The Middle Aged Travellin' Mack

It's a whole new ballgame travelling for business at my age. Half the hotel room bathroom counter was taken up with all the homey, Walgreen-y purchases that it takes to keep my antique body up and at 'em. You don't want to have to find all that crap out on the road. My fellow Middle-Agers found that out. One guy had to go out about ten a.m. in a strange city and buy Dr. Scholl's insoles for his tired feet, and then was totally bereft of a pair of scissors, in the middle of the meetings, to trim them to fit. Two women got sick (one from bad restaurant choices and one from good old upper-respiratory crud) and both could have kept on going if they had had a little Kaeopectate and a couple of antihistamine pills.

It's very tempting out in The Great Land of Expense Accounts, to pretend you still have the digestion of the Sweet Young Things around you. That you can eat what they eat, scarfing down greasy lunches and big suppers. The great truth is that your stomach is your stomach no matter where you take it, and if you can't do pepperoni anymore at home, it's not going to work a thousand miles away from home.

So here's the travel lessons I learned mostly, believe me, the hard way:

1. If you have to travel Business Casual, go for the most comfortable Business Casual clothes you own. And don't wear dressy-dressy, uncomfortable shoes until you hit the meeting room door. You can wear yourself out in modern airports before you even get on the plane. You're going to walk much, much more than you usually walk, so plan for comfort.

2. Plan for hurry-up-and-wait. Bring along a paperback and quarters for the newspaper vending machine. Carry a bottle of water with you whenever you can (that being before and after airport screening). If you don't want to chat on the plane, buy one of those blow-up neck support pillows and close your eyes. Even a 40 minute flight can be a 40-minute-long, refreshing nap. The worst you could miss is that 2.5 ounces of pop they hand out.

3. Right before I went to Europe, somebody told me to lay out all the clothes I thought I would need and all the money I thought I would need on my bedspread. And then to take half the clothes and twice the money. The point being to (a) underpack—you will thank yourself over and over again, and (b) plan for contingencies, and Laws-A-Mercy, will there be contingencies! I got this trip down to my two smallest rolling suitcases, and I checked both suitcases. Then I went through the airports with a big, silvery, oversized travel purse and a girly-girl carry-all with my reporting orders, my paperback book, my water bottle, and my knitting.

4. Get to know the hotel staff. If you have a concierge, consult that person about restaurants, public transportation, amenities, extra pillows, where the spa treatments are, et al. Our hotel this trip was the big, swanky Marriott in Atlanta, and the amenities were wonderful. Two of my compatriots asked for refrigerators in their rooms and they got 'em. We all had European-style, pillow-top mattresses with duvets and good pillows. We had a big indoor-outdoor rooftop pool and a full-sized Starbucks.

And tip the maids, tip the bellboy, tip the courtesy shuttle driver. Those are the people who have saved my bacon over and over again. I cash out a couple of 20-dollar bills into ones before every trip, and I tip people. I have gotten wonderful, hospitable things done for me for those onesies. You never know what can really make a difference. So spread a little graciousness around.

5. If you regularly can't sleep through the night, plan for it. If you aren't sleeping at home, then it's statistically probable you aren't going to sleep through the night in some strange hotel room. The world won't stop because you're awake at two a.m. One tip is to turn the TV on sleep-timer with the volume down just to a mumble-minimum. It acts like white noise. Or run a little hot water through the coffeemaker and use that chamomile teabag you brought from home.

6. Plan for stress release. On longer trips, I look in the Yellow Pages under "Yoga." If I can't find a yoga studio, then I go to knitting shops or bookstores. The last time I was stuck in Atlanta, I went on a big Grayline bus tour one weekend, and I joined a group going to Stone Mountain the next weekend. I got to see the Phoenix Symphony Orchestra Triple Beethoven season opener and the Science Museum's James Bond traveling exhibit. You got to have balance, good work-play balance, even if you are living out of a suitcase.

7. Celebrate coming back home. I did my favorite little chicken meatballs for my first supper back home. I went over and talked to my favorite clerks at the huge Goodwill store. I got down on the floor and played Catnip Mouse with the cats. It's good to be back home in my little treetop studio apartment.

