And Just Like That

After several days of going back and forth in my mind, I finally took the plunge,  deactivating my Facebook account and canceling my longstanding subscription to the New York Times on the same day.

And just like that, I felt better. 

Let me peel those two activities apart: Facebook first, then the Times.

My Facebook friends span the political spectrum from way left to way right. I have not unfriended any folks for their voting choices. Ever. Period. For the record, I have very close friends and family, near and dear to my heart, who vote very differently from me. They are not the reason I deactivated my Facebook page. 

I deactivated my Facebook page because of the friends with whom I share many similar political views (liberal, to say the least). I know how I feel about the current administration. I strongly feel our nation and our democracy is at risk, and, at a personal level, that my family members and I are at risk. That being said, I don't need to be shrieked out several times a day with posts about what the Orangeman said, what his administration is doing, and how outraged I should feel. I am beyond tired of living in an echo chamber. 

And just like that, I was out of the echo chamber. 

Stepping away from the New York Times was a different decision involving a lot of moving parts. One, Warren had stopped reading it much at all months ago because of overloads on his personal time; he had (still does) more pressing matters to deal with. Looking back, I realized I had pared way way way back on how much I read it. So neither of us were getting much out of it. Two, there were the recent editorial losses: longtime columnist Paul Krugman left because the management was leaning on him heavily with edits he could not tolerate; Charles Blow left to take a prestigious fellowship at Harvard but also because of management leaning on him; Peter Coy (my favorite economist ever) left saying he was "retiring" but I wonder if it was more than that. Three, yes the overload. The overload the  overload the overload. Four, the cost. If we were reading it more regularly, I wouldn't look hard at that cost, but for not reading it, yeah, it's a tad pricey. I was paying $25.00 every four weeks, or $325.00 a year. That's way more than a lot for a subscription we were not using. (Interesting now that I have canceled, when I do open it while our current paid subscription time runs, they are offering me a full subscription at $1.00/week.) So I canceled my subscription.

And just like that, I didn't have to keep up with the newspaper anymore.

I let Ben and Alix know about both decisions.  (Sam eschews social media, so he is not worrying about whether his mom is on Facebook.) Because of Alix's job, he has to follow the national press, but he totally got my reasoning.  Ben's response was even more direct:  "The media cycle is overwhelming and all the outrage in the world isn't getting anything done." 

That comment about outrage not getting anything done struck home. Where I can make a difference is here locally, which is why I posted a photo of a slow food cooker at the start of this blog. Yes, the hot sandwiches to go program at the Justice Bus is running well. We just repeated it for our March Bus. My next door neighbors have started supplying the Bus with fresh-baked (as in "just this morning") sourdough loaves. Trust me, warm food, a loaf of bread, and welcoming our clients are all needed right here, right now. So when I arrived to set up for the Bus Thursday, I posted this sign:

And this one:

And just like that, we were off and running. 

We do not ask clients their political views before assisting them; hard times do not care about your voting pattern. As a long-ago, long-deceased friend reminded me back in the late 1970s (a lifetime ago) when we discussed activism, "April, it's hard to show up for a rally or a protest meeting when you are working two jobs and trying to keep a roof over your head." I feel that neither major party cares about poverty—food insecurity, hunger, housing insecurity, homelessness, medical care—because at the top, they do not have to worry about doing without. (Who do I agree with most of this topic? Matthew Desmond, author of Evicted and Poverty, By America. Here is a very recent appearance by Desmond on the Daily Show talking about poverty and our abysmal record in this nation: just watch it.)

From time to time, I will still check in on Facebook because there are a few family members I only see photos of on Facebook. It amuses me that the only person who has contacted me about not being on Facebook is a cousin whose minster's wife (a high school classmate of mine) reached out to her to make sure I was okay because she was thinking of me and couldn't find me. (For the record, my cousin and our mutual connection do not share my political views.) That just reinforced my thoughts about the echo chamber: if all one does is screech, one does not see the community. So I emailed my cousin an update and told her to share my note with our friend.

And just like that, I went on with my day.

"You Are Enough"

The frozen lake

A long-sleeved tee was in the gift shop in Eisenberg Building at Mayo Clinic. Across its front were the words "You are enough." When I walked past it this past Monday, I told Warren I needed to tell myself that more regularly: "April, you are enough."

We returned home Wednesday evening from a trip to my Emerald City (Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota). We left last Friday to visit Ann and David, now very close friends, in northern Wisconsin, made our way to Oz for two days, then on to Milwaukee, where Warren had an instrument to deliver to the University of Wisconsin Milwaukee. I wrote some of this post Sunday evening, some more on Monday evening, and am now getting around to finishing it today.

