50+ and On The Run

13 Tips for a Perfect Thanksgiving

2012-11-21T10:48:00.000-06:00

Thanksgiving isn't until tomorrow, but I wanted to give you a few tips I have learned in more than 50 Thanksgivings. I want to stress that I did not make all of these mistakes myself. Really. I didn't.

I offer the following, in no particular order:

If you think that giant pot of potatoes might boil over, it will. Use two pots.

Don't shove that mountain of potato peels down the disposal unless you have a plumber on your guest list. (Extra bonus tip: don't buy the bargain potato peeler.)

Don't forget to remove the squishy bag of giblets from the turkey. Check both cavities. Yes, there are two. And don't forget to roast the turkey neck and share it privately in the kitchen with the person who helped the most.

Yes, cheesecake is too a traditional Thanksgiving dessert.

Don't forget to pre-order the world's best pecan pie from the Culinary Institute unless you are willing to phone them at 6:59 a.m. Wednesday and beg for the privilege of overpaying for the very last pie that hadn't been reserved. (Thanks for the tip, Alexa!)

Should you decide to downsize and sell all your stuff, remember to save at least one tablecloth, just in case. And, downsized or not, don't use any tablecloth whose appearance won't be improved by splotches of cranberry sauce, gravy, red wine and chocolate (aka "The Breakfast of Champions).

Using paper napkins is not a moral failing.

Ice. You're going to need more ice.

You probably don't have too much wine.

Before sitting down, you may want to check the microwave and refrigerator to see what you are about to forget to serve.

If you want to remain thankful for more than 24 hours, do all the dishes before you go to bed. Yes, that means the pots, too.

If boys old enough to know better should squirt whipped cream directly from the can into their mouths, develop a sudden case of hysterical blindness and remember how cute they were when they were babies.

And somewhere between forkfuls, pause for a minute, look around the table to remember who is not there this year and promise yourself to appreciate those who are.

More Thanksgiving ideas:

One Book You Absolutely Must Have

Turkeys Shopping for Turkeys

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Jean-Paul Sartre Was Wrong

2012-11-10T18:14:00.000-06:00

Hell is not other people. Hell is the International Transit Desk at Indira Gandhi International Airport in New Delhi, India. Nearly a month has passed since my first encounter with the charming (not), helpful (certainly not) and efficient (hahaha) people staffing the International Transit Desk, and I am still in awe of my mind-boggling experience there. It was not an isolated incident, either; two weeks later I was obliged to go there again--same story.

I won't bore you with the details of my 30-some hour trips to and from Nepal; after all, I chose to go halfway around the world to see the Himalayas (more on that later). But I offer this as a cautionary tale.

Briefly: Americans need a visa to actually enter India. People who are merely changing planes in India en route to another country (say, for example, Nepal) need not get one. Instead, they simply go to the Transit Desk where their baggage is checked through to their outgoing flight, and pick up their boarding passes. Simplicity itself, right?

Um. No. Fresh from a 16-hour flight from Chicago, we walked briskly through the airport and found the International Transit Desk with no problem at all. As we had only carry-on luggage, all we needed to do was pick up our boarding passes for our flight to Kathmandu, and be on our way.

Um. No. There was no line at any of the eight stations, so I picked one and approached, itinerary in hand, and told the woman behind the desk what I needed. She looked at me coolly and said, "Yes. Go sit down." This didn't seem to be a good answer, so I thought perhaps I hadn't been clear (after all, it had been a long flight). I politely restated my request. She exhaled sharply, stared coolly and said, "Yes. Sit down. I will call you." To which I smiled and replied, "Oh, I see, thank you, but I didn't give you my name yet." "Yes," she said. "Go sit down."

You probably think I am making this up, but I am not. If I were making it up, I would have made up something significantly more plausible. Anyway, after about thirty minutes, I went back to the desk, to another station, and asked for our boarding passes to be issued. The man listened passively until I finished, and then said, "Didn't you go to the other line first?" I nodded and he replied, "Then you must go back to her." Sheepishly (though now a little frustrated), I returned to the first line, where I was told (of course) to go sit down.

Sitting there, trying to remember the plot of Waiting for Godot, I began to fear that the 18-hour layover before our onward flight might not be enough. More than two hours later, (and for no apparent reason) they deigned to give us boarding passes. No explanation for the delay, and most certainly no apology. Counting ourselves lucky to escape, we got the hell out of there.

Two weeks later, on our return, the story was much the same. Oh, except for the fact that they originally wouldn't let us even enter the airport because our destination was Chicago, and due to Hurricane Sandy, they said, "America is closed." Um. No.

Can't wait to go back.