We are all, Babies, gonna be working a whole lot longer than we figured on. And sooner or later we are all gonna be loping down some skyway with an E-ticket. We are all gonna be told to hike to a business meeting "just six blocks away." I saw big groups of sales teams, all in matching polo shirts and big matching binders, galumping around the hotel and down Peachtree Avenue, and they were not slowing down for the middle-aged ones. We had to hike to a business center every morning, and climb stairs to get to the tower elevator. We had to walk to lunch and run for the Marta trains. And after the meetings, we all wanted to do fun things that involved, yup, walking.

At the very end of my trip, on the big shuttle van home, I met a fellow middle-ager who is working delivering cars. He drives new cars to new owners and then flies back home. He says they pay him just about enough to eat at McDonald's. But he's working. We are all gonna be working. This is not the life we planned, but it's the live we got. Here's to us.

And here's those Chicken Meatballs:

Mince about 3 Tbl. of sweet onion and mix with
1 Tbl. parsley
1 tsp. minced garlic

Crumble in one-half pound of ground chicken
1/4 cup Italian bread crumbs
2 Tbl. grated Parmesan cheese
1/4 tsp. salt
dash pepper
1 egg

Mix well, and shape into eight small meatballs.

Brown in 2 Tbl. oil. Then add 2 Tbl. water and 2 Tbl. red wine
Cover and simmer for 20 minutes.

Take meatballs out of pan and make pan gravy:

Measure juice in pan and add water to make 1 cup liquid
Add a beef boullion cube and a capful of Kitchen Bouquet browning agent

Make a roue of 1 Tbl. flour in 2 Tbl. water. Add to gravy and stir to blend and thicken. Reintroduce meatballs to pan and heat everything through.

Serves two.

And Speaking of Macaroni....

This is a true story. It happened to a friend of my friend Annie.

Annie's friend took her only son up to college. Took him to the bookstore and got his books and a college sweatshirt. Got him unpacked in the dorm room. Went down and bought him a cafeteria card. And then she hugged him and handed him a small amount of cash. She told him, "Now, Daddy and I have talked this over and we can send you this amount of money every month, but no more. So you're gonna have to budget. But you've got your room and your cafeteria pass and you should be OK."

Eight days later, Son called home. He said, "I need more money."

"For what?" his incredulous mother asked.

"Food."

"But you've got your cafeteria pass."

"I sold that. I don't like that food."

"But you have your cash allowance."

"I bought everybody pizza. And restaurants are expensive. It's gone."

"I'll call you back," his mother said. She did better than that. She drove up to the college and she handed Son a big bag of macaroni.

"What's this?"

"Macaroni."

"Why are you giving me macaroni?"

"Because you don't have any more money coming in for 22 more days."

"But what do you want me to do?"

"I want you," his mother told him, "to learn to like macaroni."

What this country needs is about two million more moms like that.

J.

Seven Dollars A Day, My Aunt Fannie!

Ran across a blog called "Eating on Seven Dollars A Day." The author pulled his punches, however, declaring that the main ingredients for supper be seven dollars, for two servings, and then you cart the leftovers to work the next day for lunch. And wherefore art thou, breakfast?

I can do better than that. I eat on about five dollars a day, breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks. And no, ramen noodles never cross my lips.

It's good, healthy eating, based on good nutrition and the things that got me my Lifetime Key at Weight Watchers. I did Weight Watchers, BTW, because you are never hungry-starving on Weight Watchers. I eat enviably good.

Repeat after me:

A normal, healthy adult only needs five to seven ounces of protein a day.

While it is fun to have a big protein-feed now and then, a diet focused more on vegetables, healthy grains and fruits will keep you spry. And who doesn't want to be spry? I have fruit and whole-grain bread for breakfast, or fruit and cottage cheese. I cook two or three entrees every Sunday (mainly chicken and fish and vegetarian) and I heat up a small serving of one of those entrees for lunch at work. Dinner is a fresh salad, a little more protein and good-quality skim milk.

