Welcome to a New Adventure

 

It started like any other day when I'm traveling. Mackie sends me a text with a vacation idea, and I'm in for it. She's come up with so many good ideas over the years. This time, she’d set her sights on London. London! Home of Big Ben, the Queen (well, sort of), and that funny way of speaking English where they add a “u” to things. I wasn’t sure what we’d do there, but when Mackie has a plan, I follow.

It had been a long day of traveling—our bodies had no idea what time zone they were in. We’d left Michigan around 12:30 PM, had a marathon layover in Chicago where I may or may not have fallen asleep on an airport bench, and arrived in London the next day around 12:30 PM. I had become a time traveler, but not in the fun, Marty McFly way. This felt more like I’d been through a spin cycle and someone had hit “Extra Rinse.”

We checked into the Millennium Hotel near Gloucester Road Station yesterday afternoon. After tossing our bags on the bed and staring at them for a good ten minutes, we ventured out in search of supper and decided on Nando's down the street. 

A Portuguese restaurant called Nando's was just up the street and specializes in piri-piri chicken. The service and food were excellent. It was just what the doctor ordered.

The next morning, bright and early, we set out for a full day of sightseeing. Mackie had her itinerary lined up with military precision—no surprise there. First on the list: the Churchill War Rooms. Now, don’t get me wrong, I love a good underground bunker as much as the next guy, but after reading plaque number seventeen about Winston Churchill’s favorite cigars, my enthusiasm was starting to wane.

That’s when the weather decided to get involved. One minute, we were debating which typewriter Churchill’s secretary preferred, and the next, we were caught in what can only be described as a biblical downpour. And here’s the thing—no one warned me about London rain. I mean, I knew it rained a lot, but this was like the clouds had been holding a grudge for centuries and had finally decided to let loose. Mackie had an umbrellas, but it was about as useful as paper towels in a hurricane. My rain jacket, and I use that term loosely, was soaked through and through.

“Duck in here!” Mackie shouted over the roar of rain, pointing toward a building that looked like it had been there since Henry VIII was a bachelor. The sign hanging above the door read The Bag O'Nails Pub. We stumbled inside, dripping water onto the old wooden floor, and were immediately hit by the smell of damp wool sweaters and something vaguely resembling sausage.

We grabbed a table by the window with two other women, and I ordered drinks for us. As we tried to wring ourselves dry, a lady and her elderly mother took the table next to us. They looked equally drenched but in good spirits. After some polite introductions, we learned they were from Hungary, on a mother-daughter trip across Europe. The mother, a spry little woman with more energy than I’d had in decades, insisted that Mackie and I try palinka, a traditional Hungarian fruit brandy. Now, I’m no stranger to a good stiff drink, but this stuff could fuel a rocket to Mars. My throat burned for a solid ten minutes, but in a way that made me feel… alive.

After several laughs and promises to visit Budapest someday, we parted ways with our new friends and headed off toward Victoria Coach Station. Mackie had booked us an afternoon tea tour bus, which sounded like something out of an old British postcard—big red bus, fine china, and cucumber sandwiches. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but our shoes were squelching as we boarded the bus. A lovely woman in a hat that could only be described as “excessive” greeted us with the thickest British accent I’d ever heard.

The tour was fantastic, but my enthusiasm for dainty sandwiches soon faded after the third triangular piece of bread with a smidge of cream cheese. “Is there something meatier on the menu?” I asked Mackie, eyeing a pastry that was probably 90% air. She just smiled, sipping her tea.

As we cruised past Buckingham Palace and the Tower of London, I realized this trip, like all the others, was already shaping up to be unforgettable. Sure, I may not remember the exact details of Churchill’s office setup, but I’d never forget ducking into The Bag O’Nails with Mackie, meeting the Hungarian duo, and experiencing the soggy charm of London. Mackie’s vacation ideas never failed to surprise, and I had a feeling there were plenty more adventures to come.

Take Aways from London (But not London Take Aways)

What do I mean by that title? In short, the English language has a number of different meanings so let's take a look at some of the things I learned this week.

"Mind the gap" - "The next station is Gloucester Road", the ladies voice says. Then a mans voice chimes in, "Please mind the gap on the way to the platform". The gap refers to the space between the train and the boarding platform.  If one rides the tube in London, or a train in England, they will hear that at every stop...Usually.

"Way Out"

The "Way Out" is the exit from most anything, and it's always in green with a generic stick-figure person going that way

"See It, Say It, Sorted"

Another announcement made at every train prior to the tube stop we were on. "If you see something unusual, call the transit police and they will be waiting at the next station - See It, Say It, and it will get Sorted Out"

"Clotted Cream"

A term for one of the best butters I've ever had, and I grew up on a farm where we milked our own cows. I'm not sure what their cows eat, but it's pretty good stuff

"Take Away"

"Is this a Take Away"? We'd call this a to-go order in the states.

"Lift"

An elevator to Americans.

"Bins"

Another word for where to deposit one's trash.