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Sunday Haiku XXX

2012-09-16T07:53:00.002-05:00

Ahh, mid-September--

When apples blush, green leaves rust

And Pirates collapse

More Haiku

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Sunday Haiku XXIX

2012-09-09T00:00:00.000-05:00

The only lion

Worth fearing is the one who's

Just outside your tent

More Haiku

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Sunday Haiku XXVIII

2012-09-02T00:00:00.000-05:00

Lives, like cool streams flow,

Just narrow canyons between

Heaving lakes of fire

More Haiku

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On and Off the Wagon

2012-08-31T18:57:00.000-05:00

As soon as I press "Publish" on this post, I am going to head next door to the bar at Sustenio, where I will not have one of these delicious cocktails garnished with a fresh jalapeno.

I won't be having one of these wonderful, refreshing stirred-not-shaken martinis, either.

Nor wine, red or white, nor a Stella Artois (favorite beer in all of Argentina), nor even a crisp prosecco to cap off this 100 degree Texas afternoon.

No, I'll be ordering a tall club soda. Again. Let me explain: for no good reason that I can think of, I decided that I would not drink any alcohol for the entire month of August. Then I immediately made the mistake of telling people about my little experiment. Naturally, it was only hours before I had been invited to a couple of happy hours, a wine dinner and a reception. Rats.

Still, a commitment's a commitment--even if it's only to myself--so each time I went out this month, I ordered a club soda with lime. One thing's for damn certain: I won't get scurvy.

Sometime during the first couple of days of the experiment, obviously drunk on Schweppe's, I expansively vowed that I would donate what I didn't spend on drinks to the San Antonio Food Bank.

Of course I lost track of the number of club sodas and iced teas I had in lieu of icy martinis and bubbly glasses of champagne, but I figure $100 is a good, round number. So, first thing tomorrow, I will put a check in the mail.

Second thing will be a Bloody Mary.

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I've Got a Secret

2012-08-28T20:34:00.000-05:00

I obviously have too much time on my hands, because the other day I was fooling around on-line completing a kind of odd questionnaire.

One of the questions was, "How long would you last under torture before you would tell everything you know?" They say you never know how tough you are until you are put to the test. I disagree with "They." I know without a doubt that I wouldn't last two minutes. In fact, I wouldn't even try.

Just thinking about bamboo under my fingernails, or strategically placed electrodes makes me shudder. Heck, I'd probably surrender after the first kick with a steel-toed boot. Or an unkind word.

I like to think I might tough it out for quite a while in prison before giving up--even in solitary confinement, because, hey--I actually like being alone. And sitting still is well within my skill set.

These photos were taken in Ushuaia, Argentina at the Prison Museum. (Not MOMA, but a cool place for a field trip anyway.) The barrel in the middle is the only heat supply. In Tierra del Fuego.

Brrrrr.

I'd say the bathrooms could use some sprucing up.

Interrogation Room

I've never been much of a gossip, and now that I'm 50+, I have a tendency to forget most of what people tell me anyway. So feel free to tell me all your secrets; I won't tell a soul. Promise. Unless there's a dentist's drill involved.

More about Argentina and Antarctica

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Sunday Haiku XXVII

2012-08-26T00:00:00.000-05:00

Climbing or dreaming,

Altitude and attitude

Determine how high

More Haiku

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A Fang for a Fang

2012-08-24T21:02:00.000-05:00

Look what I saw on my walk the other morning. I just love walking in Texas. I wish I could tell you a harrowing tale of how I narrowly escaped his awesome fangs, but the truth is that he was already dead when I got there.

So I already had serpents on the brain when I read an article about the Nepali man who, while tending his rice paddy, was bitten by a venomous white cobra. (Don't worry, he was treated and is home, recovering nicely.) The bite in itself is not unusual: more than 20,000 snake bites are reported each year in Nepal. No, what is unusual is this -- the man chased the cobra, caught it, and bit the snake back, killing it. Wow. How do you say"Chuck Norris" in Nepali?

Quoted in the Annapurna Post, (I swear I'm not making this up), the farmer said that he was very angry at the snake, so although "I could have killed it with a stick, I was mad with anger and wanted to take revenge with my teeth." Well, of course.

I really hadn't planned on revealing my next travel destination yet; I was going to string you along for a while, dropping witty hints and making abstruse allusions, but now I feel compelled to tell you that my sister and I are headed to Nepal. Yes, mysterious Nepal, home to Kathmandu, Everest, Annapurna, magnificent temples and angry men who kill snakes with their teeth.

