but these longer shifts on my feet leave me exhausted. Seriously, after a 5- or 6-hour shift, I get home and take a two hour nap! So I can see a day when the wage won't be worth the wear-and-tear and I'll hang it up and retire altogether. 

But why borrow trouble? My late minister once said, "Don't waste your dread." Right now, I am fine. For the next five years -- as well as any of us can know anything about what the future holds -- I'll continue to be fine. 

I'm going to sit here for a moment and appreciate the fineness of it all and feel a little gratitude. And chug a cup of water.

 

*Or if I wore red lipstick or would ever allow myself to wear ammunition (!). But you get the idea.

I watched. I learned. I do better in his memory.

My friend John died last April. He was 68, but his body and spirit were so much older. He had congestive heart failure and diabetes. He walked with a cane and was always out of breath. His anxiety issues made his temper short and his world smaller, as he refused to go to new places or meet new people. 

I found the last particularly disturbing. I knew him since he was 25 years old. Back then he was fearless. Often the only Black man in the crowd back in the 1980s. He didn't care. He believed -- correctly -- he had every right to be in any room he entered. He was bored with new clubs and restaurants before I knew they existed. 

Yet once he lost his mobility, he felt fragile and stopped doing things. I don't think I knew he had a temper until about 2022, and then he started displaying it frequently.

With all that was going on, he should have been seeing specialists regularly. Yet he wouldn't go. He had Medicare and Medicare Advantage, so it really wasn't a financial issue. He was scared. He seemed to believe that if no one in a white coat told him he was ill, he wasn't.

He was ill. He was unhappy, and he was in discomfort that likely could have been alleviated with something other than gummies and booze. And he didn't even have a primary care physician.

I am angry at him for dying at 68 because I don't believe it had to happen. I miss him every day. I am struggling to imbue his passing with meaning. And this is where I landed:

He was an example for all his friends who, like him, live alone.

Like John, I have no spouse who sees me day in/day out. No one to tell me if my color is a little off or my mood a little edgier than usual. When I get sick, I have no one to cook for me or get me meds from the drug store. In fact, like John, I don't even have a car. I have to be able to walk to get what I need to exist -- or failing that, a shit ton of money so I can have everything delivered.

So I had a bone density test.  Between Medicare and Medicare Supplement coverage, it was free. It was painless. And guess what: I do not have osteoporosis. I have suffered some bone loss, but my PCP says it can be slowed with an incremental calcium/Vitamin D supplement. Which I got for $11.99 at Walgreen's. My doctor hopes my readings will be exactly where they are now when I retake the test in 2026. This is important because I need my mobility. Again, no spouse, no wheels. My legs are my #1 mode of transportation and my link to the world.

Last month I took a 24-hour urine test. I just got the results and was happy to talk to my PA-C because he told me my results were "better than fine." He wants me to drink more water, recommends a splash of lemon juice with every glass, and unless I experience another kidney stone, he doesn't think we need talk again until next summer. Again, when I had a kidney stone attack in 2022, I had to decide alone if I should go to the hospital, and if it warranted a call to an ambulance or just a rideshare. These are hard choices to make alone when you're in pain. I'm going to avoid facing them, if I can.

Next month I'm having a mammogram. I have no reason to believe I have breast cancer. But the screening is free and there is no reason not to have it. None. 

I work at the card shop next week. Even though I don't feel like it. It's not the money -- though I like the money. It's the sense of purpose and structure it imposes on my life. Losing my career, then John and then Henry within a two-year span has been life changing. I can go too far into my own head. Too content to watch reruns, read and cuddle my cats. All pleasant diversions, but not social. John showed me the danger of letting my world get smaller.

Then there's my Tuesday routine. First I go to yoga, which I remain very bad at. Then I see my shrink. Both are important. Yoga helps with my mobility and it's teaching me something new. Like my job at the card shop, doing what's new and different helps keep me sharp and engaged. My shrink is my check-in. She keeps me doing what's healthy for my body and spirit.

John did none of the above. John is not only dead, he died in pain. I am here to make sure the pain wasn't for nothing. 

When I scolded him for his lifestyle, he'd quote the song, "Cabaret."

