The last seven days living downtown proved to be just as expensive the first week – and just as much fun. I have no routine right now and I don’t expect to find one in the time left. Not really a surprise. It takes much longer to develop habits.

The days have started to blur into one another, but that’s not a bad thing. I feel like I’m talking and socializing more. I could be imagining it, but I think I’m interacting with the people I encounter in a different way than I do when I’m in my suburban neighborhood. But it’s hard to be objective because the experience is still so novel.

A friend that I used to work with lives a couple of miles away, so she walked down here and we spent the day going to the farmer’s market and chatting the afternoon away. Another couple we know has a son, who lives with his family three blocks from us. So our friends came for appetizers, we went out to a favorite place for dinner and then visited the son for a little whiskey.

Yesterday afternoon, I walked to a bookstore I’d been wanting to check out. My husband met me there after work and we went to a restaurant that was also on my list of places to try before our month here is over. My days are filled with little odds and ends: a quick lunch with a friend getting Botox in town, or a haircut. Right now, everyone is curious to see what we are up to. Would a permanent move mean fewer visits?

Our stats living here so far:
Dining/Drinking/Coffees Out: $748
Entertainment: $222
Groceries: $159*
Babysitting: 2
Avg Steps/Day: 10,687
Museum Memberships Purchased: 1
Museums Visited: 3
Books Read: 1

*I stopped keeping track of groceries after the first week.

The post Week 2: Downtown Sacramento Staycation appeared first on Two Drinks Away.

Last week, we moved into an Airbnb just 25 miles from our neighborhood. No, we are not doing renovations, nor do we have any other reason why we had to leave our house in the suburbs.

The Empty Nest

With the kids all grown and flown and retirement on the horizon, we’re trying to figure out where we want to spend the rest of our lives. Our house is kind of big for just the two of us, and all that maintenance is getting to be a drag. Downsizing makes sense.

That said, after all these years, we’ve made our home a comfortable spot for entertaining. We’re proud of our beautiful backyard and love how we’ve got room for all the kids to come home with their families.

If we were to downsize, it makes sense to move into a city and get a condo so we don’t have that yard to maintain anymore, but we’d also then be giving up the space to host those happy family gatherings.

You might think it’s a waste of money to rent a place for a month so close to home. But we’ve been intrigued with the idea of moving to the city. So trying on the lifestyle for a month was exactly what we needed.

Our Move to the City

Sacramento has grown up from the sleepy little town I first encountered when I moved to the region 35 years ago. It’s become a comfortable, charming and easy-to-navigate city. My husband works across the street from the state Capitol. We know the city fairly well, as my now-deceased parents lived for a decade in a downtown condo here and our daughter, son-in-law, and only grandchild live about two miles south.

We originally looked into renting a city apartment for a 6-month trial. It was tempting. However, we realized that only one of our two geriatric cats would likely take the move in stride. And then we added up the tab: $3,000 a month for a one-bedroom apartment and all the associated costs. Hmmmm, we thought. How many vacations can we take on $18,000?

And then our son let us know that he and his wife, who live in Austin, wanted to take their remote jobs to our house for the summer to skip the Austin weather. He misses our California mountains. Could he and I live together again for that long? We have a good relationship, but this was a real concern.

My husband and I talked about vacationing for a month to Mexico, where he could take a Spanish-immersion course. We have friends in San Miguel de Allende which is a beautiful place to visit (seriously, check it out sometime).

How We’re Doing

Taking a month off of work is a challenge, so the thinking transitioned to “hey, let’s just live in Sacramento for a month!” We know someone with a couple of short-term rentals and here we are! We’ve just finished our first full seven days.

Husband is walking to each morning, rather than working remotely as he generally has the past 2.5 years. I think he’s happy to be back in the office, although it sounds a bit lonely. Every day is unique for me as I try out different activities available to me here.

It’s been fun so far and we probably need more than a month to know if it’s the right move for us. I’ll post another update in a week.

Our stats living here so far:
Dining/Drinking/Coffees Out: $396
Entertainment: $23
Groceries: $159*
Babysitting: 1
Avg Steps/Day: 11,838
Museum Memberships Purchased: 1

*Don’t ask me why this amount is so high since we’ve hardly cooked. We also brought some items from home.

The post Summer in the City: Staycation – Or Permanent Lifestyle Change? appeared first on Two Drinks Away.

One habit my husband has that drives me nuts is when he works to get the backyard ready for our guests in the middle of winter when no one will be stepping into the backyard. Why does he do this? Why?

The need to clean the house may be the number one reason I may NOT invite people over. A lot of us are very intimidated and concerned about what people will think of us and our housekeeping. It’s really a sad thing to waste our time worrying about judgmental friends and family, but that’s human nature. But let’s say we are having some friends over for a casual dinner and I do want to clean things up a bit. Here’s what I do. I realize for the organized and generally tidy people, this all sounds very basic, but I’m not talking to you superior folk:

Prioritize:

• Picking stuff up before bothering to clean. Getting rid of clutter goes a long way. Throw things in your bedroom if necessary and shut the door.

• Clean the bathrooms. Dirty bathrooms go a long, undesirable way.

• Balance the cooking with the cleaning. This is a bit of an art form, depending on how dirty (or how much cooking) you have to do.

• If you have done what needs to be done to allow people into the house, and you have completed your prep work for whatever food is being served, and you actually feel motivated, then go ahead and clean a little more if you feel like it. Hahahaha… just kidding. Who feels like it?

Rules:

• Do not touch any part of the house that people will not see.

• Prioritize which part of the house gets picked up/cleaned based on amount of time people will likely be hanging in there.

• Don’t wash the floors unless they are disgusting. Same with dusting.

Now, go relax and enjoy your guests. If you have fun, they will also have a good time.

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Carpe Diem: Visit a National Park

In the surest sign that we are beginning to turn a corner on COVID, the CDC last week issued travel guidance for Americans who have been fully vaccinated: We are free to travel. However, the pandemic is most definitely not over, so we are urged to continue to wear masks and observe social distancing protocols in public.

So it’s probably not the time to attend a big event in a hotel ballroom, or to go bar hopping in a new city.

What we’re thinking is that this month would be a great opportunity to visit one of our wonderful National Parks, where you can enjoy the beauty of the outdoors.

With Linda in Northern California and Donna in LA, a perfect point between us is Yosemite National Park. A few years ago we met in the middle there to celebrate Donna’s 25th wedding anniversary.

At this time, you no longer need a reservation to enter the park, but parts of it are still closed due to both winter weather and COVID, so if you plan a trip, do check the website first. Only one campground is open at this writing, but the famous (and expensive) Ahwahnee Hotel is operating, as well as the Yosemite Valley Lodge. When we visited, we stayed about 30 minutes outside the park at the Tenaya Lodge.

And if you have hit the magical age of 62, one of the best things about the National Parks is that they offer special passes that will allow you free admission to every park in the system. A one-year pass will cost you $20. For $80, you can obtain a lifetime pass that will get you into every park for as long as you live.

Carpe Noctem: Keep your money an extra month

The IRS has extended the deadline to file your taxes. This year, you have until May 17 to get that paperwork in, but if you are expecting a refund or a stimulus payment contingent on your 2020 income, you’re better off filing sooner than later.

“The moving of the federal deadline for filing does not mean everything due on April 15th moved,” warns financial planner Cyrus Purnell in Forbes. “Estimated tax payments are still due on April 15th. While 41 states moved their deadline last year to line up with the federal date, some states may still have April 15th as their 2020 deadline. Check with your state’s tax administrator to verify when your state return is due.”

Carpe Vinum: This month’s wine

Post & Beam 2018 Cabernet Sauvignon

It’s the first time we’ve tried this deep red wine and we’ll be buying more, because it’s good right out of the bottle. Honestly, it barely needs breathing! It’s just plain yummy after it sits for a few minutes.