That is just a short list of the many things that I've heard. I highly recommend you take take to explore your world. Just do it today. You can thank me later.

Midland Folk Music Festival

 

Summer is starting to wind down, and the sun has began its gentle descent over the rolling fields of the Midland, Michigan fairgrounds. I find myself grinning like a fool at the sheer improbability of it all. This was my third folk festival of the season, and while the previous two had been swarming with people like ants at a picnic, this one had a distinctly different vibe. The Midland Folk Festival is a hidden gem, not attended nearly as well as it deserved, but that just made it feel all the more like a secret treasure—one only the most discerning (or hopelessly lost) musicians know about.

Midland is a quaint town, nestled an hour and fifteen minutes north of our Michigan house. The drive was easy, with the late summer breeze ruffling the trees along the highway, making them wave like old friends. The fairgrounds themselves were nothing short of charming, with their neatly trimmed grass and a picturesque scattering of white tents that promised music around every corner. The place even had some surprisingly swanky restrooms and showers—luxuries unheard of at most festivals where a port-a-potty is considered a lucky find.

As I strolled past the main stage, a modest affair draped in bunting that had clearly seen better days, I marveled at the absurdity of the situation. Here we were, 500 musicians strong, gathered in this delightful, slightly out-of-the-way spot, ready to share our love of music. And yet, for reasons unknown, the crowds were sparse. It was as if the festival had been kept a secret from everyone except us musicians.

But that didn’t dampen the mood. In fact, it seemed to have the opposite effect. With fewer spectators to impress, we musicians felt free to let our hair down—figuratively for some, literally for others. The atmosphere was relaxed, almost familial. Everyone seemed to know everyone else, and if you didn’t, well, it wouldn’t stay that way for long.

I quickly ran into some old friends I’d met down in West Virginia at The Appalachians String Band Festival. It was one of those serendipitous reunions where you lock eyes across a crowd and burst into laughter because, really, what were the odds? We spent the better part of the afternoon reminiscing about past festivals, swapping tall tales of missed cues and impromptu jam sessions that had taken on legendary status over the years.

But it wasn’t just about reconnecting with old friends. The beauty of the Midland Folk Festival lay in the new connections waiting to be made. I found myself surrounded by a group of fellow dulcimer enthusiasts, some of whom I’d never met before, and within minutes, we were strumming away like we’d known each other for years. That’s the magic of these gatherings—music transcends introductions, and before you know it, you’re part of an impromptu band, harmonizing with strangers who become friends by the end of the first chorus.

The fairgrounds were alive with music. There were eight locations scattered about, each dedicated to different workshops—guitar, mandolin, fiddle, banjo, dulcimer—you name it. At one point, I wandered over to a dulcimer workshop just to see what the fuss was about. The instructor, a spry man in his seventies, was demonstrating how to coax the sweetest sounds out of the instrument, but not without a few self-deprecating jokes along the way. The whole group was in stitches, and I quickly realized that here, learning was just as much about laughter as it was about music.

On Friday evening a contra dance broke out. This was my first experience witnessing this. The band "Swollen Fingers" belted out a number of old time tunes to the joy of the dancers. 

A contra dance is a lively, community-oriented social dance rooted in the folk traditions. It's a partner dance where couples form two long lines facing each other, with each couple interacting with the couples next to them as the dance progresses. The overall vibe is fun, welcoming, and full of energy, making it a favorite for dancers of all ages and experience levels.

As the evening wore on and the sun dipped lower, the crowd—such as it was—gathered for a final jam session. The air was thick with the sounds of strings and laughter, blending together in a way that only happens at festivals like this. Midland may not have drawn the biggest crowd, but what it lacked in numbers, it made up for in heart. And as I played my last note of the night, surrounded by old friends, new friends, and a whole lot of good music, I knew one thing for sure: I’d be back next year, come rain or shine, for another dose of Midland magic.

photo from: https://tacomacontradance.org/about-contra/

My Appalachian String Band Festival Experience

 

The Appalachian String Band Festival held annually at Camp George Washington Carver in Clifftop, West Virginia, is a celebration of old-time music that draws musicians and enthusiasts from across the country. Nestled in the heart of the Appalachian Mountains, this event is more than just a festival; it’s a gathering of kindred spirits who share a deep love for traditional American music. It's also within 50 miles of where I went to school in most of my elementary years, and my sophomore and junior years in high school.

The drive to Clifftop is a journey through the rugged beauty of the Appalachian landscape. Winding roads take you through dense forests, past rolling hills, and alongside crystal-clear streams. As you get closer to the camp, the air seems to hum with anticipation, as if the mountains themselves are welcoming you to the celebration.

Camp George Washington Carver, where the festival is held, is a historic site with a rich cultural heritage. Established as a 4-H camp for African American youth in the 1930s, it has since become a hub for preserving and celebrating Appalachian culture. The camp’s rustic cabins and communal spaces are surrounded by towering trees and the gentle slopes of the mountains, creating a perfect backdrop for the music that fills the air day and night.