Here's Liza

I used to have a girlfriend known as Elsie with whom I shared four sordid rooms in Chelsea/She wasn't  what you'd call a blushing flower, as a matter of fact she rented by the hour/The day she died the neighbors came to snicker, "Well, that's what comes from too much pills and liquor"/But when I saw her laid out like a queen, she was the happiest corpse I'd ever seen/I think of Elsie to this very day. I remember how she'd turn to me and say/"What good is sitting alone in your room? Come, hear the music play/Life is a cabaret, old chum, come to the cabaret"/And as for me, I made my mind up back in Chelsea, when I go, I'm going like Elsie.

When I said goodbye to John at the hospital, he was not happy. He was skeletal and so weak he was unable to hold a cup and bring it to his lips. His feet were swollen and, had he lived, they would have been amputated. He did not "go like Elsie."

But he also didn't die that way for nothing. I watched. I learned. I do better in his memory. Just as he once taught me how to party till dawn and truly experience my youth, he taught me how not to age.

Thank you, Buddy.

I thought it would happen, and it has

Ceecee quit. My boss at the card shop is leaving. She's going just a few blocks away to manage the new J. Crew store. But I'm bereft all the same. She's the one who decided last year to give me a chance, even though I have no relevant experience. She's done whatever she could to accommodate my schedule. She's forgiven my fat-fingered forgetfulness on the register. 

But I have been expecting this. Ever since our store became a soft target for shoplifters, she has been unhappy with the lack of support she's received from Corporate. So has Jen, the assistant manager I work with most often. I expect her to be gone soon, too. (I know she's interviewing.)

I don't know what all this means for me. Ceecee and Jen appreciate my strengths -- my comfort chatting with clients and promoting the sale items -- and are patient with my aforementioned fat-fingered forgetfulness on the register. The money isn't tremendous but it helps. I love the discount. I also think it's been good for me to have the structure of a job. I began working when I was 17 and found during my year of complete retirement that I need something like this to keep me sharp and content.

So I hope that the new manager, whoever they may be, won't rock my world. Fingers crossed.

Photo by Siora Photography on Unsplash

The TMI post

I didn't expect this to be stressful. The test required me to collect a day of urine in a big jug, then shake it up and fill a test tube. The lab provided me with a prepaid FedEx package. I was given a number to call for pick up. Easy-peasy, right? 

Well, no. Since the lab is reviewing not only the content of my output but the amount, I had to choose 24 hours when I would be certain to be home so I could add to the jug every time I went to the bathroom. So that took a little planning. Then there's the fact that I'm a woman, so my kit had a little something extra in it: a "collection device" to slip between the toilet seats. However, it didn't fit securely so I had to place it and remove it every time. My cat, Roy Hobbs, was confused and fascinated by this "collection device." I wiped it out as well as I could but I wouldn't be surprised if a cat hair made its way into the jug, too. I hope it doesn't spoil the sample. I don't want to do this again.

Then there was FedEx. I called Wednesday AM, the day I was doing the collecting, and scheduled a pick up for Thursday morning. I explained that it contained a test tube I was returning to a lab, so timing was important and I couldn't leave it downstairs in the lobby of my building; the driver would have to ring the bell. Unfortunately, the customer service rep seemed more amused by my last name -- which he'd never heard before! -- than interested in the details of my order. Because he didn't fill me with confidence, I read and reread the number he gave me back to him, to make sure everything was in order.

Since I had a bad feeling, I called at 7:30 Thursday morning, just to confirm the package would be picked up between 9 and 5. Again, timing is important. Guess what: somehow it had been cancelled. (I knew he was a dipshit.)

What the fuck! This sample is time-sensitive. The kit clearly states: "Any sample received after 96 hours from the start time will be rejected."

I worked with a super-helpful woman named Desiree who rescheduled me. For between "now and 1:00." Of course this meant I couldn't even take a shower or take that icky jug and "containment device" out to the dumpster until FedEx arrived because I had to be nearby to respond to the doorbell. Naturally, he came at 12:40. 

I admit it: I was a wreck. I tried to distract myself from worry that FedEx wouldn't come through. I worked on my GOTV postcards. I cleaned the bathtub. But mostly I worried. 