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Future Fossils of America

2012-08-13T19:29:00.000-05:00

Teaser: I have booked my next trip. I'll reveal my destination pretty soon. For now, I will tell you that it's going to involve some hiking. In anticipation, I have amped up my regular morning walks to get me in top form (well, top form for 50+, anyway). Lately it has been approximately a billion degrees in Texas, which has added nicely to the degree of difficulty.

It's been so hot that I haven't even felt like going to one of the nearby parks or greenways; I just put on my sneakers and head out the door before I get a chance to think about whether or not this might be the day that I actually liquefy. Luckily, it's not very far past my front door that I come across some views like these.

Even with the tiny bit of rain we've had, the Texas wildflowers are hanging in there, allowing me to pretend that I'm in the Hill Country or Big Bend, and not just beyond my parking lot. I was musing about that the other day (I have taken up musing during my walks instead of listening to music) and wondered how else I could trick myself into thinking I was on an adventure when I most clearly was not.

As I was walking past a limestone "cliff," and noticing its striations, it occurred to me that there were probably tons of fossils embedded there. (One danger of musing while walking is that it encourages foolish behavior.) So, I veered off the path and sideswiped some cacti while capturing an impressive number of burrs on my socks. I walked perhaps 15 yards, crouched down and started randomly picking up hunks of rock, turning them over, brushing off some dirt and inspecting them. Even at the time, I realized that it would probably take a long time to find anything, but -- not being all that goal-oriented -- I decided to just mess around until I wasn't having fun anymore.

Something less than ten minutes later, I found these great spiral shell fossils, as well as a couple of bivalves and something I didn't recognize at all, but am calling a "leaf."

How crazy, I thought; I just decided to go looking for something and 1-2-3, there it was! What a great way to start the day. Do you suppose that will work for my keys?

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Sunday Haiku XXVI

2012-08-12T00:00:00.000-05:00

Trekking the planet

Packing crayons and wonder,

Learning perspective

More Haiku

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Sunday Haiku XXV

2012-08-05T07:58:00.000-05:00

Life, odd as mahjohngg,

Yet we continue to play,

Not knowing the rules.

More Haiku

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Guest Haiku

2012-07-29T00:00:00.000-05:00

For the first time, 50+ has a guest poet. Today's haiku is by Bill Merrill, friend and book lover extraordinaire. Thanks, Bill!

Light paws move in sleep

Daydreams of phantom squirrels

The unending chase

More Haiku

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Cha-ching!

2012-07-27T21:16:00.000-05:00

Time to update you on the Runaway Fund. Long-time readers know that a big part of my 50+ journey involves travel. So I opened a separate savings account with bits of "found" money, and earmarked it for fun new experiences only.

Since my last update, I have added $986, pushing the fund past $2,700. It would have been more, but somehow during downsizing, some of my "found" money was "lost" to plumbers, electricians, landscapers, painters, handymen--basically everybody and his dog.

Field near my new downsized digs

But thanks to friends who kindly used me as a referral for their fabulous Overseas Adventure Travel vacation to Australia this spring, the Runaway Fund got a $400 boost. Thanks, you guys.

Then a big chunk came when United Health Care unexpectedly refunded $421 of my 2011 premiums, courtesy of a provision in The Affordable Health Care Act. Thanks, Obamacare.

Another chunk came from you. Look to the right of the photo and you'll see an Amazon search box. If you click on that search box, you will be directed seamlessly to Amazon.com. If you make a purchase, 50+ gets a commission (generally 4-6%). Since the blog began last August, 50+ has earned $165 as a result of your Amazon purchases. Thank you!

So if you, or your friends, or your book club or your business ever buy from Amazon.com, I'd be thrilled if you did it through 50+. Think of it this way--it costs you nothing, and it will help send me who-knows-where (but I'm thinking maybe Nepal). Anybody want to come along?

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Sunday Haiku XXIV

2012-07-22T00:00:00.000-05:00

Summer birds commune

in warm treetops, but cross cool

autumn skies alone

More Haiku

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WTF, Colorado?

2012-07-20T18:52:00.000-05:00

Because English is my first language, I have to concede that the Second Amendment does indeed protect Americans' right to own guns, even though I often don't like the grisly fruit of that right.

But, y'know, just because something is constitutional doesn't mean that it is a good idea. Blacks being considered 3/5 of a person was once constitutional, too. So was a woman's ineligibility to vote.

I recognize fears of government tyranny, and the need many feel to be armed in order to protect their lives and families. Those aren't crazy ideas, and it doesn't advance the dialogue to paint them as such.

But I also recognize the heartbreak and waste caused by the far more common and far less noble uses of the very arms our constitution protects.

