Checks and Balances

I love accounting for assets appropriately. For larger accounts and ones that vary with an index, rate or time, I'm happy if I have a good idea of balances, within 5%-10%. One of my pet dislikes is large dollar amounts with two decimals, reflecting a level of accuracy that does not exist. Conversely, I like to see a household checking account with many transactions balanced to the penny.

Bob balanced our checking account for many years, according to a formula that included an unrecorded credit of several hundred dollars, such that he was comfortable as long as his record and the bank's "balanced" within $200-$400. I was eager to change this when I retired and immediately started watching the checking account every day, with the objective of determining the exact amount of the discrepancy. After noting a constant discrepancy from day to day, I adjusted our checkbook balance and began to take pride in the fact that we had a perfect record of the balance every day.

 Bob likes to maintain a manual register, so I had to reacquaint myself with the art of mental addition and subtraction, or use scratch sheets when necessary so that an accurate balance would always show in the check register. About once a week, I balance with the bank and my simple Excel checkbook register. On Wednesday, I congratulated myself after a particularly satisfying balancing session. Perfect, because my knowledge of pending transactions was perfect.

Yesterday I couldn't find the checkbook. I checked everywhere I had been the day before, emptied my purse, picked through the trash and recycling, emptied dining room buffet drawers, returned four times to check the desk Bob and I share. This went on for several hours, and I soon felt like a total incompetent. A hot, sweaty, frustrated and cranky incompetent.

In desperation, I prayed to St. Anthony and promised $10 for the pain de Saint Antoine if I found the checkbook. I immediately felt at peace and knew that I could easily recreate the check register from my e-record. Since I was quite sure that the checkbook hadn't left the house, I wasn't even worried about the checks,instruments that are rapidly becoming obsolete anyway.

This morning, Bob found the checkbook on the refrigerator, which I am too short to see. I had set the item there while tidying the top of the radiator, and then forgotten about it. I'm glad that I didn't have to get the big guns (St. Jude, Our Lady of Perpetual Help) on the job. I don't really think that you can bribe saints into ten dollar intercessory prayer, but just in case I'll be sure to drop off the promised funds at my favorite church of St. Louis de France.

The Lost Art of Cookie Baking

I'm sure I must have misunderstood Martha Stewart's directions. These cookies are going to the birds.

A quarter of a century ago (sounds longer than 25 years), I was a habitual and damn good cookie baker. It was a good entertainment for a young child, while teaching measuring skills too -- that was my mother's take on baking when my sister and I were little. The child in question has grown up with excellent measuring skills, but I'm not sure he's still familiar with the ones needed for successful cookie baking. Seems I'm not either.

Last Sunday I decided to crack open a new bag of flour and make peanut butter cookies. Rather than climb up on the kitchen step stool to bring down my trusty, but now under-used, Betty Crocker cookbook, I looked up an online Martha Stewart recipe. Looked familiar, with the usual ingredients (peanut butter, butter, egg, brown sugar but not too much of it, flour, baking soda). I added a bit of vanilla because it seemed wrong not to include it.

As I whipped through the baking routine, I thought with great satisfaction that I must have improved my efficiency in the last two decades, as I cleaned dishes during the time the cookies were in the oven, and prepared a third sheet as well, ending up with exactly the number (48) of cookies Martha said I'd get. I was feeling that my long professional career, filled with multitasking and coordinated tasks, was paying off in the kitchen. I wondered for a only a second or so whether 18-22 minutes wasn't a little long for a batch of cookies.

My self congratulatory interlude ended abruptly when I realized that the cookies were all over baked. Some were even a little burned on the bottom. I scraped off the dry crumbs on the bottom of most of the cookies and immediately put half of them in one of my bird feeders. Over the week, Bob and I have each had a couple of cookie pieces each day, but the rest, smelling a little charred, will go to the birds, who attacked the first batch with great enthusiasm. I can't believe that Martha was wrong but didn't have enough energy to recheck the baking time.

Betty Crocker is coming down to counter level.


De-cluttered Serenity

Well, maybe not serenity. Not me, not yet anyway. And the de-cluttering initiative is still in its infancy. I hadn't realized until I had a little time to assess my environment that clutter had pretty much taken over every room.

One of my first resolutions was to keep a cleaner kitchen and bathrooms. The bathrooms were fairly easy, as they are both small and uncluttered. The kitchen isn't big either, but there are more hiding places for junk and counters serve as collection surfaces for food, dishes, glasses, coupons and other mess. The kitchen still needs work, but so far I've got a clean fridge and food cupboards.