Snacks are 33 cent mozzarella string cheese sticks, or carrot sticks (from a big 69-cent pack of carrots), or Wheat Thin crackers (bought on sale). My grocery store does a wonderful job of stocking fresh fruit in season, on sale. This week I got strawberries for $1.50 a quart and two tangelos for 50 cents each. I also got a big pink grapefruit, which I eat like an orange. My co-workers are positively fascinated with my snacks and the Sherman Tank Health level of an Old Lady like me.

Americans need to get over their obsession with meat. If your plate was the face of a clock, meat should take up no more than one quarter of the plate, the space from nine to 12 o'clock. It's better still to mix a little meat in with the other ingredients.

My vegetarian entree this week is what my Southern mother always called, "Snap Beans and New Potatoes." Fresh green beans were 69 cents for a two-pound pack this week, and I will cook them with the last of the new baby potatoes from the Hmong farmers at the Minneapolis farmer's market. Serve it up with sliced tomatoes, and it is a meal fit for a King. Or a parsimonious Divorced Lady.

Other dirt cheap feasts include:

Stir-Fried Cabbage, with sweet onion and soy sauce

A good old-fashioned chicken pot pie, (with the meat gleaned from backs-and-necks if money is tight), and a sour cream crust

Oven roasted baked potatoes, with The Brown Derby Restaurant's recipe for creamed spinach over the top.

Macaroni Anything. Macaroni has wonderful mouth feel, and a big bag of any frozen vegetables (my store's house brand is 99 cents) mixed with macaroni will keep you alive till next payday.

"But, hey, lady, I like meat!" you say? Then make friends with the butcher. If you go in early (I do mean early), you can get the markdowns from the day before. My last 6 a.m. foray to the grocery store scored me six pork chops for $1.99 and a four-pack of chicken breasts for about three bucks.

I also watch the sales on meats. I buy up ground chicken, or ground turkey or lean ground beef when it goes on deep sale. I divide it up at home into four-ounce freezer packs. Or I cook down huge turkey wings and use the meat for turkey and noodles. Or I wait for the big bags of Wisconsin cheese to go on sale, and make a big, baked macaroni and cheese.

I don't scrimp on quality skim milk, or yoghurt or cottage cheese or good whole-grain bread. I have a bad jones for Italian pasta. I eat out with friends, when there's coupons. I have been known to go to a bargain matinee and eat enough popcorn that supper is just a snack that evening. I ask for things like Italian expresso powder and Italian tomato-paste-in-a-tube for stocking stuffers.

Tomorrow I will cook my mother's macaroni recipe, with about four ounces of lean ground sirloin, stewed tomatoes, celery and Vidalia onion. Then I will oven-bake the last of a six-pound bag of catfish fillets I found at the grocery store for three bucks. Make a saucepan full of glazed carrots. Make some homemade biscuits for a not-so-sweet strawberry shortcake. And eat like a queen for another week.

Oh, and I also contribute to the food bank. So I feed myself, the cats and the food bank.

Seven dollars a day, my Aunt Fannie! That's for amateurs!

Christmas - How To Be Happy In Spite of One's Self

Christmas - How To Be Happy In Spite of One's Self,


Back when I worked at the Radio Ranch, I had a bright yellow poster in my
office. It was entitled, "How To Be Happy In Spite of One's Self."

Joyce Meyer gave a sermon about that a couple of years ago. She said as
long as the Devil can make you just walk around, staring at your own navel,
going, "What about me?! What about me?!" -- then he owns your butt.

So--

1. Go to your favorite local grocery store. Experiment around and see
what's the biggest bag of dry dog food you can lift. Seven pounds? 15? 50? 75? And then haul it out to the local humane society. Walk a couple of those big,
graybeard dogs while you're out there.

2. Go to your favorite discount store and buy six pairs of mittens. Take
them to the local homeless shelter. And my friend who runs the AIDS hospice
says people at the very lowest end of the socioeconomic food chain have
problems with Sock Management. He believes all God's children get clean,
dry socks. He has a desk drawer full of them. D.D., who has run a homeless
women's and children's center, got corporate yuppies to buy plus size underpants, 30 pairs at a time, and donate them.