The time in northern Wisconsin was stunning, incredible, amazing. We went there on a heartfelt invitation from a retired symphony Executive Director to Warren on his retirement. The visit was two days of wonderful food, laughter, tears, deep conversations on music, life, language, and implicit bias, a walk across a frozen lake, sharing books, family stories, and more. It was one of the very best times we have ever spent with another couple. It was with heartfelt hugs we said our thanks and drove away Sunday midday to Rochester.

By the time we arrived in Rochester late in the afternoon, I was spent. Warren and I had stubbed our emotional toes as we began the trek, a verbal miscue resulting in a long silent trip with mixed emotions hanging heavy in the air. When we got into our hotel room and after eating supper quietly, we were ready to begin to get back on the same page. As we talked, I surprised myself by saying, slowly, "And I may be dealing with a little depression."

My brilliant therapist Doug, now from over two decades ago, and I talked about depression and that I occasionally experienced what he diagnosed as "situational depression" (as compared to an Axis 1 major depression). He felt strongly that I knew when it happened, what it felt like, and how to first cope and then move beyond it. 

So why now? I thought about that Sunday evening and on into the week. I can toss up several thoughts: the geographical distance of my family and concerns about their personal safety in this country, growing responsibility for my aging father, the screeds in social media (so much so that I am leaning towards deactivating my Facebook account; I don't need to be yelled at about the current administration; trust me, I know): all that and more. 

But without ignoring any of those concerns, I need to move forward, focusing on where I am able to help mend the broken world in my immediate community and family. As the Talmud reminds me, it is not my responsibility to finish the work of perfecting the world, but I am not free to desist from that work either. (From Pirkei Avot.) Taking those words apart and applying them to my feelings, just because I am not able to fix the broken world, I need not dismiss my efforts and work in my sphere, in my life.

As I finish typing this in Friday morning, my mood has shifted as I look into what is ahead of me in the next few months, from legal clinics (the hot sandwiches to go at February's Justice Bus were a hit and I will be repeating that this coming March) to family matters to Warren's brilliant work to this year's garden. (And for those of you who are wondering, the medical front continues to be steady as she goes, to the great delight of all.)

A Hyer Percussion Products; note the university logo on the end piece!

So, back to where this started. "You are enough." I don't need a shirt to remind myself that. And, as Doug worked with me on so many years ago, I have the capacity to deal with whatever this is. I am enough.  

A Wednesday Win

This post is for Amanda, who will totally get it and burst out laughing.

We are slated to have some snow/ice roll in later today. The city trucks have been out brining the streets and I wanted to make sure I got a long walk in just in case everything iced up. So I bundled up and took off for the CVS on the south side of town; I had some perks expiring soon (some today) and wanted to use them.

This is what I bought at CVS:

Total cost? $0.00.

But wait, there's more!

Amanda and I both follow Katy Wolk-Stanley, The Non-Consumer Advocate, on Instagram. (I also read Katy's blog, which is often downright hilarious.) Each year, Katy saves all of her "found money" and then lets us know how much she netted for the year. "Found money" is exactly that: a coin dropped that you find and pick up on a parking lot, for example. (I include non-profit mailings where the organization attaches a dime or a nickel to convince you to donate.) With fewer and fewer people using cash, found money is scarcer with each passing month. But I told Amanda I was game if she was game. 

So imagine my delight when, on leaving CVS and preparing to walk back home (1.3 miles each way, in case anyone is wondering), I look down and see this:

Found money! 

Free dish soap, free note cards (yes, I write a lot of letters every month), and a penny for my 2025 found money bowl. 

That's a win no matter how you count it. 

Focus?

Photo by Giorgio Trovato on Unsplash

 

Just 10 days ago at the mid-January point, I wrote about what the month had held so far and what some of the topics on my mind were. With only 6 (!) days remaining to this first month of 2025, I feel as if I am still tiptoeing through the days.

My study is a mess: Dad paperwork (some old, some older, some newer, some new, and, of course, miscellaneous) in a couple of piles, my paperwork (the same), a small but growing pile of donations after the heady exclamation in that aforementioned post that we had moved a lot of things to Goodwill, and, of course, some other stuff. At the same time, there are some small, "neater" stacks of papers on the couch in the downstairs study that (a) are mostly mine and (b) need to move upstairs to my study and get filed, shredded, or recycled. My study is chillier than downstairs (excuses, excuses) and I keep looking at those downstairs stacks and think, "I'll get to those...later."