After I handed it off, I couldn't wait to get into the shower! Then I took a nap. 

In the olden days, I handled stress better than I do now. I had deadlines and art directors and producers to deal with, and it didn't exhaust me like yesterday did.

But as I reflect I realize two things:

1) In my professional life, I had more control than I did yesterday.

2) I understood everything that went on at work. Yesterday was new to me.

So now it's over. Now all I have to do is wait for the results, which will give the urologist the info he needs to give me diet tips to slow further kidney stone formation. So it's all good.

Plus, I now appreciate just going to the bathroom without all that rigmarole.

Thursday Thirteen #373

13 ways my life is different this year. "The days are long but the years are short." So wrote author Gretchen Rubin. I feel that more at this time of my life than ever before. Often my days run so seamlessly, one into the other, that I don't notice how much my life has changed over the last twelve months.

1. Henry's precipitous decline. Because I've been so consumed with his condition since his accident back in October 2018, I hadn't noticed how Henry himself had slowly disappeared from my life. I'm not talking about monitoring his medical care and physical well-being. I was always alert for news and forever researching what might be done or where. But I hadn't noticed how inexorably Henry himself had receded. Once he became unable to dial his own phone, I stopped hearing from him regularly. Somehow I truly didn't see this in real time so it was a blow when he died in June.

2. John died. Last summer, John and I were talking baseball. This July we would have celebrated his 69th birthday. I planned to take him to Reunion Restaurant on Navy Pier because he would've enjoyed dining on cuisine prepared by the Obamas' chef. Alas, he died in April. I miss him every day.

3. I restricted Kathy. Last year at this time, my friend Kathy was hassling me. She suffers from some sort of cognitive decline, but I'm reluctant to call it dementia or Alzheimer's because to my knowledge she hasn't been diagnosed. But she would text me, asking me to call her. I would and maddeningly, she wouldn't pick up, turning around to text me again as soon as I hung up. She would send me IMs and then, when I responded, scold me for using instant messaging because she believed "they" could access her messages. Day after day, often more than once a day, this happened. I finally restricted her access to my Facebook page. I felt like a bitch when I did it, but now I'm relieved. I don't think she understands how to communicate anymore, and I believe our relationship was causing me more stress than it brought her pleasure.

4. Back to work. My job at the card shop is not especially difficult and my take home pay is only between $50 and $100/week. But it gives my weeks structure and purpose. Last summer I was retired and more than a little uncomfortable with how slothful I had become. I began working a 40-hour week when I was 17, and realize I need to work.

5. Ceecee and Jen. They are my two supervisors at the card shop and the women I've become closest to. Now such a big part of my life, it's hard to believe I had no idea who they were a year ago today.

6. My back is full of surprises. Last year at this time I was slow to move in the mornings because my back was stiff. Yoga and adjustments from my chiropractor remedied that. But now my left knee is freaking KILLING me! My chiropractor suspects its because I'm on my feet so much at the card shop, and that has had an impact on my gait and the way back aligns. Sometimes my body feels like the space capsule in the movie Alien. I know there's a monster onboard, I just don't know where it's going to pop up next.

7. I wear a mouth guard at night. My dentist thinks my messed-up bite is wearing away at my teeth (and all his quality work) at an accelerated rate and hopes this will help.

8. Kiehl's. For at least a decade I used Clinique Repairwear Correcting Eyecream. I loved it. The bastards discontinued it. Now I used Kiehl's Creamy Eye Treatment with Avocado. I love it, too, despite the green color. (Avocado, don't you know.)

9. No caffeine after 8 PM. I don't drink coffee but I do have Coke every day. Usually two 7.5-oz. mini cans, but sometimes I make a 20-oz. bottle last throughout the day. Anyway, I've found I sleep better if I cut myself off at 8 PM.

10. New vet. After more than 30 years, my vet sold his practice. The new vet in charge is someone who subbed for him on occasion so Connie, Roy Hobbs and I know her. She's made some significant upgrades in terms of equipment/capabilities, which is nice.

11. I lost Elvis. I used to carry a Graceland mug filled with water with me from room to room. I accidentally broke it. The King has been replaced with my queen. I now sip from my Jacqueline Kennedy: The White House Years mug.