The most recent success was the hall linen closet and the four drawers that I've always used in lieu of a dresser. I attack a new hoarding area every couple of days. I tackled the job a shelf and drawer at a time. The easy decisions, like removing and refolding linens, were made first. The top shelf was only a moderate success, because most of the contents were Bob's, and I could throw out only so much. In the end, I put back his "upstairs" tools and painting drop sheet. I was more aggressive with the bottom drawer that included baby photos and toiletries from the Hotel Mediterraneo in Rome, collected in 1999. I felt a little regretful parting with the azure colored shampoo but happily tossed the rest.

The goal: total declutter (except for basement and attic) by the end of the 2013.

Groceries and Booze

The only grocery shopping I've done for over 20 years is for special celebrations and family parties, so it was an eye-opener to take it on after Bob's surgery. My first time out, I was mentally and physically spent about half-way through the experience. I couldn't figure out the layout of Bob's favorite store, the Larpenteur Rainbow Foods, and I was frustrated looking for sold-out coupon items. Moreover, I found myself picking up many products on a whim and forgetting about my list.  I went for the no hassle, coupon free shopping pleasure of Kowalski's and Lund's, rather than navigate Rainbow, where I have to bag my own stuff and feel compelled to use the coupons from the Sunday paper.

This morning I was there before ten, armed with my list and a modest number of coupons. I went off list a couple of times (prepared tuna salad, liverwurst, birthday candles) but was smart enough to shop the aisles at either end of the store, and go down the middle for frozen foods at the end of shopping trip.

I included a little side trip to the adjacent liquor store for wine and beer. I am quite familiar with liquor stores and soon grabbed what I needed for Bob's birthday and Grand Old Day this weekend. Alas, no wines to sample at 10:00 a.m.

The Hummingbird Jigsaw Puzzle Seduction

In the lunchroom shared by staff of the departments of Commerce and Health, a jigsaw is always in progress on one of the tables. The fact that I was never able to add even one piece to any puzzle over a period of several years should have served as some kind of warning indicator leading me away from any temptation to buy a puzzle.

Last week, I was shopping in Barnes & Noble and was drawn to a colorful box decorated with a beautiful photo of a hummingbird. I picked up the box and my fear of the 500-piece puzzle, for ages 14 and up, was outweighed by the vision of a lovely framed 18" X 18" hummingbird brightening Minnesota's long winter.

Support for Audubon seemed like a good idea, at least in the beginning

"Do the outside frame first," I thought, and struggled mightily for several days until Bob suggested that I measure how big 18" actually is. A good tip. I managed to get the corners done and gradually finished the frame, about 15% of the puzzle. Along the way, I realized that a few pieces didn't quite fit, and "close" wasn't good enough, messing up the possibility of real matches for other parts of the puzzle.

Over the weekend, I got the bird finished and filled in a lot of sections, such that I'm now about 75% done, with shades of green left. I've learned that I should have looked for a methodology before undertaking what has turned into a monumental task. Turns out it would have been better to construct sections first, by color, something that has occurred to me as I've struggled to find one piece out of a couple of hundred to fit in only one spot, and start over again with the next piece.

Not sure I'll be doing this again anytime soon!

Mowing the Lawn

Bob won't be able to mow the lawn for awhile yet, and I was eager to see what I could do. My experience: one brutal session with an old push mower 50 years ago and one or two passes around the back yard a few decades back, when Bob was on a motorcycle trip at the height of the growing season. I needed our neighbor's help to start the mower, and I remember the experience as noisy, smelly and only marginally successful.

Armed with ear plugs and Bob's extensive mowing knowledgebase, I headed out for the first time last Thursday, and was inordinately proud when I succeeded in doing most of the lawn, under careful supervision, of course. This morning, probably our only dry day this week, I did all but the boulevard, a manageable flat surface for Bob.

The job is done with two mowers. The first is a self-propelled Honda, very conventional, with a tendency to "get away" from the operator. Its main advantage is its "one-pull" start that even an inexperienced, non-mechanical person like me can start. The second mower is a "FlyMo" rescued from the neighbor's trash, used to mow the bank down to the sidewalk. It's quite a contraption: a mower that "floats" on the surface of the grass, adapted by Bob for the bank with a old water ski rope attached to and wrapped around the mower handle. Holding on to the ski handle, I lower the mower to the bottom of the bank, maintaining just enough control to cut the grass. I couldn't help laughing, knowing full well why cars slow down as they pass by.