We would call it “deep” the way a 72% dark chocolate is deep. So there’s actually still a little room to go, but if the train stops here, I won’t be complaining.

We purchased Post & Beam at one of 2DA’s favorite wine stores, Capitol Cellars, and we’d love to direct you to the the winery, which ships to many states – but it’s SOLD OUT. We did find it on sale at our local Total Wine for $49.99, so we suggest you check on it before they run out, too. 

In the meantime, the Post & Beam winery has re-opened for tastings. So they may show up again here this summer as a place to visit.

Carpe Festum: This month’s cheese

Yeah, we know. You’ve had it. Nothing new here, move along. But is there any herb more evocative of spring than dill? And of all the things to do in April we are suggesting, the easiest of all is picking up a slab of Havarti dill cheese.

This creamy, delicious cheese is taken for granted by many of us and that has to stop. Sure, it’s in every grocery store refrigerator section, but that’s because people like it. And did we mention that it’s creamy?

This traditional Danish cheese is really versatile. It has a “springy” texture, is perfect for a grilled cheese sandwich, omelete, or cut into small cubes to be eaten with your crackers and salami for dinner.

Because Havarti is so mild, Linda enjoys it with most wines.

“To be honest, I’m not sure I can taste the dill, but I always reach for it instead of the plain Havarti. Either way, it’s a win,” she says.

As we said, you can pick Havarti dill up at any supermarket – but our favorite comes from Trader Joe’s.

The post We’ll Drink to That – What to Enjoy in April appeared first on Two Drinks Away.

Today is my COVID Vaccine Immunity Day: marking two weeks since I received the second dose of the Pfizer-BioNTech COVID-19 vaccine. It’s the point when the CDC says you have reached a level of immunity that will allow you to resume some parts of your normal life.

I feel like celebrating. I’m reminded of those old TV ads that would run after a big sports win:

“Now that you’ve won the Super Bowl, Phil Simms, what are you going to do?”

If you remember the commercial, you know the answer was always “I’m going to Disneyland!” (or Disney World, depending on where you live).

So how am I taking advantage of my newfound status?

I’m going to Costco.

So over online shopping.

I’ve been fortunate. I don’t have a job outside the home that requires public contact, so I’ve been able to stay home for the last 13 months and use Instacart and Amazon to get groceries delivered to my doorstep.

Having this kind of technology during the pandemic has been a godsend. I try to imagine how I would have managed if COVID had occurred 10 or 20 years ago, when online shopping was less sophisticated. (I’m especially grateful that my kid is all grown up and I didn’t also have to cope home schooling.)

But using an app to purchase groceries has its drawbacks. If I am at the store getting ingredients for two or three recipes I plan on cooking this week and something isn’t there, I can see what IS available and decide how to adjust. Or pick up something that will work with a different recipe that wasn’t in my meal plan. You can offer substitution instructions to your Instacart shopper, but I invariably ended up with items I didn’t expect – such as a packaged pound of fresh ginger instead of one item, or a pack of 3 dozen Francisco hot dog buns instead of Francisco French bread rolls.

I am grateful to all the shoppers and grocery store workers who have been risking their health so I could stay home. I gladly paid the service charges and tipped them well.

And then there’s Amazon

And don’t get me started on Amazon, which doubled its profits in 2020 because of the pandemic.

I feel like I was personally responsible for a lot of that. When I did my taxes last month, I was struck by the number of Amazon charges we made over the course of the year. And after reading reports of how they are said to treat their employees, I want to kick myself a little every time I place an order with them – just because it’s safer than shopping in person.

I’m afraid Amazon has become too big to quit them entirely, but now that I’ve got a little bit of vaccine immunity, I’ve decided to only use them as a last resort.

COVID has made the mundane exciting.

It’s a little ironic that the things I want to do most after achieving immunity are so mundane. The first thing was to hug my daughter, which I did a couple of days early because it was her birthday. Shopping for groceries – in person – was the second.

Before the pandemic, I considered visiting Costco more of a necessary evil than something to savor. I hated navigating past the other shoppers (especially at the ends of the aisles, where the carts would all clump because someone was handing out samples). I was bored standing in the long checkout line. And if there are no boxes available, you may have to make several trips back and forth to unload the car.

But I really hate paying full price for paper goods and cleaning products. And over the course of staying home and cooking most days of the week, I learned I cannot live without Kirkland chicken stock and diced tomatoes.

So today, I’m going to wander through the physical aisles of the store instead of a website or app, read labels, and make shopping decisions without the assistance of an intermediary. I might even enjoy a short conversation with a checker or greeter as I make my way through the warehouse. And when I stand in that inevitable checkout line, I’m going to be patient.

At least, for today. No one knows yet how long vaccine immunity will last or if we’ll need annual boosters. At this time, they’re guessing “at least six months.” I’ve got a lot of living to cram in to that time.

Have you had your COVID vaccine immunity day? What was the first thing you did? If you’re still waiting, what do you plan to do? Let us know in the comments!

The post COVID Vaccine Immunity Day appeared first on Two Drinks Away.

Saturday night, I felt a bug coming on. Yesterday, it was full-blown sore-throat-coughing-headachy misery.

Today, I feel worse.

So I’ve crossed out all the ambitious tasks I planned to do and copied them over to next week.

And I’m trying to see this as an opportunity to rest, feel stronger, READ AN ACTUAL EFFING BOOK… and put off Weight Watchers and the gym for a few days more.

What do YOU do when a flu-like virus sidelines you for a few days?

The post Best Laid Plans appeared first on Two Drinks Away.

I plan to comply with that – to a point. But the older I get, the more I realize that life is too short to be SERIOUS ALL THE TIME. Especially since the time I have left is getting shorter every new year.

My husband and I spent the entire holiday with my sister and her family. We always enjoy time with each other celebrating the New Year – but in 2019, Linda and I decided to indulge in a longtime dream of ours: to check in to a luxury hotel for Chanukah and Christmas, where we could drink, dine, relax, and be waited upon.

I’ll be writing about that experience in another post. I only bring it up because (a) it was everything we dreamed of and (b) we spent an unprecedented 10 days together, along with most of our adult children.

Carpe Diem and The Gift of Going Analog

My Chanukah gift to my sister was an electric wine preserver. She gifted me with this:

Yeah, it’s an old-fashioned, paper-and-pencil annual planner – something I have not used since I bought my first Palm Pilot. But this one’s got a profane twist that makes it fun to use.

And I started thinking: I am not one for making resolutions, but truly do want to work on myself this year so I can enjoy the time I have left.

When I was young, the simple act of taking pen to paper and actually writing notes was key to remembering them. These days, I have such a hard time remembering things… what if the problem is not so much a failing memory, but my reliance on doing everything digitally?

So as you can see in the photo, I am embracing my new planner and writing down my goals.

How’s it going so far?

Well, I did manage to fast before visiting the UCLA Health center to get those blood tests for my annual check-up later this month. But the timing didn’t work out to get to that morning WW meeting. And I don’t like to work out on an empty stomach.

So I got some breakfast and vowed to work on the rest tomorrow.

In the end, today was NOT my bitch. But maybe I was setting my goals too high? I mean, two out of four ain’t bad, right?

At least, I remembered…

The post Carpe Effing Diem! appeared first on Two Drinks Away.

So I've been trying to be more mindful of my mental and physical health: I started working with a health coach. I make appointments with the trainer at my gym (which is a start, even if I end up cancelling at the last minute -because SOMETHING always comes up).

"We both really need to get out of the house more," my sister tells me. We are both haunted by the example of our parents, whose worlds became smaller and smaller as they aged. It's too bad Linda and I live 350 miles away from each other, because she's the easiest person to hang out with.