Upon arriving at Clifftop, the first thing that strikes you is the sound. The air is alive with the tunes of fiddles, banjos, guitars, mandolins, and, of course, the mountain dulcimer. Musicians of all ages gather in informal jam sessions that spring up everywhere you look—under the shade of a tree, on a porch, or around a campfire. There’s no formal stage here; the entire camp is a stage, and everyone is welcome to join in the music-making.

My mountain dulcimer, with its sweet, resonant tones, fits perfectly into this environment. I found myself gravitating toward groups that welcomed the unique voice of my instrument. As night fell, the music didn’t stop—it only grew more intense. Under a sky filled with stars, we played until the wee hours of the morning, the sound of our instruments blending together into a harmonious symphony that echoed through the night.

The camaraderie at Clifftop is something special. In those late-night sessions, I was joined by musicians from all walks of life—some professional, some hobbyists, all united by a shared passion for old-time music. Guitars strummed steady rhythms, mandolins added their bright, sharp notes, and fiddles played melodies that seemed to have been pulled from the very heart of the mountains. The dulcimer, with its distinctive voice, added a layer of depth to the music that was both haunting and beautiful.

There’s something magical about playing music in the Appalachian Mountains. The landscape seems to inspire the tunes, and the tunes, in turn, seem to resonate with the land. As we played, I couldn’t help but feel a deep connection to the musicians who have come before us, those who created and passed down these tunes over generations. It’s a living tradition, and at Clifftop, it’s very much alive.

The festival isn’t just about the music, though. It’s also about community. Everywhere you go, you’re greeted with smiles and friendly conversation. The campgrounds are filled with people sharing stories, trading tips on playing techniques, and just enjoying each other’s company. Meals are communal, and there’s always a pot of coffee brewing somewhere, ready to fuel another round of tunes.

As the festival came to a close, I felt a sense of contentment that comes from being part of something bigger than myself. The Appalachian String Band Festival at Clifftop is more than just a place to play music; it’s a place to connect—with the music, with the land, and with each other. As I packed up my dulcimer and prepared to leave, I knew I’d be back. The music of the mountains had found a permanent place in my heart, and Clifftop would always be a part of that.

photo from: https://wvculture.org/explore/camp-washington-carver/string-band-music-festival/

Telephones...Or Whatever That Thing is I Carry

 

It’s overcast and a bit breezy this morning in Clifftop, West Virginia. My phone tells me that it’s 68 degrees, but my phone tells me a lot of things. I wonder about that.

My earliest vision of a telephone was one hanging in my grandparents' kitchen. It was black and had a rotary dial. Come to think of it, I believe every phone I saw was black at that time. It was a marvel of its day, a direct line to the outside world, neatly fixed to the wall, and always within reach when needed. The rotary dial clicked and whirred as you turned it, each digit a deliberate step toward connecting with someone far away.

I recall reading the Sunday morning Dick Tracy comics. He wore a watch that doubled as a video phone. My wife has one of those on her wrist, and our son does a video call with us to watch our granddaughter, Dot, crawl across the floor.

Fast forward to today, and my phone is so much more than a device for making calls. My phone tells me the time; it’s my clock, my stopwatch, my egg timer. It’s my personal assistant, letting me "Google"—yes, it’s a verb now—an endless supply of information from the World Wide Web, whether it’s true or not. It’s my translator, making my Star Trek dreams come true, allowing me to communicate with anyone in their native tongue.

My phone keeps my calendar, which I can share with others and even let them add events to. It carries maps of the world and provides turn-by-turn directions to anywhere I want to go. It’s my camera, capable of capturing an endless supply of photos and videos of the world around me.

It’s also a television, streaming movies, shows, and short videos from this thing called the cloud (which, despite its name, has nothing to do with the weather). My phone is my stereo, playing music from satellites orbiting above us, and it connects wirelessly to Bluetooth earbuds or speakers.

Remarkably, my phone has become a wallet too. I can pay for things with a tap, using money that seems to float in the air. It even holds digital copies of my driver's license and insurance card, handy if I ever get stopped by the police.

Thinking about all this, I can't help but wonder: Is my phone really a phone anymore? It has evolved into something so much more, a multi-functional device that connects me to the world in ways that were once the stuff of science fiction.

And the Heavens Opened Up

 

It was a typical Tuesday morning at the Appalachian String Band Music Festival, the kind of day when the only thing more unpredictable than the music was the weather. As the morning sun peeked over the mountaintop, vendors set up their stands, and campers wiped the sleep from their eyes, an ominous cloud began to creep across the sky. By 8:30, just as folks were finishing their breakfast biscuits, the heavens opened up and delivered a downpour so heavy it seemed as if the mountain itself was taking a shower.

The rain came down in sheets, drenching everything and everyone in its path. Umbrellas popped open like wildflowers, tarps flapped, and people went on their way despite the wind and rain. Despite the deluge, there was an undeniable sense of excitement in the air, as if everyone knew they were in for one heck of a story to tell back home. It wasn't long before the ground turned into a muddy dance floor, perfect for a little spontaneous splashing and sliding.

