I was more than a little anxious about how I would adjust to retirement after 55+ years in the work force—the majority of that time not at all unpleasant, many of those years exciting, invigorating, challenging; some even decently paid. And then, a few months ago, it was over. Done. Fini. Made it just under the line, before I became Joe-Biden-level-befuddled. (Or so I’m imagining?) Anyway, turns out I’m thrilled with the whole thing and here’s what’s making it all okay…

To celebrate I went to Austin to hang out with my most delightful granddaughter and her equally agreeable partner (nearly-husband—but that makes them sound so grown-up, serious…will future visits be as much fun? Will we have to discuss the best quality lawnmowers and the price of eggs in China and tax cuts and cruises and….well, real married people stuff?) Instead of apocalypses and books and trips to far countries. Anyway, here we are now, and it’s good.

In January, 2025, Teresa and Jon will be married in Busuanga, Palawan, Philippines. Then they’ll return to Austin for a couple of years while Jon completes his doctorate, working with robotics and AI and Renaissance poetry (I made that last one up), with the eventual goal of taking over the universe, or perhaps a small island in Lake Superior when the rest of North America is underwater or droughted out.

FROM AUSTIN BACK HOME TO ALBUQUERQUE: Robert and Marsha stopped by for a sleepover and few cups of coffee on their way home to Minnesota from their also-home in Arizona, where they’ve lived for close to a year before they sold because … that is what they do for fun. Other old people go to the Senior Center and play cards or to Elks Club Bingo night or Country Kitchen’s early-bird buffet OR, as their mothers both told them… to church. NOT Robert and Marsha, they travel the southlands, occasionally buying a house in a new warm year-round paradise—which they put lots of work into before they decide they really don’t like the place at all, and sell, usually not for a profit. Then they head home to real-home, Minnesota, by way of their settled-unhappily-in-the-blast-of-New Mexico-sun sister. It is their way of staying young and exciting.

Between all of the active stuff, there are books. Murder shows. Other countries with often better-than-our political events to pore over. Sometimes I do the laundry or go to the grocery store. And there are friends here or there that add a nice life bonus. Sometimes, son Steven takes me for a ride in his racer Mustang car. He’s had it many years—I’ve actually never ridden in it because he loves nothing better than to frighten me, of course (the job of sons apparently) and besides, I was always afraid I might drool on the dash or leave an old gray hair on the pristine leather seats.

Here’s an example of a lovely friend event that happened this summer. Many years ago, in the before-times, I worked for New Mexico state government in Santa Fe. One of my workmates was an interesting young man named Musomi. Since we both lived in Albuquerque and neither of us made a whole of money, we shared the commute in one of our old beat-up vehicles—at least I know that describes mine, and I’m pretty sure Musomi had the same type of classy wheels. We both have a fond memory of running out of gas one day, and a kindly truck driver stopping and putting enough gas in, whichever vehicle it was, for us to get to work. Ah yes, those were indeed the days!

I have other nice memories, like the chocolate cookies, I am remembering we both baked, and spent more than a few miles of our commute trying to figure out how to start a cookie business to get a little richer than our current jobs were making us. Since our knowledge of corporate financing was zero, all those other cookie places beat us to the punch, and here we are, still not wealthy.

Shirley, Musomi’s wife, was wrestling with their young children, as I was with my slightly older sons and life as a single mom. But we shared lasagna recipes and, with Musomi on his way to becoming a full-fledged pastor, we were certainly engaged in our lives and world.

In June, Shirley, Musomi, and their daughter, Mariama, stopped by for a talk-filled brunch, and it was so very fine to spend a few hours with both memories and present doings. You know, one of the very happiest things for me at this stage of my life is to reconnect with people who have been special to me at some point in my life, and to realize I still feel exactly the same way about them. Shirley and Musomi’s presence is still warm, comfortable, interesting, and like we just saw each other last month, even if it’s been some years.

I finally visited Luna’s new house, where she lives with her devoted servant, Patricia. It’s small but feels surprisingly roomy with high ceilings and a couple of nice windows. The critical element is that Luna has a fine viewing area from which to keep track of any suspicious activities in the ‘hood.

And of course, there has to be a last, but not least, event. Daughter-in-law Michele’s birthday came around, and since her family is great about food-filled get-togethers, I thought I should try that in her honor. It was nice, although I feel that my ‘gathering’ skills are slipping. They’ve always been a bit slap-dash but not without my ability to get a variety of mostly-good dishes out and efforts to be somewhat hospitable lasting throughout.

Now, I have the perfect ending for this for this catch-up on family events newsletter. The food at the party. Pat, Michele’s mom (with a remarkable stroke recovery in hand) brought delicious macaroni salad and Steven made his super-tasty spinach/cheese and other-fine-ingredients omelet.

To top it off I made the most extraordinary yellow cake with chocolate icing—Michele’s favorite. I searched on line for just the right recipes with a little something different or more complicated in each. For example, chocolate FUDGE icing, not that wimpy chocolate buttercream stuff.

A couple of little things went wrong. The 3-layers of what is the tastiest cake dough ever, all collapsed in the middle. Yup, all layers. Cratered. And while the taste was quite fine, they had the texture of a big cleaning sponge, full of holes and tough. The frosting was honestly amazing and sleekly beautiful, but so full of flavor (with over a cup of unsweetened cocoa plus ½ package of chocolate chip) that it was like a shot of the strongest coffee imaginable or of straight booze or turpentine or something—well, perhaps not turpentine).

Fortunately, Patricia, the family artist was here and she made that one-of-a-kind cake into a thing of beauty.

The second half of an exceptionally exciting year lies just ahead. Visiting son, travel to places near and far, an election to end all elections, I say, tongue only partially in cheek. And great good luck to us, one and all.