The real issue is that my mind is cluttered or, more to the point, my focus is blurry right now. I am working hard (perhaps too hard?) on finding my center, my cornerstone. (Maybe I have more than one cornerstone?) Maybe it has been this cold wave (finally ending, it would appear) that has kept me from walking as much or as far as I want and am used to (I did walk home from visiting Dad today; that was a good thing!) that is pushing me down. (As I wrote just a few days ago, walking is a very important part of my life.) I am quite sure that the noise, much of it toxic, blasting out from the new administration is part of the picture as I worry about the safety and well-being of family and friends in this new era. 

And, having written all of that out and seeing my words in the light of day, maybe I do have a focus after all. I remember that not only am I am my best when I focus on the small moments, the immediate moments, and the community moments, but it is more than my just noticing those things. It is my moral duty, one I take up gladly, to do my part to mend the broken seams of this world. 

Maybe I am indeed ready to move forward. 

The Best Review Ever

The muffins

I am in the early stages of writing another blog post, but then this happened this morning and was too good to sit on.  

We have all been under a severe cold wave, and most of us around here have dealt with it by staying inside. Add to that the political climate, and many of us, starting with me, are focusing on serving our local community. At home, I am trying to concentrate on what blogger Wendi at My Heart is Always Home recently called the "ordinary moments." 

It helps. 

I spent yesterday afternoon baking: a spinach/feta quiche for supper and cardamon pumpkin muffins for pleasure. Four of those went to our next door neighbors, superb bakers themselves, earning a positive review when the adults shared one between themselves. 

That is not the review I am referring to, glowing as it was. 

My phone tinged at 7:40 this morning with an incoming text: "These are the best muffins I've ever tasted in my life! ... I mean, I have a long life still, so...I might have something even tastier...but there are the best I've ever had so far!" Margaux

Margaux is the 5-year-old next door, a kindergartner like my grandson Orlando (they are 4 months apart in age). Apparently my muffins were a huge hit, her dad adding that after she tasted the muffin, she set it aside and ate her cereal first  "because she realized it was so good that she wanted to save it for last."

I have been baking for decades for fun, for sharing, for profit, for fundraising events. I have had glowing reviews from friends and strangers. But I have never ever had a review like this one. To borrow from Margaux's words, I have had a long life, but still, this is the best review ever! 

Ever! 

COLD

Photo by Alex Padurariu on Unsplash

It is Sunday evening as I write and a light snow is sifting down. For those who watch weather (I do, a little), you may know that central Ohio is in the path of the extreme cold wave hitting the midwest and the east coast. Extreme? -25 or lower with the windchill if it gets really bad. The cold aside, we should miss the heavy snows that are hitting other parts of the country. I will know in the morning when I look out the window.

Despite the cold, I made a point of walking both yesterday and today in the afternoons. I did not do so lightheartedly but with precautions and extreme care. Both afternoons, I chose only clear, clean sidewalks and, today (Sunday), when the air was brittle and the wind drove the temperature down, I was well-bundled. (In comparison, Saturday's walk was under blue, sunny skies with temperatures mild in the mid-20s.)

Until this weekend, I had not walked in several days because of weather and because of letting too many things get in the way. I walk for the exercise, of course. All of my physicians use my walking as a marker of my well-being and always ask me in the course of any appointment how much I am walking (both time and distance) and whether I am experiencing any issues. 

I also use walking to sort things out in my head. The lack of any significant walking (more than just to and from the car) has certainly contributed to a more cluttered mind than I like. So the walks were good for me, even in the cold. I could feel my mind exhale and stretch in gratitude as I walked. 

The cold is predicted to last over the next few days. I visited my dad in his apartment on Saturday and told him if it got as cold as they were predicting, he would not see me for a few days. Dad immediately said, "STAY HOME."

We are both more than happy to stay home over the next few days. As I type these words in on Monday morning, the sun is bright, the sky is blue, and it is a whopping 4 degrees. Warren had to take the car to the repair shop this morning for the replacement transmission, riding our local bus from there to back here, but that is our sole expedition outside. We both have plenty of inside tasks to do, I have plenty (PLENTY) of books at hand, and as soon as I post this, I am heading into the kitchen to bake. My dear friend Cindy calls this response to cold weather "hunkering down;" she lives about 30 miles away and we have exchanged several texts on the topic. 

Here's to hunkering. 