Take a deep breath, everyone. Maybe the best we can hope for is that, before everyone seizes on the latest mass shooting atrocity as an excuse to begin bleating the same arguments we always trot out on these occasions, is that we pause and admit this: it's complicated.

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How Can it be July Already?

2012-07-15T00:00:00.000-05:00

Two really patient and loyal readers reminded me (again) today that it has been a long, long, LONG time since my last post. While my general tendency towards laziness and an exceptional capacity for procrastination are mostly to blame, I've also been a little busy, what with selling my house and most of my stuff and all. So in case anyone other than Bill, Dena and my mother is looking for an update, here is where I've landed after shedding about three months and 3,000 square feet. Pretty sweet.

Goodbye, suburban homeowner and hello, apartment dweller. It's only been a few months, but so far, I'm loving it. On to the next adventure, I guess.

And by the time you read this, one wonderful boy will turn 20, and I will no longer be a mom of teenagers! Happy Birthday, Vic.

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Good Kids in Five Easy Steps

2012-05-13T16:39:00.000-05:00

I have never studied child psychology. I have absolutely no academic background in family systems. I have not conducted research, written monographs or reviewed the voluminous literature on the subject. There is probably no one on the internet any less qualified to offer her opinions on child-rearing. But somehow, I accidentally raised two really great boys. So, for what it's worth, here's my method.

Five Simple Rules for Raising Good Kids

Be nice to your children.
When they emerge from the womb, they do not know how to act, so they will copy exactly what they see. Show 'em something nice.

Speak respectfully to your children.
They will speak to you the way you speak to them. Kids do not understand sarcasm. In fact, I don't really understand it either--I think sarcasm is just a way to be mean while pretending to be clever. Screaming doesn't make your point any clearer--it just makes it louder. Parenting by decibel is not a good choice.

Spend time with your children.
Lots of time. For years we have been hearing about "quality time." What your kids want is quantity time. That is the reason toddlers suddenly need you the moment you try to take a phone call or a nap or a bath. That's the reason they yell, "Hey, Mom, hey Mom, watch me!" at the pool. It doesn't matter if you are playing Candyland or chess, or carving pumpkins or just watching t.v. together. Just be there with them. Really be there--not looking at your e-mail or playing Angry Birds or leafing through a magazine. I know you're busy, but trust me--you'll be amazed at how much better their behavior will be if you are just present.

Tell your children the truth.
This is hard sometimes, so you have to start very early and make it a habit. You also have to have an arsenal of non-answers and be ready to use them. Say, "Y'know, I'm not ready to talk about that right now," or "Let me think about that for a minute." Don't make stuff up. Don't let them see you invent stories or excuses for your behavior or theirs. Remember, if you lie, they will lie.

Get control of your anger.
Kids can drive you absolutely crazy. When you are so frustrated that you feel you may lose your mind, leave the room. Just walk away. Exploding will not help the situation. Don't listen to that nonsense about "venting." Venting is just another excuse to be mean while pretending to be merely exasperated. You are the adult--don't say things that can't be unsaid and expect to fix it with an apology later. Remember, they will copy you.

Of course, you don't have to do these things. In fact, you absolutely should not do them unless you want to raise nice, respectful, even-tempered, truthful people who want to spend time with you.

Related post: Sibling Rivalry? Us?
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Losing Weight

2012-04-28T22:01:00.000-05:00

Yeah, this is my kitchen. I know it looks like my cabinets and drawers partied too much and threw up all over the counters, but really I'm just getting ready for the upcoming estate sale. Still, I am appalled by sheer volume of stuff that somehow hid in my seemingly organized, neat house.

Although I was never under the delusion that the garage and the attic were in any way acceptable.

Yep, most of the stuff in the dining room is going bye-bye. Good china, crystal, cream soup dishes (sorry, Mom), a gorgeous caviar server (sorry, Dad -- but at least you rescued the spoons)--all are destined to be someone else's new treasure.

So if you need any candlesticks or silver serving pieces or antique linens,

or lovely knickknacks, or great collections of books on the civil war and polar exploration (mostly the South pole, but some North Pole, too),

or if you are really nuts and want some outdated electronics, Disney VHS tapes, clothes, shoes, belts, stuffed animals, sombreros, stuffed barracudas,

or even some really great artwork and furniture that just won't fit into my new, much less cluttered life -- come on over next weekend and bring your best checkbook and a big truck. It's gonna be great.

Related post: And On Next Week's Hoarders

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And on Next Week's "Hoarders"...

2012-04-20T22:33:00.000-05:00

My friend and faithful reader, Bill, suggested that I explain my long silence. While I wish it was because I'd been climbing in Nepal or meditating in Rajasthan or rafting down the Irrawaddy, the truth is that I am following through on my oft-repeated threat to downsize.