And I finally bit the bullet and found a primary care physician near my house. This is something I've been meaning to do for the last four years (since I recovered from my hysterectomy, which means it has been that long since I've had a checkup).

I don't like doctors. My late mother was something of a hypochondriac, and I went the other way. My philosophy is that if you never see a doctor, they'll never find anything wrong with you.

Of course, that doctrine is dumb when you get to be my age. So I made an appointment and managed not to cancel it.

The Dreaded Scale and Other Medical Indignities

Prior to arriving at the clinic, I filled out a whole bunch of questionnaires. There was a freeform space where I could tell them anything I wanted. I told them I did not want to be lectured about my weight, that I'm aware it's unhealthy, and I'm trying to get it under control.

Doctors never read that stuff.

The first thing that always happens at a medical office is they make you get on a scale. Some office staff are understanding when I tell them I DON'T WANT TO KNOW THE NUMBER (it's always worse than my scale at home because at home I weigh myself first thing in the morning, before I've eaten. And at the doctor's office, I'm wearing clothes -which we all know puts on an extra five pounds).

The second thing they do is take your blood pressure. Mine isn't all that bad, but it could be better. I tell them it will improve after I lose the weight I don't want to talk about.

I liked the doctor. She's about my age and easy to talk to - even though she ignored what I wrote on the form and proceeded to point out my less-than-wonderful BMI.

Weight Watchers

"You should try Weight Watchers," she says.

I'm on Weight Watchers, I tell her. I've been doing the digital WW program for three years. I initially lost 30 pounds, but then strayed from the program. I keep trying to get back on track, but my heart isn't in it. Plus, it's just impossible after Thanksgiving...

"You should go to meetings," she says. It turns out, she's a Lifetime member. "You'll be more successful. If you find the right meeting."

I've done the meetings before. My first time on the program, I was 18 and 130 pounds (which is my goal weight now) and my mom (who was a size 0) convinced me to try it. That was my first experience with weighing every little thing I ate and writing it all down, and I hated it.

But I especially hated sitting through the meetings: getting weighed in, listening to the leader give the weekly lecture, and trying to get us all to connect with one another. I was 18 years old. I didn't want to connect with all those middle-aged fat women.

And Weight Watchers was slooow. It took me months to lose just five pounds. I eventually quit and lost weight on my own. And for the most part, I kept it under control for my 20's and into my 30's.

Middle Age Blues

And then came the inevitable metabolic slowdown, which wasn't helped by having a baby one month before my 40th birthday. I've been yo-yo'ing every since. And so when I re-joined Weight Watchers, I actually was one of those middle-aged women. And I still hated it.

"We're not joiners," Linda reminded me. She's right. I don't know if that's just our nature or the way we were raised, but our parents didn't belong to any organizations, and I've never been comfortable with them, either.

And yet: The digital-only WW plan has not been working for me for a long time now, and it's kind of crazy to keep trying something with no results. Also, it would be nice to be able to tell that doctor I gave it a try (even if I still get no results).

The marketing department at WW seemed to be reading my mind. Last week, they sent an email touting holiday "open houses," where you could come in and just see how the meetings work these days. So on Monday, I drove out to one of these and gave it a try.

You still have to weigh in. You still have to listen to a leader give a lecture. You still have to track everything you eat, but there's an app for that now (which I already had on my phone) and there's a lot less weighing.

And you're still encouraged to connect with the rest of the group, but now I feel like I have something in common with them. And it's kind of nice to be among people who understand that the struggle is real.

Especially in December. If I can make it through the next three weeks without gaining weight, I'll feel like it's a success.

*Disclosure: Link to the Weight Watchers program is a referral link. If someone clicks on it and signs up for the program and sticks with it, I will get a free month tacked on to my program.

Plus 2 Cases of Wine, 1 Case Champagne and 2 Large Bottles of Bourbon

Quite a few years ago, I was at a women’s Jewish event, where we were asked one-by-one to share our favorite holiday. My answer was Thanksgiving. I was the only person to proclaim a non-Jewish holiday. I felt half-rebel, half-outcast.

Thanksgiving has been “my” holiday for years. Stress is minimal because there isn’t any real expectation attached to this holiday except to eat and drink. And I’m really good at eating and drinking.

The guests around the table vary from year to year, with some coming just for dessert or just appetizers. It’s fun to have an excuse to entertain for three solid days, even if it does cost us the equivalent of a small vacation, as we host a houseful of out-of-towners.

Of course, as the years have gone by, the menu has had to change to reflect everyone’s evolving dietary needs: vegetarian, vegan, gluten-free, diabetic or just plain healthier. I miss the corn dish made with cream and bacon. And the sweet potatoes-yam dish made with (never) too much butter.

I used to scour through the Bon Appetite magazines that my mother gifted me. Most have been tossed, but I kept the Thanksgiving editions because they are sentimental to me. And I hate to admit it, but the reason I’m not using their recipes any more is not my guests’ health requirements – it’s because I’m less ambitious. I want to spend less of my time with cooking and busywork, and more time with my guests. This year we have a couple of new people who are bringing their personal Thanksgiving favorites, which makes my life even easier.

While I toyed with the idea of listing the whole menu with links to recipes, I realized the only thing I really need to share is the tradition we now do before dinner. Everything else is probably similar to every other household. But, I think the pre-dinner activity is what sets us apart. In a good way.

The Before Dinner Drink:

We’ve been enjoying this yummy cocktail for a few years and if you haven’t tried it before, I urge you to run to your local Costco and buy a large bottle of Maker’s Mark, or whatever bourbon you like. And even if you aren’t a bourbon person, trust me. Santa’s Little Helper is great. I learned the hard way not to have one until dinner is ready to be served. Not exactly a light aperitif, but oh well. Thanks to Donna’s good friend, Marsha, for introducing us to it. Here’s the recipe, found on many websites:

Pour the big bottle of bourbon you just bought at Costco into a pitcher, throw in some cranberries, a couple of cinnamon sticks and a handful of whole cloves. Cover it and let it sit 24 hours. When ready to make drinks, pour over ice 3 parts of your delicious infused bourbon, 1 part triple sec, and top the glass with some 7-up. Dig up some cranberries from the pitcher to add as a garnish.

There are two other drinks I only have once a year. Eggnog, which I also wait for Thanksgiving Day to enjoy, and a holiday flavor drink from Starbucks on December 24th. 

It’s my favorite time of year.

Learn a little more about Wensleydale cheese.

It was an easy, casual meal that we both used to enjoy. And it's one of those things I don't do any more, which is a shame - because I like cheese.

I really, really, really like it.

The Problem with Cheese

I was reminded of this the other day, as I passed the cheese selection at a local supermarket known for such things. I no longer have to deal with a youngster who would hold her breath and complain about the smell of the stinkiest cheeses (she's grown and flown). But these days, I'm more interested in finding foods rated 0 points on Weight Watchers.

I glanced wistfully at a beautifully prepared cheese plate that was the perfect size for an empty-nest couple: A small wedge of Brie, a log of goat cheese, six slices each of Manchego and something that could be a white cheddar. Plus a couple of sprigs of red grapes and handful of assorted dried fruit. A pound in all, which I concluded was WW eleventy-million points.

It actually adds up to about 30 points, which is 7 points more than my allotment for the entire day. And that's before you add in the crusty bread (2 points per slice) or crackers (2 points for four of them). Or wine (4 points for a 5-oz glass), because why would I have all that cheese without a nice glass of Cabernet?

I wanted that cheese plate. I wanted it bad. And since I'm really good at finding ways to justify getting the things I want, I did a little research on the health benefits of cheese. And you know what? I found some!