Now that I've got the hang of it, I really enjoy mowing the lawn. The task is clear; the results are visible and measurable, immediately gratifying. The smell of fresh grass is a refreshing sensory experience of summer, right up there with a cold beer. The job has a beginning and an end, though the freshly mown look fades quickly.

I'm going to give myself an "A" for this one.

Gardeners Live Long Lives

Many studies (I wonder now how scientific they are) suggest that gardeners live long, healthy lives. I can't believe this is true. I got my feet wet about ten days ago filling the five planters with Bob, and that experience was fine -- easy on the nerves and not very demanding. Yesterday and today were a different story.

I spent several hours over the last two days planting a total of 74 plants (impatiens, alyssum, petunias, marigolds), in the flower bed near the garage and the other small area between the front and back yards. I'd prepared the ground the same day as I did the planters, but after all the rain we've had the ground was very hard and  I had to do some of the work again.

I divided each space into quadrants so that I could distribute the plants fairly evenly, going for a nice "random" design. On Bob's instructions, I dug a hole for each little plant, some of which were looking mighty sparse and fragile. Then I filled the watering can and poured water into each hole. Yesterday was impatiens day and by the time I'd shoved every little plant into the 34 holes, I felt as though I could go to bed for the rest of the day.

This morning, I finished up with the rest of the flowers. Despite my sister Marilyn's warning not to plant in the rain (soil is too compacted), I figured today was a better weather day than what we'll be getting the rest of the week, so I pushed forward. I passed on the gardening gloves today and my hands were totally mucked up after only a few minutes.

Midway through the project, Heather from P & J Medical came to pick up Bob's CPM machine. I left the job to talk to her for awhile, and realized after a minute or so that I must look like a crazy person. By this time, I was quite wet and my hair was plastered to my head. I had a big brown blob of mud on my glasses and my legs were streaked with dirt. After a little chit chat about yards and mowing, Heather left and I went back to my station. 20 plants to go. I wasn't concerned that passers-by and neighbors would see me in this frazzled, filthy state. I had turned into the kind of woman I've laughed at all these years.

By the time I finished, the watering can was so dirty that I had to hose it off. Because I can't kneel down on my fake knees, all the planting was done from a crouched position, and I had begun to stiffen up. My left elbow ached and my hands were cramped and cold. I felt about 95 years old, not shooting for 100.

The rain began to fall harder. I went into the house through the side door, and limped down the stairs to the basement for my shower. I sprayed off the mud and hoped that no one would come to the door as I walked through the house clad only a towel.

Lots of Exercise

I spent the first "real" weekend of spring looking out the window at summer temperatures from inside Bob's hospital room. Cyclists were out on their bikes and I wondered how long it would be before Bob is well enough to ride his bike. I checked my first total knee replacement (TKR) blog and saw that my first ride was in early April about 12 weeks after surgery, but I'm fairly sure I could have ridden my bike 5-6 weeks after surgery last fall. Of course, by then it was winter and there was no bike riding.

Bob came home from the hospital on April 29, and I was immediately drafted into action as fetcher and heavy lifter. I get up between 5 and 6, feed the cat and make coffee before bringing Bob his coffee at 7. By the end of an average day, I've made many trips up and down the stairs, especially if I'm doing laundry that day and am hitting the basement 3 or 4 times as well. My own quads are getting very strong and I don't feel the strain on my knees anymore. The CPM machine is quite heavy and unwieldy but the upper body exercises I've been doing for 6 months or so have paid off and it's fairly easy to manage. The activities of daily living are keeping me more active than I ever was sitting at a desk all day.

Lazy Woman's Silver Polish

Our everyday silver is a set Bob's family used when he was a child at home, but I never had time to polish it and most of the time, it was tarnished and dirty looking. A few years ago I undertook a major initiative to polish all of it, but the tarnish gradually came back and I had never succeeded in removing the black in the smallest sections of the pattern.

Two weeks ago I polished the silver again and applied a new treatment whenever I have a load of silver to wash:

Line plastic rectangular container (like a dishpan) with foil (the thin, cheap kind)

Fill the container with silver or silverplate

Sprinkle liberally with baking soda

Pour boiling water over the silver and let cool

Wash silver with a liquid detergent

Dry

Silver will be shiny and tarnish free -- especially after a couple of applications

Cosmetology as a Sideline?

I've been coloring my own hair for many years, with varying degrees of success. In the last few years, less successful experiences have included a head that was red on the top half and light brown on the bottom and a color so dark that I washed my hair a dozen times to lighten the shade. The last shampoo included about a cup of peroxide, which finally did the trick.