Moving Into 2025

The calendar behind me as I sit at my desk

January 2025 is half over already. I have spent the first few weeks remembering to write "2025" when a date is required on anything, clearing out (more) clutter, preparing for another year of volunteering, and, of course, reading. (It has been pretty cold lately, so my indoor reading time has grown.) Add to that activity a deeper dive (my toes are in the water at least) into our household finances, and that captures a lot of January at the halfway mark. 

On the clutter front, some progress has been made. Last week we took a carload of donations (household, shop, other) to Goodwill. Just this week, I (finally) emptied, recycled, and either disposed or saved three boxes (from holiday gift shipments), clearing them off the coffee table in our downstairs study (which is presently also serving as a holding station for Hyer Percussion). Gone, gone, gone.

Along with good friends and colleagues, I am gearing up for the 2025 Justice Bus season, which will begin the first Thursday in February. I am the attorney wrangler. I also advise. New to my mix this year is cooking. After hearing and seeing clients struggling with being able to afford food, we are adding food to the program. Just something hot and transportable (think crockpot shredded turkey, for example). We have always had "snacks" (granola bars, for example), courtesy of our wonderful community partner Andrews House, but after several of us talked about the situation in November and agreed our clients (and volunteers) could use something heartier, I said I would bring a crockpot with the shredded whatever in it and the buns. We'll see how it goes.

On the grocery front, because I put this in my end-of-2024 post, I will note that our "only buy perishables (or something on a really, really whopping great sale)" January is going great. As of today, we have spent a total of $23.33. I push myself to get creative with our meals: a shredded apple/carrot salad when we did not have any salad green in the house, for example. It was delicious. 

The apple/carrot salad

I mention the groceries because that topic ties into a deeper dive into our household finances. The combination of my updated prognosis, Warren's business ramping up, and some short-term and long-term expenses—a transmission replacement (immediate), traveling to the Pacific Northwest this summer (not that far away), a new-to-us car sometime in the next 3-4 years paying in cash to the greatest extent possible (long-term)—is leading us to talk about ways to start saving for those big ticket items and to run our household frugally so we don't get off track. Even the small wins make me smile. For example, it turns out that because we are both over the age of 65, we are entitled to a 25% reduction on our monthly City refuse collection fee, which just went up to $27/month. That reduction comes to a savings of $81.00/year. Combine that with our City now charging a service fee on all utility payments made by credit card, debit card, or autopay (cash or check is still accepted without a fee), but waiving the fee if you submit an ACH form to have the City pull the monthly bill directly. You bet I got that form turned in ASAP. That's $1.95/month savings: $23+ a year. Combine those two savers and we're saving over $100.00 a year on our City utilities. Easy peasy.

And that brings me to reading. As of Monday, my savings to date from using the library in 2025 are $308.78. I kid you not. Great savings, great reading, great life. 

A New Book

Photo by Olena Bohovyk on Unsplash

A few weeks ago, I was at my dentist's office for a cleaning. Blanche, my dental hygienist of many years, and I talked about my most recent Mayo visit. Her mother-in-law died of multiple myeloma a number of years ago, so she is familiar with the disease and has stayed on top of my health status. When she heard the "very, very stable" and "may well have a normal life span" pronouncements, she was overjoyed.

I told her my own feelings: yes, I (and my family and friends) am delighted. Beyond delighted. Having that new prognosis just changes so much and Warren and I are still talking through those changes. Blanche nodded as she prepped for my cleaning. I then told her about feeling as if I have been reading a large book, all the bookmarks fell out, and I don't know where my place in the book is anymore.

Blanche didn't miss a beat.

"Then it's time to pick a new book."

As I was checking out at the front desk, Blanche stepped back into the hallway from her workspace and called to me. "Don't forget, April. Pick a new book."

Sometimes it takes someone else to point out the obvious.

Pick a new book. 

I am not sure what book I am picking but the message fits me to a tee, both figuratively in my charting the way forward and literally (and somewhat tongue in cheek) as I start a new year of library receipts. Our library system, like an increasing number of them nationwide, lets the borrower know how much they saved by using the library, printing the information on the bottom of the checkout receipt. In 2024, I saved a whopping $4243.78 by checking out books (I rarely check out anything else). That is probably my largest one-year amount since the library started tracking individual savings. I went to the library just yesterday, both to return and check out some waiting books, and my total for 2025 is already $117.89.

Pick a new book? I can't wait. 

At the End of Four: Wrapping Up Groceries in 2024

Homemade Kringle

Wrapping up and looking ahead to 2025, that is. 