Nutritional Makeup of Cheese

My mistake as a cheese lover is that after years of trying different forms of low-carb regimens, I circled back WW, which is the grandma of balanced diet plans. If I had chosen a ketogenic diet, I'd be able to eat a lot more cheese (but not the crusty French bread and probably not the wine).

Cheese is OK on a low-carb diet because it carries a power pack of protein: there's a whopping 6.5 grams per ounce of cheddar - and hard cheeses like Parmesan contain even more protein, and even probiotic benefits.

Goat and sheep cheeses are higher in protein, lower in calories, and more tolerated by people who are sensitive to dairy products (so right there is my justification for eating a little more of that Humboldt Fog and Manchego).

Alas, if your diet is a more traditional, calorie-focused regime, you'll note that ounce of cheddar translates to 115 calories. And 85 of those are saturated fat.

Here's where the discussion of healthy foods gets dicey. For years, we have believed that consuming foods low in saturated fat translated into better weight management and cardiovascular health.

Advocate Trinity Hospital dietitian Dotty Berzy definitely subscribes to this theory. "If you like cheese, feta, mozzarella and Swiss are the most heart healthy,’’ she says.

New Nutritional Studies

Fat, notes the editors at Harvard Medical School's Harvard Health Publishing, is "a major source of energy."

• It helps you absorb some vitamins and minerals

• Is necessary to build cell membranes, the vital exterior of each cell, and the sheaths surrounding nerves.

• It is essential for blood clotting, muscle movement, and inflammation.

"For long-term health, some fats are better than others. Good fats include monounsaturated and polyunsaturated fats. Bad ones include industrial-made trans fats. Saturated fats fall somewhere in the middle," they say.

Generally speaking, the good mono- and polyunsaturated fats come from food sources (think avocados, and olive oils). Animal products like cheese contain saturated fats.

" A diet rich in saturated fats can drive up total cholesterol, and tip the balance toward more harmful LDL cholesterol, which prompts blockages to form in arteries in the heart and elsewhere in the body. For that reason, most nutrition experts recommend limiting saturated fat to under 10% of calories a day," says Harvard Medical.

And yet: "A handful of recent reports have muddied the link between saturated fat and heart disease," they note.

Other Cheesy Benefits

Cheese includes some other, very interesting nutrients. The Dairy Council of California (which obviously wants to drum up more consumption) lists a few:

• Calcium (of course!)

• phosphorus

• zinc

• vitamin A

• vitamin B12

Other studies indicate that eating some cheeses can positively affect the gut bacteria in your microbiome, introducing beneficial compounds like butyrate and spermidine (which hve both metabolism-boosting and anti-cancer effects).

In the end, nutritionists seem to agree that if you enjoy eating cheese, omitting it from your diet entirely is a silly thing to do... and like almost anything else that's enjoyable, it is OK to consume in moderation.

That doesn't mean I'll be buying that cheese platter to enjoy on a weekly basis. But the next time my sister wonders if she should serve one at a holiday gathering (hint, hint!), I'll tell her to go ahead - without guilt.

Because she likes cheese, too.

And because I was blessed my mother's olive complexion, I appeared younger than my years for a very long time.

There's Nothing Graceful About It

Today, I look in the mirror and I see my mother's face - and she passed away four years ago. I know I always vowed to grow old gracefully, but now that I'm in my 60s, I realize there's nothing graceful about it.

I don't just look older - I look OLD. A little while ago, I noticed a new sharpness to my cheekbones and thought it indicated that my latest weight loss regimen was working. But when I looked more carefully, I saw something more skeletal there and  realized it had nothing to do with diet. I'm losing the fat in my cheeks due to age.

I've always fought dark circles under my eyes, but now they're compounded with bags that will not go away. There's just no amount of makeup that will conceal those black half-moons on either side of my face.  And don't get me started on the little lines that have become crevices on the sides of my mouth.

Ugh. Bangs.

The thing is, I expected all of that stuff. The part that has really hurt has been hair loss that began in my 30s and is now progressed to the point of near-baldness at the hairline. It's the reason I have worn bangs for the last 25 years (even though I HATE bangs). They're my version of a combover. And the current bane of my existence.

I just got back from the hairdresser, where I dropped a pretty nice sum of money for color and a cut. I was in the mood for something a little different, so I went kind of red today, and I'm happy with the color.

I'm actually pretty easy about these things, but the one thing I don't want to see is bald skin peeking out at the top of my head. I explain that. I explain it a lot. I let my hairdressers know that I don't care if the resulting look isn't fashionable. The only thing I really care about is creating the illusion of a full head of hair. And yet -- I don't think most hairdressers actually believe me.

The Inevitable Upsell

First, they try to sell me shampoos that promise to thicken the hair. Sometimes the sales pitch works. Always, the product proves disappointing.

Since these formulas really only add texture and don't re-grow hair, they're a waste of my money. So then I am asked if I've tried minoxidil. That was the first thing I tried to do when the hair loss began decades ago. It didn't work.

I even once had a hairdresser suggest I get Topik -- you know, the spray-on fibers they sell on cheesy TV ads at 3 AM,. I think the resulting eyeroll has prevented him from ever making that suggestion again.

Few hairdressers give me the bangs I ask for. Instead, of the thick little fringe of my dreams, I get left thin, spiky little strands that barely cover my forehead, and it doesn't work. And maybe I've just gotten to the point of no return, where I need to invest in a nice wig or at least, a lot of cute scarves and hats (which sounds like it would be just ducky to wear during a hot San Fernando Valley summer).

That's what today's hairdresser gave me this afternoon and I made him re-cut the bangs. I wasn't super happy with the result, but they looked better and I was tired. But by the time I got home and the effect of the blow dry had worn off, the fringe still looked... thin.

So I took the scissors into my own hands, combed more hair in front of my eyes and cut some additional bangs myself.

They're not all that even. But at least, they cover my bald spot. And I (weirdly) realized that I now have something in common with Donald Trump, who surely wears his hair that way in defiance of his hairdresser.

I understand.

I'm sleepy. I'm slow. I cannot focus. I start to do something and then drift off to do something else.

I simply do not function until I've used my coffee maker, and I tell people that all the time.

My family thinks it's a joke, because they truly don't comprehend how fuzzy I am until I get that glorious hit of caffeine - and that I NEED it. They make fun of me for guzzling it down and asking for another.

But thanks to the DNA analysis I got from 23AndMe, I now have a genetic excuse:

My Beloved Nespresso Coffee Maker

I'm telling you all of this so you understand the urgency I felt last Thursday, when I fired up my beloved Nespresso machine and Aeroccino... and went to pour my heated almond milk on top of my espresso...

...only to discover that my cup was devoid of its usual shot of coffee.

OK, there have been times when the machine has hiccuped. After all, I've had it for several years now.

The pod - which usually drops into receptacle designed for that purpose - was still in place. I tapped the brew button again, and this time, I watched as the machine went through the brewing process, but did not drip any of the precious coffee into my cup.

Instead, I saw vapor rising from the machine itself. All the hot water from the two brewing attempts had collected in the spill tray. I used oven mitts to grab the tray and empty it into the sink and drove to Starbucks.

I thought I remembered this happening before. "It just needs to be descaled," I decided.

But I could not descale the machine as long as that pod was stubbornly stuck in there.

Nespresso vs. Keurig

I also began Friday and Saturday with a Starbucks visit. On Sunday, I settled for a lesser cup of coffee from the Keurig (a gift from my mother, which I keep because my husband thinks espresso cups are too tiny and lattes are too fancy, and he insists he's incapable of making a pot of coffee with a drip coffee maker.)

My original Nespresso coffee maker was a premium I received in my days as a mom blogger. At the time, I determined it was the most life-changing device I'd ever owned.