Under our canopy, a motley crew of musicians gathered, determined to keep the spirit of the festival alive. There was me, with my trusty dulcimer, and two fiddle players who looked like they had walked straight out of a 19th-century barn dance. A banjo player, whose instrument seemed more waterproof than the rest of us, was already tuning up, and a guitar player sat on a folding chair, ready to strum away. Our instruments may have been as wet as a cat in a rainstorm, but our spirits were as high as the mountain top.

As we struck up our first tune, the sound of "Old Joe Clark" filled the air. The fiddlers' bows danced across the strings, the banjo plinked happily, and the guitar's warm chords provided a solid foundation. My dulcimer rang out sweetly, despite the occasional raindrop that splashed onto the strings. We played through a medley of lively fiddle tunes, all in the key of G (it’s a banjo thing), which seemed to resonate with the sound of the raindrops.

The crowd gathered round the tent, some standing in their rain-soaked clothes. Instead of frowns and grumbles, there were laughter and cheers. A few brave souls danced in the mud, their bare feet squelching with every step. Kids jumped in puddles, creating little geysers of water that mirrored the joy on their faces. It was clear that a little rain wasn't going to dampen the festival spirit.

Between songs, the banjo player shared a joke that had everyone roaring with laughter. "You know what happens when you drop a banjo down a well?" he asked, pausing for effect. "You get a D-tuner!" It was a classic, and in the moment, it was the perfect icebreaker.

We played on, the music mingling with the sound of rain on canvas and the occasional roll of thunder in the distance. The tunes ranged from fast-paced reels to slow, haunting ballads, each one met with applause and shouts of appreciation. As we wrapped up with "Barlow Knife," the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds, casting a golden glow over the soggy scene.

The rain may have soaked our clothes and muddied our feet, but it couldn't wash away the joy and camaraderie that filled the festival. As we packed up our instruments, someone shouted, "Let's do it all again tomorrow, rain or shine!" And that was the spirit of the Appalachian String Festival—come what may, the music and the fun would go on.

So, we left the stage, dripping but happy, ready to dry off and swap stories about the unforgettable Tuesday when the rain tried to steal the show, but the music and laughter won the day. It was a day to remember, a day when even the wettest of festivals proved that a little water couldn't put out the fire of good music and good company.

On the Road to Clifftop

The journey to Clifftop, West Virginia, feels like stepping into a time capsule. As the truck wound its way through the serpentine roads, memories of my childhood in the 1970s flooded back; these are the roads I learned how to drive on and gave me my first driver’s license. The landscape is timeless, a mosaic of rolling hills, dense forests, and the occasional clapboard house standing sentinel. The scent of pine mixed with the summer's warmth, and I felt the familiar thrill of returning to my roots. My father’s ancestral home is about 35-40 miles due north of here on Crites Mountain near Little Birch. 

Arriving at the site of the annual Appalachian String Band Festival at Camp Washington Carver, I was greeted by a vibrant tapestry of tents, scattered like wildflowers throughout the wooded glades. Each tent has its own story, some adorned with colorful flags, others modest and utilitarian, one had two skeletons dressed in fall clothing holding makeshift instruments, but all sharing a common purpose: to celebrate the rich heritage of Appalachian music and culture. The air was alive with the joyous sounds of fiddles, banjos, guitars, and dulcimers, harmonizing with the nocturnal insects that buzzed and chirped in the background. It was a symphony that transcended time, connecting generations through a shared love of music.

As dusk settled, the sky transformed into a canvas of stars, each one twinkling like a distant ember. The campgrounds were illuminated by the warm glow of solar lights (no fires are allowed here - West Virginia governor Jim Justice declared a statewide drought today), where small groups gathered, their laughter and chatter blending with the music. It was a magical scene, reminiscent of the star-filled nights of my youth, where the only entertainment was the company of friends and family along with the stories we spun.

At the heart of this gathering stands the iconic Camp Washington Carver lodge. Built in 1942, this historic structure was the first 4-H camp for African-American youth in the United States. Its construction was and is a monumental achievement, a testament to the resilience and dedication of the community. The lodge, made of locally sourced timber and stone, exude a rustic charm. Its large, inviting porch wrapped around the building, offering a perfect vantage point to take in the surrounding beauty.

Inside, the lodge is a warm and welcoming space, with wooden beams crisscrossing the high ceilings and a large stone fireplace dominating one wall. The floorboards creak with every step, telling tales of the countless feet that had walked them over the decades. Walls adorned with photographs and memorabilia paid homage to the camp's rich history and the many lives it had touched.

The lodge is not just a building; it is a symbol of the strength and unity of the community. Built during a time of segregation, it provided a space where African-American children could learn, grow, and connect with their heritage. Today, it stands as a reminder of the progress made and the importance of preserving cultural traditions.