In a rare moment of mania following the St. Petersburg half-marathon in February, I impulsively phoned a realtor (from the airport!) and listed my house for sale.

Well, it sold. Fast. Leaving me wondering: what the hell have I done?? And, where the hell did all this stuff come from??

Unable to answer either of those questions, I have nonetheless spent weeks (no exaggeration) sorting through every closet, every drawer, every cabinet, every bookshelf and even -- horrifyingly -- the attic -- to select the tiny fraction of stuff which will join me when I move into 75% less space ten days from now.

For a while there I was feeling overwhelmed, but you know what? I'm actually pretty excited now. And I promise, I'll keep you posted.

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Sunday Haiku XXIII

2012-04-08T00:00:00.000-05:00

Black bats, bright fireflies,

Summer's predators and prey,

Share sweet evening skies

More Haiku

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Wish Me Luck, Part Deux

2012-03-30T16:21:00.000-05:00

I know, I know...the lottery is nothing more than a tax on the foolish, which is why I haven't bought a ticket in years and years. People who are better than me at math say that I am 250 times more likely to get hit by an asteroid than I am to hit the jackpot. Still, come on, half-a-billion dollars? What can I say--I guess I've found the number that piques my interest.

Besides, buying a ticket for the Mega Millions jackpot isn't the dumbest thing I've ever done. In fact, it's not even the dumbest thing I've done today. Originally, I'd planned to post a litany of the really, truly, exquisitely dumb things I have done, but on reflection, losing tonight's drawing should provide sufficient humility for one day. I'll tell you about the other dumb things later. Unless I get hit by an asteroid tonight.

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Wish Me Luck!

2012-03-26T15:23:00.000-05:00

I SWEAR

that when I decided to name this blog "50+ and on the Run,"

this is not what I had in mind.

Oh, well-- I'll be going now.

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Sunday Haiku XXII

2012-03-18T00:00:00.000-05:00

Even as atoms

Coalesce to make us "us"

Pieces fall away

More Haiku

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My 7 Super Shots

2012-03-14T22:55:00.000-05:00

A couple of days ago, Kate Convissor of the wonderful blog, WanderingNotLost, surprised me by nominating 50+ and on the Run to participate in HostelBookers' 7 Super Shots. My first reaction was, "Who, me? Really?" followed by "Well, this is pretty cool," and finally "Boy, I really have to do a much better job organizing my travel photos." I will get around to that one of these days, but for now, here are my entries:

A photo that takes my breath away

Amazing, amazing Antarctica.

A photo that makes me laugh

This gentleman was spending a Sunday afternoon sitting on his floating house and looking across the muddy water of Iquitos, Peru. The bucket on his head? No idea. We called him "the mayor."

A photo that makes me dream

Dawn on the south island of New Zealand. It was nearly impossible to choose which photo of New Zealand makes me dream; they all make me dream...of returning there soon, and staying for a long time.

A photo that makes me think

Nuclear plant on the outskirts of Xi'an, China. Makes me think about how cavalierly we disrespect the planet. Compare this photo to the one of NZ above.

A photo that makes my mouth water

I'm not planning on committing any capital crimes, but if I do, and am given a chance to choose my last meal, this is it: the burrata with heirloom tomatoes, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and pesto from Dough Pizzeria in San Antonio, Texas. Oh, my.

A photo that tells a story

In the gardens of Hangzhou, China.

The photo of which I'm most proud

Just another day on the side of the road just outside of Queenstown, New Zealand. Although this photo is probably technically better, I'm cheating and adding an extra bonus photo (the director's cut?) of penguins roosting in a snow squall near Port Lockroy, Antarctica, because I just couldn't bear to leave it out. Forgive me, Hostelbookers.

Now I get to nominate bloggers to participate; if you don't already know their work, you should!
No Vacation Required
The Bucket List Journey
Unbrave Girl
The Travel Chica
Migrationology

Here’s the link; and here’s the rules:

Choose 7 of your own photos, one for each of the following categories:

A photo that…takes my breath away
A photo that…makes me laugh or smile
A photo that…makes me dream
A photo that…makes me think
A photo that…makes my mouth water
A photo that…tells a story
A photo that…I am most proud of (aka my worthy of National Geographic shot)

2. Write a short description for each image.
3. Write somewhere in your blog post: ‘I am taking part in HostelBookers 7 Super Shots‘.4. Tell us you have participated and tweet the hashtag #7SuperShots
5. Nominate 5 other bloggers by including a link to their blog in your post.

We will be retweeting and sharing the best posts from participating bloggers

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