3. If you have a weekend, cover your oldest bedspread in flannelette. Find
some grade school kids to help you tack it with yarn and tie double bows.
Then take it down to the fire department. They'll give it to someone who's
lost everything in a house fire.

4. Hitch up the dog and go on a dusky, full-moon walk. Admire all those
Christmas lights. It takes a certain amount of brave maudlinism to spend $800 on exterior lights and what a way to love Christmas.

5. Go to Target and buy some half-price Christmas mugs. Fill them with
individually wrapped teabags and take them to your favorite librarians. Say,
"Thanks."

6. Take the loaf of bread you bought last week and tear it up outside, on
the lawn. The birds will have Christmas Dinner on you.

Last Christmas, I took Meals on Wheels to one woman who had two weeks to
live. When I asked her what I could pray for, she said, "Pray I don't see
New Year's." She was speaking from a zilcho quality of life situation.
But, us guys, us'uns, we have an embarrassment of riches. And we desperately need to,
in this woulda-coulda-shoulda, mass consumerism explosion of
gimme-gimme-gimme Commercial Christmas, center ourselves and think
outward-outward-outward.

It'll be swell.


Janelle

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Why, oh, why does it hurt so much to end a relationship? The short answer is that we are socio-enculturated to believe in Big Love. "Love is the answer to everything." "Love is all you need." "Don’t you want somebody to love you?" It’s tough to buck the system, but it can be done.

There’s emotional work to do when you end a relationship, whether you’re the dumper or the dumpee. If you don’t do your homework, then you will repeat the situation over and over again until you do. There’s a lot of F.O.G. (Fear, Obligation, Guilt) in almost every relationship and F.O.G., even when it ends, takes a long time to work through.

My friend Karen, who counsels young women who are often in the turmoil of relationship woes, says that many young women work at Trying To Date Someone as hard as if they were working a second job. And here’s the news flash—it shouldn’t be that hard. If you have to work-work-work at the relationship, then maybe (gasp) it is not the best relationship for you.

And in the world according to “Designing Women’s” Suzanne Sugarbaker, “The answer to every problem a woman has is not ‘You need a date.’” There’s a lot of women that cringe when their friends say, “Maybe you’ll meet a man.”

AARP did a landmark study on older women and re-marriage and they found that older women don’t feel that they HAVE to remarry, or even date. Just about two years ago, the statistics on single households beat out the Ozzie-and-Harriet households. Women are on to a great and wonderful secret – We can make it without Prince Not-So-Charming.

And as my friend Alan says, “I’ve been unhappy and married and unhappy and single. And believe me, unhappy and single is much easier.”

Janelle

Knitting

Well, I'm knitting again. I found a skein of pretty, light-gray Wool-Ease at the Goodwill Store for 99 cents. It should be enough, with my stock of white wool, to make a nice wool beret for the bus stop this winter. I even know where my circular needles are, so it's Kismet.

If you haven't been to the Lion Brand website, you're missing a great deal. There's also a great knitting e-newsletter called "Knitting Daily."

Janelle

Black Friday

Black Friday, once again, went on without me. My idea of a good shopping day is a spare 20 dollar bill and a overly large thrift shop. I am, therefore, not one of the souls in line in front of the Circuit City, at 4 in the morning. For one thing, it's about 19 degrees above zero at 4 in the morning, here in The Frozen North (Motto: Why Get Warm When You Are Just Gonna Get Cold Again?).

But earlier, in my "I want to make everybody happy" days, I got talked into two Black Fridays with friends. I can still hear those women saying, "Oh, come on! It'll be fun."

The first Black Friday was at a big mall, and my shopping companion mainly wanted to eat her way through the food court. At some point, they just about ran out of food, and I got to go home.

The second Black Friday was at an even larger mall, and it became apparent that my shopping companion just wanted to window shop. And the logical, little nerdy Girl Scout part of me blurted out, "But if you aren't going to buy anything, why can't we just go home?" Then I was in for it.

I do like to shop. I just don't consider it a competitive sport.