12. New glasses. Kate Spade Tianna. Affordable because of my new insurance. (See #13.)

13. My own insurance. Last year at this time I was still on CORRA for my dental/vision insurance. I assumed, incorrectly, that since the multi-national corporation I formerly worked for selected it, it was the best choice. I did my own (mind numbing) research and switched to CIGNA. It's only a wee bit more expensive than I was paying and the deductible is lower, so it's better than a wash. On the one hand, I'm proud of myself for doing my homework and making the switch. But I'm pissed at myself for assuming the economies of scale and trusting that COBRA and my former employer was a better deal. It wasn't.

How has the last year made a difference in your life?

Please join us for THURSDAY THIRTEEN. Click here to play along, and to see other interesting compilations of 13 things.

$30 seems like a good amount

I had lunch with my friend Joanna last Friday. We dined under an umbrella along the water at Chicago's River Walk. It was a beautiful day and we had a lovely time. Except ...

Joanna is broke. Really busted. For the last decade she has been investing all her money in her own business, and it's simply not working. She's good at what she does, but she's not good at marketing herself, getting the word out, attracting new clients. New business acquisition is an area of expertise in and of itself, and no one is good at everything. 

But now here Joanna is, nearly 70 with no retirement savings and little money coming in. She often depends on her credit cards to make ends meet. She's not angry. She doesn't sound scared. She just seems ... resigned. I think she's been living with this reality so long that it's no longer fused with emotion.

As we wandered The River Walk, I kept steering her to the small booths, heavy on desserts. I figured that would be easier on her wallet than a meal. But no, she wanted lunch. She had a pair of sliders, I had a (really delicious) turkey sandwich. The bill, with tip, was $47. She had a "what the hell" attitude, but I thought we could have made a wiser choice. She put everything on her credit card because she didn't have any cash. For my portion, I gave her four $10 bills, folded. We were so engaged in conversation that she didn't count it, just slipped it into her wallet. I felt good about that. I wanted to help her, not embarrass her.

Something she said stayed with me: she uses whatever cash she has for groceries. She said when she's out of money, she stops putting food in her cart. She made grocery shopping sound like something of an adventure or a game, but I didn't like the sound of that.

Now I'm in better financial shape than she is, but I'm not a wealthy woman. The problem with retirement is that you don't know how long it will last, so I must be careful with my money.

I simply can't afford to give Joanna the funds it will take to give her security. 

I also want to preserve her dignity. She hasn't asked me for help. 

So I checked out her neighborhood online and found that the retailer nearest her apartment is Walgreen's. I went to the location in my neighborhood and bought a $30 gift card. That seemed like a good amount. Big enough to help, at least in the moment, but not big enough to be embarrassing. I put it in a classic movie notecard (An American in Paris; we both love old movies and Joanna is a Francophile).

I wrote: "I firmly believe that when you discover you need something in a hurry, you can always find it at Walgreen's. It makes me happy to think that next time you suddenly need 60W bulbs, or sunscreen, or a can of Campbell's Chicken Soup, you can pick it up on me."

Yes, I know she is likely to use it all at once on essentials, but I like my narrative better.

The $30 giftcard is just a finger in the dike. It'll help her with the week, but it won't stave off financial disaster. Still, she knows I care about her. She knows I'm in her corner. Support is all I can give her and I hope she feels my good intentions.

A saga 32 years in the making

Back in 1992, I was between jobs. The company I worked for had gone out of business and I had some money in that employer's 401(k). I don't remember the details, but since they filed for bankruptcy I wasn't crazy about leaving my money in that 401(k). I took that money (about $6,000) and rolled it over into an annuity with a company called Kemper. Over the decades my contract changed hands, sold first to Zurich, but that didn't matter to me. I just wanted that $6,000 to grow tax-deferred at 3.15% guaranteed until I retired.

My boyfriend was against this move, saying my money could earn more in mutual fund. He was undoubtedly right about that. But I wanted to put that specific chunk somewhere that could not/would not -- under any circumstances -- lose money. During these past decades, the stock market has risen and fallen many times. I've watched the bulk of my retirement savings go up and down accordingly, and the dips have caused me stress. It gave me a certain measure of comfort to watch that $6,000 chug along, slowly but safely, at 3.15% no matter what.