As the night deepened, I joined a group of musicians on the lodge's porch. The music flowed effortlessly, each tune a thread in the rich tapestry of Appalachian folk traditions. I felt a deep connection to this place and these people, bound together by the shared rhythms of life. The stars above seemed to dance to the music, a celestial audience to our humble performance.

In that moment, under the canopy of stars, surrounded by the timeless music of the mountains, I feel a profound sense of belonging. The winding roads, the bustling tents, the lodge with its storied past—all of it converged into a singular experience of joy and nostalgia. The festival is not just an event; it is a homecoming for musicians and people far and wide. A celebration of roots and traditions that have withstood the test of time. 

It’s close to midnight as I write tonight, and the sounds of the musical jams continue. Eventually, they will lull me into a deep, peaceful rest, cradled by the mountains that I have always loved.

Here's some more information on the camp:

https://wvtourism.com/company/camp-washington-carver/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Camp_Washington-Carver_Complex

Welcome to Grandparenting 101: Meet Dot, Our Little Dynamo

Greetings, fellow adventurers in grandparenting! Mackie and I are overjoyed to introduce you to our seven-month-old granddaughter, Dorothy, or as we affectionately call her, Dot. She’s a tiny tornado of energy, curiosity, and joy, keeping us on our toes from sunrise to sunset. Here’s a peek into our journey of getting to know Dot and keeping her entertained in two-minute intervals.

The Dot Chronicles: Two-Minute Entertainment Extravaganza

Dot’s attention span is, well, let’s just say it’s like a goldfish on espresso. Every two minutes, she demands a new source of wonder and amusement. Mackie has become master improvisers, finding endless ways to keep her entertained. Here’s a rundown of our most successful tactics:

1. The Magic Spoon Show: It turns out, a simple kitchen spoon can become a wand, a drumstick, or even a microphone. Mackie and I have perfected our spoon duet, complete with silly faces and sound effects. Dot’s giggles are worth every ridiculous moment.

2. Peekaboo Marathon: Who knew that hiding behind a cushion and popping out with a “boo!” could be the height of comedy? Dot’s squeals of delight fuel our endless peekaboo sessions. We’ve even developed signature moves, like the “double peek” and the “surprise side peek.”

3. Toy Rotation Circus: Dot’s toy collection is a treasure trove of distractions. We rotate them every few minutes to keep the novelty alive. There’s Dorothy the Dinosaur, Leonard the Lion, and the ever-fascinating wooden rubber teether thing-a-ma-jig. The secret is in the element of surprise – pulling out a “new” toy from behind our backs is like a magic trick that never gets old.

4. Baby Dance Party: The living room has turned into a mini dance club. Mackie’s got the moves, and I’ve got the tunes. We dance to everything from nursery rhymes to classic rock. Dot’s favorite? The hokey pokey, of course. She wiggles, claps, and babbles along, making us feel like rockstar grandparents.

5. Nature Explorer Adventures: Taking Dot outside is a sensory extravaganza. We stroll through the garden, pointing out flowers, birds, and the occasional squirrel. Every leaf is a marvel, every breeze a thrill. It’s like seeing the world for the first time through her eyes.

Napping: The Elusive Quest

Now, about that nap… Dot’s energy seems boundless, but Mackie and I? Not so much. We’ve turned napping into an art form, squeezing in catnaps whenever possible. Our strategy? Take shifts. While one of us entertains Dot, the other sneaks in a quick snooze. We’ve even mastered the “grandparent lean” – a subtle rest while sitting upright. It’s all about survival, folks.

The Joy of Discovery

Despite the whirlwind of activity, the most rewarding part is watching Dot discover the world. Her eyes light up with every new experience, and her laughter is infectious. She’s teaching us to appreciate the small moments and find joy in the simplest things.

Lessons Learned and Laughs Shared

Grandparenting Dot has been a crash course in creativity, patience, and humor. We’ve learned that it’s okay to be silly, that every moment is precious, and that love comes in the form of endless games of peekaboo. It’s a rollercoaster ride we wouldn’t trade for anything.

So, to all the grandparents out there, embrace the chaos, cherish the giggles, and remember – when in doubt, just pull out a spoon and dance. Here’s to making memories, one two-minute block at a time.

Can One have Too Many Hobbies?

 So, you've finally retired. You thought you’d be lounging in a hammock, sipping lemonade, and finally getting around to that stack of books. But instead, you’re busier than a bee in a flower shop. Welcome to the world of having too many retirement hobbies! We've all heard the adage, "I don't know how I had time to work," and now you're living it. Let's dive into the chaos, shall we?

Card Game Conundrums

First up, card games. Who knew that rummy, canasta, pinocle, poker, and bridge could consume so much of your time? You used to play a friendly game now and then, but now it’s serious business. Your calendar is packed with game nights, strategy sessions, and the occasional spat over whether or not someone is cheating. Bridge, in particular, can get intense. The strategy, the suspense, the adult beverages—oh my! You need a nap just thinking about it.