Well, that was a wild prediction on my part. Back in November, summing up our grocery purchases for the third quarter of the year and using a goal of spending an average of $200.00/month, I optimistically (and myopically) wrote we could still hit that average for the year by holding our spending to $164.00 a month for the final quarter.

Non-spoiler alert: it didn't happen. 

Didn't begin to happen. Our combined grocery (food and basic household items such as detergent and toilet paper) was—wait for it—$802.55, or $267.52 average a month. Of that amount, a mere $46.83 was for household items; $755.72 was for food.

For the year, our total outlay for groceries (again, mostly food) came to $2709.96, making the monthly average $225.83. The only reason we came in that low was because the 2nd quarter expenditures were lower because of my father's changing circumstances and some of the items we reaped from his house. 

But, more to the point in my mind, why was 4th quarter, and especially December so high? (December spending was $371.66—ouch.)

There are several reasons. One, I bake a lot (a whole lot) in December for friends, family, volunteers and so on. As a result, we spent a lot of money on supplies. In the spirit of full disclosure, I did deduct $60.00 from the December total representing supplies for baked goods (including Kringle) that left this house directly to the recipients. But we also bought items (some of which were very pricy) that I did not end up using for holiday gifting so those costs are in our totals.

One Kringle left home; this one stayed. (Yes, I counted it in the total.)

Another reason is that December especially contained some "splurges." Let me put "splurges" into context. A friend recently told me that she and her husband always had lobster rolls (one each) on New Year's Day; that was a long-standing tradition. So they had just purchased two pounds of lobster at an eye-watering $40.00/pound. She said they would get several such meals out of that amount and it was cheaper than going to a restaurant and ordering lobster (true that), but I winced inwardly at the $80.00.

Our splurges were a tad more modest. 3.73 pounds of fresh salmon "loins" (when did salmons acquire loins?) marked down 50% to $7.49/pound at Kroger (that will make four meals for us), and a whopper of a fresh salmon slab marked 50% off at Aldi to come in at $4.60/pound (another meal or two). Yeah, the Kroger markdown was still a big splurge. It came first and, because I watch salmon prices (I love salmon) and knew that Aldi had not been below $9.00+ pound for weeks, I felt we did well. (We did great with the Aldi one.) I will enjoy every bite. 

Another splurge (in November) was for a quart of vanilla ice cream at Whit's: $9.00. We had dear friends coming to dinner and I wanted the ice cream to accompany the apple dessert I had made. Totally worth it for the pleasure of the vanilla and apples. 

So splurging is an issue, but we watch ourselves even in that area. The other main issue, frankly, is the cost of food. We are pretty darn conscientious about our shopping and I watch and compare prices. But food is higher. A pound of butter on sale, and there were several between mid-November and Christmas, was $2.99. Everywhere. Last year: $1.99. In mid-December, I ran out of eggs (having stocked up on them in November through sales). No one had a special and I paid, gasping, $3.99 for a dozen so I could finish my baking. And these are what is now known as "traditional" eggs: not organic, not cage-free, not brown. Just eggs. 

That all being said, there were some hilarious (to us) saving moments in December. We finished off a bag of tortilla chips (which we had just opened, not an old stale one we had opened and forgot about), a small cube (frozen) of veggie dip, and two York Peppermint Patties (also frozen) that were left behind after we hosted a small potluck-style gathering in July. And walking home together December 31, Warren and I spied a runaway onion on a tree lawn a few blocks from home. 

The runaway onion

Of course we picked it up. (Turns out there were three others in the curb gutter that neither of us noticed. Walking home yesterday, I saw them, but they had frozen into the matted leaves and were not salvageable. Just had to let those go.)

And while this falls in 2025 and not 2024, I picked two mini candy bars from the bowl at our auto repair shop yesterday that we will take to the movies tonight. 

Two mini bars

While writing this, having just now run the numbers for the year, I am vastly relieved that, even with a very expensive December, our average monthly outlay for the year was $226.00 and not closer to the $267.00 for this quarter. Thinking about the higher amount, Warren and I had discussed cutting our grocery purchases 10%, or $26.00 a month, to get started on reining in the costs. Using that $26.00 amount, which we thought we could meet, maybe $200.00/month for groceries is within reach. Or something close to that.

A lot of folks out there are having a "No Spend" January. We tend to lean towards a "no spend" lifestyle as it is, so we're already aligned with that mindset. But we both agreed that an "Only Buy Perishables" January (short of some stunning sale somewhere: salmon for $1.00/pound, say) might be a good way to start 2025.

Here's to a year of grocery adventures.