(Note: That post on my original SoCal Mom blog links to a post on this site's predecessor, InQuestOf - which no longer exists. So my review of the machine has disappeared. Suffice to say: it was a positive one.)

I have a lot of reasons for preferring the Nespresso to the Keurig:

• I like to drink lattes, so I want an espresso base.

• The quality of the coffee in the Nespresso pods is better.

• Nespresso's aluminum pods are fully recyclable, and Nespresso makes it easy to do by accepting the used pods by mail.

My husband enjoys a challenge, so he attempted to remove the stuck Nespresso pod. This task led him to Home Depot a European style screwdriver he could use to take it apart.

"Well, this thing is knackered," he said, as he showed me the plastic parts that broke off when he was taking the machine apart.

RIP, my trusty Nespresso machine. It served me well.

My NEW Nespresso Coffee Maker

And say hello to my new and improved Nespresso Vertuo Plus. I ordered it immediately after learning that the old machine could not be put together again. It was delivered last night.

(Another note: I should probably mention that while my original review of my old Nespresso was a sponsored post, today I am neither an employee nor an affiliate of Nestle or Nespresso, and am receiving no compensation for writing about this now.)

My old coffee maker could only brew espresso in a couple of sizes. My usual morning cup of Joe was a latte that consisted of two shots and about 4 oz of steamed almond milk. But a few years ago, Nespresso put out new models that produce beverages in five different sizes.

And these machines brew the coffee in a revolutionary new way: not by percolating, or dripping, or pouring over - but with a built-in centrifuge. The result is a mug of coffee that has about an inch of foamy crema, (like a good espresso), and it's so rich and foamy that you almost don't need to add any milk.

The thick crema is what impressed me most about the newer Nespresso machines, and why I vowed that I would buy one when one of the old machines died. I always thought that would be the Keurig, but I hadn't counted on having a mishap with a stuck Nespresso pod.

The Vertuo retailed for about $300 when it first debuted, but the cost has come down to the $150-$200 range. There were issues with water temperature on earlier models, but I've made two cups today and both were sufficiently hot.

Best of all, since this machine makes both espresso and regular mug-sized coffee, we can get rid of the Keurig and free up some counter space for another appliance.

It's a win-win.

...and we took advantage of that by purchasing a bank-owned home whose previous owners had defaulted. The bank had made it move-in ready, with fresh paint and new carpets everywhere.

I remember thinking the house was perfect for our young family, and the only thing I wanted to change were the ugly bathrooms, which are small, featured 50-year-old formica sinks and counters, linoleum floors, and very little storage space.

That was 23 years ago. We never got around to doing anything about the bathrooms. Until this month.

The Sad Truth About Home Ownership

Let's just say that during all those years I was lamenting on how tough it is to afford a house in Southern California, I never appreciated how tough it is to pay for the upkeep on one.

I now understand that homeownership is just a series of improvement projects that have to be taken one at a time, as your budget allows.

And the sad truth is - we often made hard choices that delayed home improvements until they were absolutely necessary. My husband's family lives in the UK. Money that could have been plowed back into home improvements was instead used to visit my daughter's grandparents.

I don't regret that choice for a nano-second. My daughter is close to her grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins on both sides of the Atlantic. I call that a success - even if I'm ashamed to let anyone see where I live.

The Dreaded Ugly Bathroom

Several years ago, the shower in our master bathroom sprung a leak. The easiest way to deal with it was to simply stop using it. The shower in the guest bathroom tub works just fine.

A couple of years later, the toilet in the master bathroom broke, too. And then the plumbing in the sinks. The master bathroom became the place where we kept the cat box, and he was perfectly happy to have that space to himself.

This was not as hard as it sounds - especially after our daughter moved away, there were just the two of us. The only person who ever complained about it was my sister, who decided that a house with so many plumbing issues needed a second working toilet.

The Estimate

At one point, we did look into replacing all the broken bits and bringing the bathroom up to date.

We figured the project would cost about $10K.

The estimate came in at twice that amount.

For one thing, the entire room needed to be taken down to the studs. The space is small and the built-in vanity was about 5" narrower than the prefab units on the market, and non-standard sizes cost more. New construction means bringing plumbing and electrical up to current building codes.

Half the cost of the estimate was for the demolition, so my husband vowed to do it himself. But he works long hours during the week, and when the weekend comes, all we want to do is relax. (This is one of those hard choices I mentioned earlier).

Before we knew it, another five years had passed.

Biting the Bullet

A couple of months ago, we came to the conclusion that we were never going to do the demo on the bathroom ourselves. We called a half a dozen contractors with 5-star ratings on Yelp and invited them in to bid on our bathroom project.

We had a rapport with one of them who gave us a quote we could live with. I spent the next several weeks obsessed with shopping for the components of a new, working, modern bathroom. Demolition commenced on July 8, and this last Saturday, we took our first shower in our new space.

I won't show you pictures of the mess it was before (I was too ashamed to keep the evidence). And I'll save the messy details of our renovation for a future post. But I'm here to announce that our ugly master bathroom is downright beautiful now:

We still have one more ugly bathroom to renovate, and I can't wait. Hopefully, this time around, we'll have the resources get it done sooner rather than later.

I tried to remember the conversation I had with my sister in the morning, when told her I was planning to check out a kava bar in my neighborhood.

"That sounds like fun," she said. "I wonder if any of it will be like the wine you brought back from Barcelona."

OK, that was a non sequitur. It took me some time to realize that she was talking about cava (sparkling Spanish wine).

My husband had a similar reaction when I mentioned that I was kava-curious. He cheerfully replied that his brother used to drink instant Kava back in the 70s. (He was talking about a classic brand of reduced-acid coffee.)

Auto-correct on my iPhone is also confused. It thinks I really want lava.

(Kava, lava, java… what difference does it really all make?)

What Exactly Is Kava?

My son was the one who originally told me about this new (to me) beverage. He drinks it regularly in Austin (where he lives), especially when he’s doing his "sober months."

Sober months is an activity (or lack of activity) which seems to be growing in popularity with his age group.

I can honestly say anyone who decides to stop drinking alcohol at my age does so permanently. We are past the “temporary” stage of quitting. You’re either all-in or all-out.

The kava drink is brewed from the root of a plant (Piper methysticum) that grows in the Pacific Islands. Kava means "bitter" in the Tongan language, and there's truth in advertising there, because the beverage I drank was very bitter.

Polynesian cultures have imbibed kava for over 1,500 years as a medicinal and spiritual libation. It’s now being touted in western societies as a non-weed, non-alcoholic way to relax, mellow-out, and feel groovy.

Kava bars have long been a fixture in Hawaii, with the first one that opened in the continental United States being in 2002. In the early 2000’s there was some concern about kava’s safety, such as possible liver damage.

It appears to have been found to be safe for most people, but I’m very cautious and strive to do everything in moderation. As with taking any drug or supplement the general rules apply: Do your homework first.

My Kava Bar Experience

An online search turned up two venues near my home where I could sample some kava. The first one was a hookah lounge, so I chose to go to the one that was strictly a kava bar. I drove there shortly after their 3:00 opening, bravely opened the door and walked in.

It had a low-light kind of ambiance, which I understand is not unusual, and the background music was unremarkable. It wasn’t classic rock, wasn’t jazz, not country or hip hop. I don’t know what it was, and it didn’t impress me.

However, the rest of the place did surprise me. It was actually kind of nice.

The room was dominated by a long, wood top bar with comfortable bar chairs, and it had maybe a dozen booths. There was a young guy behind the counter (who was the owner), and a younger guy behind the bar (who was an employee). Younger guided me to my first kava drink.

He handed me what appeared to be an 8-ounce serving, with the flavoring of my choice: Irish Cream - much like the creamer I use in my coffee. But this didn’t taste anything like coffee.