Sporting Shenanigans

Next, let's talk sports. We have pickleball, tennis, shuffleboard, corn hole, and ping pong. Sure, you might be a bit overweight and more fake hips and knees than the six million dollar man. Then there's a few aches and pains, but that doesn't stop you from diving into these activities with the enthusiasm of a teenager. Thank God Algadones is a short drive from Yuma. Pickleball has become a retirement favorite, but who knew it involved so much running? And don't get me started on competitive lawn darts—the ones with the metal tips. It's like living on the edge, but without the cliff. Just be sure to watch your step, and maybe wear a helmet.

Green Thumb Madness

Gardening seems like a peaceful hobby, right? Wrong. It starts with a few pots of tomatoes and herbs, and before you know it, you're knee-deep in compost, battling weeds like a gladiator. Every trip to the garden center turns into an epic adventure. Need a new trowel? Better clear your afternoon. And let’s not forget about the garden gnome collection that seems to be multiplying faster than the weeds. It's a jungle out there.

The Foodie Frenzy

Becoming a foodie is another popular retirement pastime. You start with a simple interest in cooking and eating well. Next thing you know, you're attending cooking classes, hosting elaborate dinner parties, and embarking on culinary tours. Your pantry is now a gourmet haven, and your friends are starting to suspect you're auditioning for a cooking show. Don’t even think about showing up to the senior potluck without your famous quinoa salad.

Then we've got Saturday breakfast in our ballroom, lunch on the patio listening to our local celebrity bands, and the monthly spaghetti feed is always a big hit.

The Arts and Crafts Avalanche

Arts and crafts can be a delightful way to spend your time, but it's easy to get carried away. One moment, you're knitting a scarf, and the next, you’re up to your elbows in yarn, glue, and glitter. Your home resembles an art supply store, and you're contemplating taking up pottery, because why not? The craft store employees know you by name, and you’ve seriously considered converting your garage into an art studio.

Musical Mayhem

Remember that old guitar in the attic? Well, now that you have time, you decide to give it a go. Fast forward a few months, and you've joined a seniors’ rock band. Rehearsals, gigs, and trying to remember the chords—it’s a full-time job. And if you're not in a band, maybe you’re part of the community choir. Those weekly practices and performances keep you hopping, and let’s not forget the karaoke nights. Yes, you’ve got the moves like Jagger.

Travel Adventures

Then there’s travel. With all these senior discounts and travel clubs, you’re rarely at home. From cruises to cross-country road trips, you're always packing and unpacking. National parks, historic sites, and exotic destinations fill your itinerary. Your friends joke that you should start a travel blog, but who has the time?

Embrace the Chaos

Retirement is a time of boundless opportunities and, apparently, endless activities. The days of lounging are long gone, replaced by a whirlwind of hobbies and adventures. You thought you’d be bored, but now you’re busier than ever, and loving every minute of it. So embrace the chaos, relish the variety, and keep those hobbies coming. After all, you’ve earned it.

Senior Discounts: The Secret Perk of Aging

Retirement is that wonderful time when you get to enjoy life at a leisurely pace, spend more time with grandkids, and, most importantly, take full advantage of senior discounts. If you're not making the most of these perks, you're missing out on a world of savings. Here’s your ultimate guide to snagging the best deals and having a blast while you do it.

Taco Tuesday

Let's start with Taco Tuesday. If you find yourself in Yuma, Arizona, make a beeline for Del Taco. With senior discounts and their famous Taco Tuesday specials, you can feast like a king without breaking the bank. Or better yet. Head over to Westwind Bar & Grill, where you can enjoy soft or crunchy flour or corn tacos from 3 PM to 8 PM every Tuesday. And drinks are half price before 5! Chicken or beef are $1.50 each and shrimp go for $3.00. I'm hungry already.

Golden Corral: The Early Bird Bonanza

Next up, the Golden Corral Early Bird Special. Picture this: a delightful dinner spread with all your favorites. The best part? Watching savvy senior ladies stroll in with those extra-large purses. Fried chicken? Check. Mashed potatoes? Check. Enough napkins to last a lifetime? Double check. It’s not just a meal; it’s a strategy session for maximizing your take-home goodies.

Thrift Store Thursdays

On Thursdays, Goodwill becomes the hotspot for thrifty seniors. With a 20% discount, you can update your wardrobe, find that perfect knick-knack, or simply enjoy the thrill of the hunt. Pro tip: Show up early to snag the best deals before the rest of the savvy seniors beat you to it.

Fry’s Grocery Delight

Every first Wednesday of the month, Fry's Food Stores roll out the red carpet for seniors with a 10% discount. It’s the perfect time to stock up on all your essentials and maybe even treat yourself to something special. Don't forget the shopping cart derby on aisle 5 that starts at 4:10. Who knew grocery shopping could be so exhilarating?