Well, we're more than 20 years into a new millennium. My boyfriend is long gone, Zurich sold my policy, I'm retired, and my annuity is now worth more than $16,000. And I want it. I'm over 65, so there are no tax or withdrawal penalties.  I figured this would be easy. 

I figured wrong.

My contract begins with a letter. This indicates that it was opened long ago and oh so far away. This dictates and complicates how I can close the account and get my money.

According to my contract, I have to fill out a specific form. Which is not available online. I requested this form by phone during the last week of March. I was told it would take 5 business days.

The form never arrived. Now we're in April. I called and requested another form.

It finally arrived. It was four pages long! I called and asked for help in filling it out. Customer service could not have been nicer. I asked where I could send it electronically.

I can't. I also can't get the funds direct deposited. My contract begins with a letter, you see.

So I returned the forms via USPS certified mail. It took more than a week to be delivered.

Now it will take a week for the form to be processed and a paper check to be mailed to me. 

Let's say that happens in a timely manner and I deposit the check right away. Even after state and local are withdrawn, the check will be for more than $10,000, which means the bank policy is to hold it for 2 business days until it clears.

So the process that began in the last week in March likely won't be done until the last week in May. And that's if everything goes through without a hitch.

I am not happy about this, but being unhappy does make me feel rather bratty. My policy begins with a letter because it was opened during the George H. W. Bush Administration. This is the way the world was 32 years ago. We requested forms by phone and they were mailed to us. We returned the forms by mail. We received checks in the mail. None of this seemed unreasonable in 1992 because we weren't used to emailing, downloading and direct deposit.

In the meantime, keep your fingers crossed for me. I'm counting on that money this summer.

 

Photo by Jp Valery on Unsplash

An unlikely source of gratitude

 

Look at me, doing laundry! In my own (shared) laundry room, for the first time since January 5. It may sound counterintuitive, but every chapter of this of this laundry saga has filled me with gratitude.

During last month's arctic freeze, pipes all over Chicagoland burst and we weren't spared. That's why it took us forever to get a plumber out here. Our only burst pipe leads to the laundry room, so we were at the bottom of the queue. Gratitude #1: Many neighbors who live in older buildings, like ours, found themselves without heat or unable to flush. At least our health and comfort weren't at stake.

So this sent me to the laundromat. Since I don't drive, I had to load my dirty clothes into a Hefty garbage bag and then drag it in a rolling shopping cart to the laundromat. This trip took 15 minutes each way through streets that were often muddy. I am entirely too old for this shit. Gratitude #2: I used to do this every weekend. For 25 years! I had to get up early on Saturday morning to be sure that I got washing machines near one another. At least now that I'm retired, I could do it at my leisure and on a weekday afternoon, when it's not crowded.

The laundromat itself is a soul-sucking experience. It's the same one I went to back in the day, but it's fallen into serious disrepair. Probably a full third of the machines are out of order. The TVs are always on but it's disorienting because one has sound and no picture and the other has picture but no sound. The vending machines are mostly empty except for a couple forlorn, Jurassic-era packages of Doritos. Gratitude #3: I knew this was a short-term hiccough. I'm no longer one of the regulars.

The woman onsite is responsible for making change (of course the coin machine was glitchy) and doing the dirty clothes that are dropped off and she is small and old. Now I'm 5'1 and 66, so imagine how small and old she must be to look small and old to me. I heard her tell someone on the phone that she works every day until 7:00 PM. Imagine being in those rather depressing surroundings, dealing with the stained underwear of complete strangers, hour after hour, day in and day out. Gratitude #4: I have no training in anything but advertising writing, and I don't want to do that anymore. I'm so lucky that CeeCee took a chance on this small old lady and gave me a job the card shop. I get to spend my time among scented candles and pretty wrapping paper and it's been fun this month to help parents and kids pick out Valentine gifts for classmates. My favorite: this set of heart-shaped crayon rings. A kid can break up the set and tape one to each of his Valentines, and his classmates can trade them for the color they want. Isn't that better than folding fitted sheets?