He told me to drink it fast, which I easily obliged to get it over with, because this stuff must be an acquired taste. Younger suggested I suck on a lime chaser to help with bitterness, but I think I’ll pass on that the next time.

He instructed me to sit and relax to get the full effect.

Within a minute or two, my mouth got numb, kind of like a Novocain feeling. (Eh, not sure that’s something I like.)

Young and Younger behind the bar assured me that was normal.

A couple of minutes later, I started to feel dizzy. Then really dizzy.

I told Younger and he said to drink water, since kava can be dehydrating. So, I got up and clumsily walked to the bar to get a cup of water and bring it back to my booth.

In the meantime, four also-younger guys had entered the joint and were sitting a couple of booths away. They were having a good time and were obvious regulars. A 20-something woman walked in for her regular order. It was about 4:00 in the afternoon and people were stopping in to relax and socialize after work – like what my friends and I call “happy hour.”

I think Young and Younger were a little worried about me. Without prompting, Young brought me a glass of tea, which he said would help me. I wasn’t feeling sick, but who knows what I looked like. I sipped the cold tea.

After about 45 minutes, I thanked them and walked out to my car.

And to be entirely honest, I’m not sure I should have driven. My mind was OK. I didn't feel drunk or stoned or high. I hadn't attained some cool alternative mindset (which would have been fantastic). My reflexes felt normal enough and the dizziness had passed. However, my head felt… heavy. It was a weird sensation.

When I got home, I sat on the couch, turned on the TV, and called my son.

“You should drink it slowly,” he said. That’s not what Young and Younger had advised.

I felt tired the rest of the evening, but unfortunately, that didn’t translate to better sleep that night. The effects of kava apparently wear off within 30-90 minutes.

I’m thinking I'm going to try it again. I’m not afraid of it, but as I am a lightweight with drugs, I’ll ask for a weaker brew.

If there’s a moral to this story, it’s “go slow.” Buyer beware, but don’t be afraid to try new things.

I was kind of proud of myself for doing something like this on my own. It’s been a while.

Our usual July 4 routine is to stick with chilled sparkling wine... but then my daughter's boyfriend showed up at Linda's house with a ginormous bottle of tequila. And you know the old saying: When God gives you tequila, you have to make margaritas.

I confess: I'm not much of a bartender. I don't often drink margaritas outside of Mexican restaurants. If I really want one at home, I go to the supermarket for a pre-mixed Jose Cuervo (when I don't care about the calories) or Skinny Girl (when I do).

But lately, I've been trying to cut out commercially made foods with stuff like high fructose corn syrup (one of the main ingredients in that Cuervo margarita mix). I'm also enough of a food snob to appreciate a good craft cocktail, even if I don't have the patience to make one myself.

But Linda's got tons of kitchen confidence, and she spurred me on to work together on finding a margarita recipe we could call our own. The result is a story I like to call:

Goldilocks and the Three Margaritas

Like all good 21st-century people looking for obscure information, our mission began on the Internet. We did a search and perused about a dozen recipes, and picked three to try.

And we had to do a little tweaking before we arrived at the one that was Just Right.

The most important qualification for picking a recipe was that we had to have all the ingredients: Besides the tequila, that meant fresh lime juice, orange liqueur, and some kind of sweetener.

The first recipe called for agave syrup, which Linda already had in her pantry. But the agave didn't dissolve very well; I ended up having to clean most of it out of the shaker, where it had stuck.

The resulting cocktail was too tart for Linda's taste. I liked the flavor, but admitted it didn't really taste like a margarita.

We were intrigued by the second recipe we tried, because it called for angostura bitters. It also included agave, but I wasn't going to try that again. So I omitted the sweetener entirely and doubled up on the Cointreau.

That margarita tasted OK - but it wasn't great. And we wanted a margarita that tastes great.

The One That Was Just Right

For the final recipe, we decided to whip up a batch of simple syrup to replace the agave (1 cup of sugar dissolved into 1 cup of water, which we brought to a simmer and then cooled).

I dutifully added the ingredients. But the resulting drink was a lighter color than the previous one. So I poured it back into the shaker and added in more tequila.

That's when I realized that the darker color of the previous cocktail was because of the bitters. So this one ended up with double the tequila.

And of course: this was the one that tasted the most like an actual margarita.

I also found it too sweet, so I added in a couple of dashes of angostura bitter - plus an extra dash of Scrappy's orange bitter for taste.

And that's how we made a margarita that was Just Right.

Two Drinks Away Just Right Margaritas

(yields 2 cocktails)

Ingredients:

6 oz. tequila
2 oz. Cointreau
2 oz. freshly squeezed lime juice
2 oz. simple syrup
Angostura bitters
Scrappy Orange bitters

Fill a cocktail shaker with ice. Add the tequila, Cointreau, lime juice, and simple syrup and shake for about 15 seconds. Pour into a couple of glasses and swirl in bitters to taste (we added two dashes of Angostura and one dash of Scrappy Orange).

Although I like a good salt rim on my glass, it's not necessary - these margaritas were great without it.

Also, most of the recipes we saw online were adamant about using premium tequila - which is a great way to sell expensive booze. The brand we were using doesn't cost much, and the result was great.

It's possible that dipping into a $30 bottle of Patron or Chinaco would yield a better drink... but I seriously doubt that the difference would be all that noticeable. Then again, the Cointreau we used costs a lot more than your average Curacao.

Maybe the next time, we'll experiment with switching out the tequila and orange liqueur. That could be our next mission.

Subject: LAX or SFO to Rome: $200-$300 Round Trip

I forwarded the email to Linda. Five minutes later, she called.

"Is this for real?" she asked.

I'd been receiving the Scott's Cheap Flights daily newsletter for over a year, - but never had the guts to actually book one of their deals.

"I think we have to do this," she said.

To Book or Not to Book?

I had to admit: A round trip flight from the West Coast to anywhere in Europe for under $1000 is really hard to find. Scott's regularly features flights in the $500-$600 range. $300 sounded unreal.

"Is there a catch?" Linda asked.

There was no catch.

"Is it a legitimate airline?" The deal was offered on Lufthansa - but the actual flight would be on their partner airline, Swiss Air, which Conde Nast readers named one of their favorite airlines last year. So yeah - it seemed legit.

We looked at the fine print: Other than a short layover in Zurich, everything seemed kosher. And there was no nonsense about paying more to bring some luggage: both a checked bag and carry-on were included.

And did I mention that the price was under $300?

The deals on Scott's sometimes disappear within hours, so we had to decide quickly.

We booked our tickets that night. Mine came in at $287 from LAX, and Linda's was $289 from SFO. A friend of hers also jumped on it.

The one thing I did not think when I woke up that morning was, "I think I'll buy a ticket to Italy." Sometimes, life surprises you.

It Was All a Mistake - And That's a Good Thing

The folks at Scott's told me that what we got was a mistake fare: "when an airline or online travel agency (OTA) sells a ticket for significantly less than they intended." If you book one, they recommend you give it a week before you spend any additional money on your trip - just in case the airline doesn't honor it.

But Lufthansa was good as gold. Our tickets were issued right away. And that's when we discovered that most of the cost went to taxes. The actual round trip flight from LAX to Rome was just $36.

So tonight, I'm taking off and meeting my sister tomorrow in Zurich. Then, we're off to Rome.

Arrivederci!

The author's father with Katharine Hepburn in "Adam's Rib."