Entertainment on a Dime

Now, let’s talk entertainment. Many theaters offer senior discounts on movies, but watch out for the popcorn —it’s a sneaky way to eat into your savings. But don’t fret; you can still enjoy the latest blockbuster without going broke. And for those cultural days, check out the local free museums. It’s a fantastic way to spend an afternoon learning something new without spending a dime. Or, take a walk in the park and gaze at the beautiful landscape and those pigeons... Bonus points for getting some exercise too. Just be careful of which bench you take a nap at.

Travel Perks and Silver Sneakers

When it comes to travel, the National Park Service Senior Lifetime Pass is a game-changer. For a one-time fee, you get access to all national parks for life. Talk about a ticket to adventure! Plus, many hotels offer senior discounts, so you can rest easy without worrying about the cost.

And let’s not forget about staying active. Medicare benefits like Silver Sneakers give you access to countless gyms and fitness programs. So, whether you’re a yoga enthusiast or prefer water aerobics, there’s something for everyone.

Embrace the Discount Life

Being a senior has its perks, and senior discounts are just the tip of the iceberg. From Taco Tuesdays and thrift store treasures to movie deals and national park passes, there’s a whole world of savings out there. So, grab your largest purse, your grocery list, and your sense of adventure, and start living large on less. After all, you’ve earned it!

The Art of Napping

Naps not just for toddlers and lazy cats anymore. No, no. Napping is an exquisite art form, a vital component of a balanced lifestyle, and, if done right, the perfect excuse to avoid doing anything remotely productive. However, new retirees have many questions that I'll help you. We'll explore how to prepare for it, the ideal nap times, the frequency of naps, the role of dreams, and whether snacks or beverages should be involved...

Preparation: The Nap Ritual

Preparation is key to a successful nap. First, create the perfect nap environment. Your bed is an obvious choice, but don't underestimate the power of a comfy couch, a recliner, or even a strategically placed hammock. The goal is to find a spot where you won’t be disturbed by children, pets, or the neighbor's overly enthusiastic leaf blower.

Next, attire. You need to dress the part. Pajamas are ideal, but in a pinch, sweatpants and an old T-shirt will do. Avoid anything with buttons, zippers, or any semblance of structure. Think soft, think fluffy, think "I just rolled out of bed, but I'm ready to roll back in."

When to Nap: Timing is Everything

The best time to nap is whenever you can get away with it. However, experts suggest early afternoon, around 1 to 3 PM, as the prime nap window. This is when your body naturally experiences a dip in energy, making it the perfect time to sneak in some shut-eye. Plus, it’s post-lunch, so you’ve already ticked off a significant daily accomplishment: eating.

Frequency: How Often Should One Nap?

How often should you nap? As often as humanly possible, of course! But if you’re looking for a more structured approach, aim for one nap a day. This keeps you refreshed without turning you into a nocturnal creature who roams the house at 3 AM, wondering why infomercials are still a thing.

Dreaming: To Dream or Not to Dream

Dreaming during naps can be a delightful bonus. Short naps (20-30 minutes) usually don't allow you to hit the dream phase, but they do leave you feeling refreshed and ready to face the world. Longer naps (60-90 minutes) can plunge you into the dream realm, which is fun until you wake up mid-dream, convinced that the toaster is plotting against you.

Snacks and Beverages: To Munch or Not to Munch

The great debate: should one indulge in snacks or beverages before napping? The answer is a resounding yes! But with caution. A light snack can help stave off hunger pangs that might interrupt your nap. Think small: a banana, a handful of nuts, or a slice of cheese. Avoid heavy, greasy foods unless you enjoy napping with the distinct possibility of waking up to heartburn.

As for beverages, steer clear of anything caffeinated unless your idea of a nap is staring at the ceiling, wide-eyed, wondering why you ever thought an espresso was a good idea. Opt for a beer, shot of whiskey, water, herbal tea, or, if you're feeling fancy, a warm glass of milk.

The Clifton Nap Flowchart

1. Feel Tired? If yes, proceed to Step 2. If no, take a nap anyway; you'll be tired soon enough.
2. Find a Spot: Bed, couch, hammock—whatever works.
3. Dress Down: Get into your comfiest clothes.
4. Snack Attack: Light snack, party beverage optional
5. Set an Alarm: Unless you want to wake up three hours later wondering what year it is.
6. Nap Time: Close your eyes and drift into sweet oblivion.

Napping is not just a necessity; it’s an art form. With the right preparation, timing, frequency, and a light snack, you can master the nap and turn it into the most delightful part of your day. So, go forth and nap, my friends. The world will be just fine without you for an hour or so.

Retirement Adventures

Retirement is like graduating from a lifelong job, but instead of a diploma, you get the freedom to do absolutely anything you want. And guess what? The options are endless, entertaining, and sometimes downright hilarious. Here’s a look at some fantastic retirement living options that Mackie and I tried or thought about that will keep you loving and living your best golden years!