Before Christmas last year, I decided that from now on I would go to a professional for my coloring in the future. However, my natural frugality kicked in when I worked my last paid day and I've gone back to the home salon. This morning I decided that I'd try some auburn highlights. I split a dose of Nice'n Easy lightest auburn into two applications and used my gloved fingers to mix the color through my hair. The result looked a little "chunky" so I switched to a comb and ended up with a fully moistened head, though I could see that some sections were a little light.

Final result: pretty good. It looks more like auburn with blondish highlights, but it's reasonably attractive. And I still have one more application for next time.

Next Career: Not Nursing

When I was a teenager, I wanted to be nurse but any hope of a medical career was dashed when I fainted as I watched a doctor stitch up a kid's cut. As I lay under the lights in the procedure room, the physician suggested I pursue another line of work.

My retirement date was determined by my husband's knee replacement surgery scheduled for the end of April. Having gone through the surgery twice myself, I knew that support at home is critical to a successful recovery. Bob's surgery was performed yesterday, and this is my second day at the hospital, where activities seem to be centered around various bodily functions, all of them disgusting to someone as squeamish as I.

My stomach has already lurched so much that I'm already doing the countdown to Monday, when the patient is released from the hospital. I've already warned Bob that level of service will diminish when he gets home, and nurse's aide duties will not be included in the overall package. My future is full of opportunities but home nursing is not one of them.

On "Meaningful Work"

I felt very eager to begin the first of my retirement projects, the "online coffee table book" on under-represented regions of Minnesota, and I was looking forward to a field trip to northwestern Minnesota, where I would see and photograph the headwaters of the Mississippi River for the first time. However, heavy snows across Minnesota, including the Twin Cities, precluded such a junket until later in the spring. Instead, after finishing the day's snow shoveling, I began to organize papers and online files, with a view to creating some order and sequencing projects.

I found myself longing for the predictability of a work routine, even as I enjoyed the freedom of being outdoors for several hours a day and the opportunity to capture some good shots of Minnesota wildlife right here in St. Paul and Minneapolis. One afternoon, I went with  Bob on a business call to Cretin Derham Hall High School, one of his customers. The familiar, reassuring ambience of a school made me long for some kind of job there. I learned that "they're always looking for staff in the media center". I'm not even sure what a media center is -- a library, perhaps?  However, it has to be full of devices (desktops, laptops, printers, audio-visual apparatus) that would be familiar to me.

I'm not going to rush to a part-tine job, but it was good to know that  I might find a few hours of "meaningful work" some time next fall.

Snow Daze

It's almost shocking to wake up in the morning, knowing that I don't have to go to work. Fortunately, for 5 of my first 10 days I had plenty of work to do, with a number of major spring snowstorms that dumped over 17 inches of snow on the Twin Cities. The first day I was thrilled to have physical work to occupy my body and mind; by Wednesday, April 24 -- our last snow day till next season, I think -- the thrill had receded and I trudged through clearing the deck and sidewalks. Bob did the blowing (not an easy task with thick, wet, heavy spring snow) and I shoveled. Tons of snow.

Today we should see our first temps above 60 since November 10.

The Decision

Email to co-workers at the Department of Commerce (Friday, April 5, 2013):

It’s hard to believe that 40+ years in the workforce have flown by, 23 of them with the State of Minnesota, where I began as a “session only” legislative staffer in 1990.  I’ve had the privilege of working in several agencies but have spent more than half my state career at either the Department of Commerce or the Public Utilities Commission. I’ve participated in a number of challenging projects and initiatives over the years,  and have especially enjoyed this last assignment with MNIT at Commerce. I’m going to miss the daily challenges and, even more,  the colleagues who’ve become friends.

 

I’m looking forward to indulging my love of the outdoors and pursuing some of  the interests that require time I haven’t had until now. One of my first projects will integrate my love of Minnesota, writing, photography, technology and social media tools. The idea is an “online coffee table book”, with photos and some text, on Minnesota’s varied topographical regions, particularly those I consider to be under-represented. My own collection of photos is heavy on the Brainerd area lakes, Lake Superior and the Twin Cities, so my husband and I are planning excursions that will include the  headwaters of the Mississippi River this spring and southern Minnesota late in the summer.

 

I’m very proud  of my years of state employment, enriched by your support, example of public service and, above all, your friendship. At my request, there will be no retirement party,  but I  hope to visit with some of you before I leave, and am grateful to live in an era that allows us to stay in touch.

 

Thanks, everyone, for  many happy memories.

 

Catherine

 

cahennessey@comcast.net

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