Girl Meets Hollywood

That may have been the first time I understood that my parents lived secret lives before I was born, and my father had been an aspiring teenage actor. I must have asked him a ton of questions about that secret life, because the next day, he marched me into the garage and gave me his old books of plays by writers like Eugene O'Neill, George S. Kaufman, and Lillian Hellman. I ate those anthologies up, and from that moment on, I know exactly what I wanted to do with my life: I was going to write for the movies. Specifically, romantic comedies like the screwball play, "Boy Meets Girl," which Samuel and Bella Spewack supposedly based on the antics of Charles MacArthur and Ben Hecht ("The Front Page") when they were in Hollywood. And this was an awesome little play, because it boiled down the essence of romantic comedies to one easily memorable formula:

I could make a career out of working on stories like that. And growing up in Los Angeles, I figured I already had a head start.

Girl Gets Hollywood

My college major was Radio-TV-Film (I'd broadened my goal a bit by then), and immediately after graduation, I got a job writing and producing a syndicated radio show. My best friend from the department landed a gig in the mail room at NBC, and I remember one excited conversation where we were comparing notes on our jobs, when she told me how great it was over there, because even behind the scenes, "EVERYBODY was YOUNG." And here is where this tale relates to the campaign to Disrupt Aging: I remember having a very fleeting thought: If everyone there is so young, what happens to them when they get OLD? From my job in radio, I jumped to one in television and eventually worked as a production assistant on a late-night show, while writing spec scripts in my spare time. And for the most part, what my friend had told me was true: The pressure to be attractive and youthful extended from the performers to the people behind the camera. Yes, there were people in positions of power who were older than 40, as well as older craftspeople who had union protection. But for the most part, those of us who worked on staff in the office were overwhelmingly young. Some of that was likely due to attrition: There was no such thing as upward mobility where I worked.  Other reasons why the people working in television were so overwhelmingly young:

• The work is seasonal, with long unpaid hiatuses.

• The hours are long (sometimes stretching into a 14-hour work day).

• And few production companies offered benefits like health insurance.

Girl Loses Hollywood

When I was 37, I had a health scare and no medical insurance. When that turned out to be a false alarm, I did what I had to do. I took my place as an adult in "the real world," by accepting a job that had nothing to do with the entertainment industry. I still kept a foot in the door by working on scripts, but I had this terrible habit of coming up with ideas and starting a project - only to abandon it after learning that production had just started on something similar. Like after I met the man who became my husband -- in an online chat room -- I had  the idea of adapting the old movie, "The Shop Around the Corner" to the digital age. This was such a great idea that Nora and Delia Ephron also sold it as "You've Got Mail." In my version, the two pen pals who hated each other were rival political consultants, like James Carville and Mary Matalin, so it was different -- but still the same general story. Or the idea I had when I shadowed the staff of a convention hotel as part of my training as a meeting planner. I was most impressed with the housekeeping team and how hard their work was. This was the inspiration for a screwball romantic comedy about a maid who is mistaken for a wealthy guest - and if that sounds like the Jennifer Lopez movie, "Maid in Manhattan," you're right. My version took place in San Francisco with a Chinese-American heroine, but you get the picture. Around the time I became a mom, the trades were buzzing about a woman named Riley Weston, who landed a lucrative writing contract at the precocious age of 19... and was then revealed to actually be 32.  And that's when I finally gave up on writing for TV and film - because if even writers are lying about their age in Hollywood, what's a 40-something housewife to do? So I focused on raising my kid. Along the way, I satisfied my urge to write by launching a blog. I entered social media on the ground floor and as my daughter started college, I managed to get a job in marketing. She is on her own now, and I'm 62, and I realize that I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. And that's a lie. The only thing I ever wanted to do was write for film and television.

Girl Dreams of Hollywood Again

Last month, one of the women I met through blogging was visiting Los Angeles and asked if I was free for lunch. It turned out that this friend - who has had a wide and varied career as a writer and speaker - had taken up screenwriting in her mid-40s.  And she's absolutely undaunted by Hollywood's obsession with youth. She knew about my history, and didn't understand why I didn't try my hand at it again, especially now that I'm unencumbered by the responsibilities of motherhood. And I got to thinking... why not? Because along with my newly empty nest, a funny thing has happened: The part of my brain that used to come up with story ideas is working again. I've been having lots of little inspirations, and I can't get them out of my head. And so that's how I'm going to DisruptAging. I am mapping these story ideas out. I accepted my friend's invitation to join her writing group. I invested a couple of hundred dollars of my own money for screenwriting software (which I have not touched in 20 years). Maybe it isn't possible for a 62-year-old woman to make a first-time script sale. But... why should that be? My age isn't visible on the page. And I know a lot more now about life and love and what's truly important than I did when I was in my 20s and 30s. At any rate, I'm going to ignore everything I think I know about the business and forge through and write my script. I'll worry about getting it read or sold or produced later. Just as a young person has to do. And in the meantime, I'm having fun. I'm writing again.

From the day my daughter was born, I lived my life according to her needs: Up by 7:00, race to daycare/school, get a few hours of work in or grab a coffee with the other moms, back for pick-up in the afternoon, then on to after school activities/shopping/meal prep. Day after day after day.

It was predictable. And comfortable. And it all changed four years ago: She went off to college - and I lost my moorings.

This is not one of those posts where I'm complaining about my suddenly empty nest. I'm proud of the fact that I raised a young adult who is taking care of herself, and we've found a nice balance.  My husband and I find plenty to do together on weekends. We're all good.

But I have had to figure out some new personal weekday rhythms.

With no reason to get up early, I often sleep in. Since I work at home, I don't need to leave the house --   so there are weeks when I go Monday through Friday without stepping outside to do more than get the mail or take out the trash. I have been known to do my grocery shopping online... because I can. If it weren't for Facebook and Twitter and email, there are days when I'd have no interactions with the outside world at all.

I don't have to be a scientist to understand that this isn't healthy.

By "Playdates" I Mean "Meeting for Coffee." Or Cocktails.

So I now start each week combing my contacts and reaching out to local friends who might be amenable to meeting me for lunch or coffee or cocktails or dinner IRL.

And it occurs to me that this is a skill I developed 20 years ago, when I was anxious to set up playdates for my only child, so she wouldn't grow up lonely and anti-social.

Only this time,  the playdates are for ME. And they are absolutely necessary.

I've talked about this with a few of these friends, who are amused by the playdate analogy.

"But you and your husband are always going out and doing interesting things," they tell me. They know this because I post the photos to Instagram and Facebook. But those activities take place on the weekend... and besides, we all know that we curate our social media feeds so that we only share the interesting stuff. If I posted what my life is really like, it would look something like this:

I could go on, but you get the picture. The highlight of the day comes at the end, when I realize my cat didn't leave me any hairballs to clean.

My "playdates" on social media may look like just a picture of a coffee cup or martini glass, but they have given me laughter... connection... and sanity. And so I'm off to schedule a few more.

I wasn't happy when I realized that the Fourth of July this year falls on a Wednesday.

I don’t know about you, but I think the greatest decision of the late 20^th century was the one that turned holidays like Washington’s Birthday and Memorial Day into 3-day weekends. It is unfortunate they did not make a similar decision with Independence Day. I suppose “First Monday in July” is just not as much fun as “Fourth of July.”

At any rate, it can be challenging to entertain on the Fourth in years when it falls on a Wednesday “hump day.” Most people I know are hanging around town rather than taking extra days off from work. What will you do? If you want simple, but good ideas (kids optional), read below. If you want really creative time consuming ideas, go to Pinterest.

The Fireworks

This is the first thing that comes to mind for most of us when we think of this holiday. (What? The Declaration of Independence? Who are you people?)

If you live each year for the fireworks, you’ll want to either take advantage of a big display in your community OR blow some up in your front yard (but only if it’s legal – unless you crave the extra excitement and flashing lights that come from breaking local laws).

This is a true American way of literally letting your money go up in smoke -  and who doesn’t love that?