Living the Southwest Dream

Imagine waking up to the serene beauty of desert landscapes, where every cactus is your neighbor and every sunset looks like a masterpiece painted by the gods. Living in the Southwest offers retirees a unique blend of tranquility and adventure. From Arizona’s breathtaking Grand Canyon to New Mexico’s artistic Santa Fe, the Southwest has something for every retiree. Just remember to keep a bottle of water handy—hydration is key when you’re chasing those desert dreams!

Florida: The Classic Choice for Snowbirds

Ah, Florida—the land of perpetual sunshine, beaches, and a retirement community on every corner. Whether you're playing shuffleboard in Sarasota or dodging alligators on a golf course in Naples, Florida is a retiree’s playground. The state offers an endless summer vibe, perfect for those who want to trade snow shovels for sandcastles. And with theme parks like Disney World and Universal Studios, your grandkids will think you’re the coolest grandparents ever!

RV Life: The Ultimate Road Trip

For those with wanderlust in their hearts, traveling in a motorhome is the epitome of retirement freedom. Imagine having a new backyard every day, from the rolling hills of Kentucky to the rugged coastline of Oregon. Part-time RV travel is gaining popularity, allowing retirees to explore without giving up the comforts of home. Just make sure you’ve got your RV driving skills down—nothing ruins a road trip like getting stuck in reverse in a Walmart parking lot.

Viva Mexico!

Why not retire where every day feels like a fiesta? Mexico offers affordable living, vibrant culture, and the best tacos you’ve ever had. Coastal towns like Puerto Vallarta and Playa del Carmen are popular among expats for their beautiful beaches and friendly locals. Plus, your retirement savings will stretch further, leaving you more pesos for margaritas and mariachi bands.

Unique Job Opportunities for the Adventurous Senior

Retirement doesn’t have to mean the end of working—just working on your own terms. Here are some quirky job options to consider:

1. Artist Relocation Program: Think Witness Protection Program for Artists. Paducah, Kentucky offers incentives for artists. You get to create, and the town gets a cultural boost. It’s a win-win!

2. Beat Harvest Worker: Channel your inner farmer and help with the sugar beet harvest. It’s hard work but offers a short-term, high-pay gig that gets you outdoors.

3. Oil Field Gate Guarding: Live on-site in your RV and guard the entrance to oil fields. It’s a job with a unique blend of solitude and responsibility. Plus, think of the stories you’ll have!

4. Camp Host: If you love the great outdoors, being a camp host is perfect. You get a free campsite in exchange for helping other campers and maintaining the grounds. It’s like being the mayor of a tiny, temporary village.

5. Seasonal Retail Worker: From helping out in a Christmas tree lot to working in a ski resort gift shop, seasonal jobs keep you busy and bring in some extra holiday cash.

Opportunities Await!

Retirement is your time to shine, explore, and maybe even find a new calling. Whether you choose to bask in the Florida sun, roam the Southwest deserts, travel the country in an RV, or immerse yourself in the vibrant culture of Mexico, there’s a retirement adventure waiting for you. And remember, every quirky job and new experience adds a hilarious chapter to your retirement story. So, here’s to the best years of your life—may they be filled with laughter, love, and endless adventures!

Ah...SeaTac Airport

 

Ah, the adventures of SeaTac airport—a mix of chaos, coffee, and the occasional tantrum, mostly entitled adults. Buckle up for my journey through the trials of dropping off rental cars, navigating TSA, surviving irate people, and braving overpriced coffee, all while wondering if my flight to Phoenix will leave on time. 

1. Rental Car Return: Ever tried to drop off a rental car at SeaTac? It's like entering a labyrinth. You navigate through the rental car shuttle maze, hoping not to miss your drop-off stop while praying the car’s GPS doesn’t decide to take me on a detour. I won’t even go into the standing-room only bus to get to the north terminal. 

2. TSA Shenanigans: TSA at SeaTac is a game of "how well can you pack your carry-ons?" Forget Tetris; this is the real challenge. I watch in awe as people try to smuggle giant bottles of shampoo and the world's largest jar of peanut butter through security, causing delays longer than the wait for your morning coffee. 

3. Little Rascals (Irate Children): Ah, the joys of travel with kids. At SeaTac, one witnesses the spectacle of tiny humans expressing their feelings about the early morning flight they never wanted to take. It seems everyone at gate N11 has a similar tale. Pro tip: bribe them with promises of airport snacks to avoid a public meltdown. 

4. Coffee Dilemma: Speaking of snacks, SeaTac boasts coffee that's worth its weight in gold. Prepare to part ways with a Hamilton for a cup of Joe that may or may notes jumpstart your day faster than your flight boarding. 

5. Flight to Phoenix—Myth or Reality: As one sips an overpriced brew and watches the departure board, I ponder one of life's greatest questions: will my plane to Phoenix leave on time, or will I spend more quality time exploring SeaTac's charming terminals? 

Surviving SeaTac is an art form—a delicate dance between patience, caffeine consumption, and child negotiation skills. Embrace the chaos, laugh at the absurdity, and remember that no matter how long it takes to get through TSA, there's always a story to tell at the gate.