I always make sure there are at least a few whistlers in my fireworks package. The reason is practical: For years, my son used the 4^th of July fireworks to blow up fruit and vegetables. This bit was a hit with the other neighborhood kids. Now that he’s all grown up and isn’t home on the 4th, our fruit is relatively safe -- but I admit to missing the chaos and excitement that always came with this holiday.

Food and Drink

We’re lucky to live in an area where ”safe and sane” fireworks are legal to set off in the street, and our street always makes a big show of it. I’ve discovered that you can buy your way into your neighbors’ hearts by bringing out some sparkling wine to share with them. (The other way is to make sure you pick up your dog’s poop on their lawns. Better yet, mow their lawn once in a while.)

Be sure to purchase a couple of extra bottles of bubbles and some $1.92 champagne flutes to share. You can’t go wrong.

Most large cities and many smaller ones have their own large fireworks displays. This usually means getting in the car and driving to a park with a lot of people. Meet your friends there, bring a picnic dinner (don’t forget the bubbly) and enjoy the show.

To make it even more festive, you can add a hibiscus flower to the bottom of the glass for a very pretty look. I like adding four or five pomegranate seeds to bounce in the glass as I drink.

Invite your friends for an early dinner/BBQ. with the fireworks as the grand finale (which also works as a hint that it’s time to go home -- DO make sure you serve your dessert before the fireworks).

SIMPLE MENU for Midweek Fourth of July BBQ

(This is especially easy if you have to work Tuesday and Thursday.) It is so easy, yet satifsying, you’ll actually be able to enjoy yourself and everyone will be happy:

• Your favorite protein to BBQ (chicken, steak, salmon, etc.)

• Cut up vegetables for grilling in a basket (cauliflower, mushrooms, squash, onion). Marinate in some olive oil and seasoned salt.

• Small red potatoes, cut in half, seasoned with olive oil, crushed garlic, and seasoned salt. Grill in a basket.

• Edamame salad: One bag frozen shelled edamame, one bag frozen corn, red chopped red onion to taste,  a lot of cilantro, and your choice of dressing (I use a Trader Joe’s cilantro salad dressing).

• Egg salad with tarragon (keep mayo to a minimum, add some salt to taste)

• Good bread

• Purchased cake and berries, and/or ice cream

Watch a Movie

With scorching July temperatures, people clamor for a place where they can chill for a while – like an air conditioned theater. So it’s no wonder that the studios release blockbuster movies for Independence Day.  I’m more of a stay-at-home-on the-holidays kind of person, so binging on movies at home is good for me. Here are some patriotic movie suggestions for the holiday:

• Independence Day  (I mean, why not?)

• Dave

• Top Gun

• The American President

• To Kill A Mockingbird

• Glory

• The Patriot

• Air Force One

• Patton

• Casablanca

• Saving Private Ryan

• Mr. Smith Goes to Washington

• Miracle

• Apollo 13

• All three of the Back to the Future movies. Great for binging.

CH-AR-GE IT!

Go shopping – I hear that is a patriotic thing to do! Purchase a flag if you don’t have one or if yours is in bad shape. Check out the traditional patriotic shirts that are sold every year at Old Navy. There’s also this red, white and blue heart shaped necklace that is fun, or this very cool Sunnydaze hammock you can buy online.

Do Your Part

Research your community to see where volunteers are needed, either for clean-up, helping with a large event, or donations of food. If your parent is in a senior living residence, check to see if they need  Fourth of July help (or any other day). Giving to others in our community is one of the most patriotic activities we can perform.

Please leave any other ideas you have for how to spend the Fourth of July on a Wednesday. And remember, two drinks away is a good place to be.

And of course, lots of places to grab a bite to eat - or relax with a drink before heading home.

My sister and I were not heading home for another day, but we had an afternoon to kill. So we decided to kill a few brain cells while we were at it with cocktails in a Grand Central Station bars.

And what better cocktail to imbibe in Manhattan than a Manhattan? Then one drink led to another and before you knew it, we had embarked on the kind of epic endeavor that only seems like a good idea when you've got a buzz on: To sample a Manhattan in every bar in the building.

Yes, it was our own personal Manhattan project.

The Classic Manhattan

For those of you who have never tried this most American of cocktails, you should know that the recipe has been around since the Gilded Age, and has remained pretty much the same:

2 parts whisky, 1 part sweet vermouth, and 2 dashes of bitters. It can be served straight (in a cocktail glass) or on the rocks (in a rocks glass). Garnish can be a twist of lemon or a maraschino cherry.

It sounds simple, but we learned over the course of the afternoon that there are lots of variations within the framework of those three ingredients, thanks to different kinds of whisky, vermouth, and bitters.

The Bar at Cipriani Dolci

Cipriani Dolci is located on the West Balcony and is part of a chain of upscale Italian restaurants that that originated with Giuseppe Cipriani's legendary Harry's Bar, opened in 1931 in Venice. This bar feels like it's that old, too - even though it dates only to the station's last renovation in 2002.

The bartender there asked if we wanted our drink order dry,  sweet, or "perfect." This referred to the vermouth, with "perfect" made up with equal parts dry and sweet. Since perfection isn't something you find every day, we opted for that.

And having tasted it, I've decided that I will ask for my Manhattans made perfect from now on. The drink's balance of flavors was indeed, perfect - right down to its Luxardo cherry garnish. This became the benchmark against all the other Manhattans we sipped.

2. Michael Jordan's Steak House

Right next door to Cipriani on the East Balcony is Michael Jordan's Steak House. The kitchen was closed for renovations on the day we visited, but the bar was open for business. Alas, their Manhattan was not all we expected.

Linda thought it was because I ordered it on the rocks and waited a few minutes, so it was watered down. But the one at Cipriani was also iced and it was delicious down to the last drop.

Perhaps it was the whisky? We asked for Bulleit in each of the two establishments but didn't specify bourbon or rye. Perhaps Michael Jordan's barkeeps were making Manhattans with the former when we were expecting the latter.

I was also disappointed that there was no cherry garnish, which seems a silly thing to be upset about at my age. I guess I really do like to have my cherry on top.

3. The Bar in the Northwest Hall

The Bar at Great Northern Hall is the type of place that employs "mixologists" instead of "bartenders."

Our mixologist let us know that he trained with Jonathan Waxman at Barbuto. He also informed us that Bulleit wasn't an option, because The Bar only stocks "artisanal spirits from small batch producers."

So for our very artisanal Manhattan, we settled on Rittenhouse Pikesville rye, from Kentucky - on the assumption that since Bulleit is made in the same state, it might have a similar flavor.

This Manhattan featured its own mix of bitters: 2 angostura, 2 orange, and 2 peychoud. These were all (of course) handcrafted and sourced locally from Hudson Standard. We got into quite a conversation about bitters with our mixologist, who boasted that he keeps over 100 different kinds of bitters in his apartment.

I may add that our drink also had a house-made maraschino cherry speared by an absolutely gorgeous cocktail pick. And with all that artistry and care, how was it? Delicious.

4. The Oyster Bar

This is the oldest watering hole in Grand Central. The tiled ceiling is gorgeous, but the rest of the decor looks like it was plucked out of the 1970s. We were expecting something that looked old and elegant, so this was a disappointment.

We cannot vouch for the quality of the seafood, but they do make a good, generic-tasting Manhattan with a pedestrian maraschino cherry.

The Oyster Bar was our last stop on our tour of Manhattans in Manhattan. We had a dinner reservation to catch in the Bowery, were definitely feeling all that bourbon and vermouth... and were under the impression that we'd actually hit every bar in the terminal. Alas, when we got back home and began the research to finish this post, we learned that there are at least two more bars we never got to see during our visit.

So now we have a reason to return...