Stories of Stuff

Like most people, I have seasons of accumulation and seasons of divestment. Sometimes, it's even at the same time, I'm chucking and acquiring all at once, in different categories. 

In my fifties, I desperately wanted to renovate my basement, but the huge barrier was getting rid of all of the stuff that had accumulated there, from my several moves and my mother's big downsizing into an apartment. I worked away at it, and finally declared defeat and hired someone to finish the job. "Just get rid of it, and keep it out of the landfill" I said. By then, I had picked through it, and successfully disposed of most items of value. But some stuff I wasn't prepared to sort or part with, and so it all went into boxes to be stored in a shed in the back yard until the renovation was complete. Then, when my beautiful basement was complete, I sorted before allowing anything back in. Much stuff was gotten rid of. The basement was furnished, but uncluttered.

Then, my mother died.  Not tragically, at 92 she was just beginning to fail, but suddenly, and unexpected at that particular time. Among the tasks that fell to me was the cleaning out of her apartment. 

I was pretty organized back when I started in the storage unit

"Gosh, she has a lot of nice stuff! I mean, it's really nice, but it's a lot!" was the universal comment that came from everyone that came in to help. Yes, yes it was. I had embraced the philosophy of minimalism (though not entirely the practices, in fairness). All this very nice stuff. What to do with it?  I wrote about the struggles at the time.

I'm now down to the last remaining items in the storage unit I rented. To get it cleared out, I brought several boxes home, where they are cluttering up my office and spare bedroom. I'm done with most of the sentimentality that made me want to hang on to things. But, I do have sadness for the stories that attach to the objects. I had an idea years ago - about the time I retired, before my mother died, of using a blog as the place to capture the stuff and tell the stories. I even started the documentation when I retired. I had a big box of awards I had gotten at work, and I was never going to hang them up on the wall at home. So I photographed them, and blogged about them, in a separate blog. But I never published it, and shortly after, overwhelm hit me and I never got back to it.

But now I have picked it up again. I have some objects I am going to dispose of, and the blog posts are partly advertisements! Other things, I'll just write about without trying to flog them off on anyone. They may be gone already, anyway.

So, take a look at my Stories of Stuff blog.

 

Quick Trip to California

 I went out to Santa Cruz to assist my girl with some medical and logistical issues. This was my third trip to Santa Cruz, and the second where I stayed in the very lovely seaside motel. I ended up in the exact same room - probably their smallest, set aside for single cheapish travelers. 

The first sunrise, from just outside the room.
Part of the pier washed away just before Christmas!

 

The motel gave us sparkling wine, roses and chocolate
for Valentine's Day!

From the room, I have a view of the ocean (actually, Monterey Bay). With the window open, I can hear the surf and sometimes even the honking of the seals that hang out there. Even though this is the Pacific Ocean, due to the curving of the coastline, my view is to the south east. In February, that puts the rising sun directly in front of my window. As an east coast person, I was awake for every sunrise.

Second sunrise. Absolutely spectacular! I couldn't look away!

 The visit was great! My grown girl is a joy and a delight. We had several great meals, some successful and some unsuccessful shopping for her up coming semester in Australia, and mixed medical updates with a lot of uncertainty. I am now familiar with the area, and when my girl was busy I was able to amuse myself nicely in the lovely seaside town. There is a pleasure in going back to a place - I don't know it well, there is lots still to discover, but there are also known pleasures to revisit. 

 

Surfers! Many, all in wetsuits, shortly before sunset
Taken from the motel garden

We made an excursion down to Carmel-by-the-Sea, a precious rich-people's enclave with galleries and shops that were fun to browse. We amused ourselves looking up houses on Zillow- the cheapest we found, smaller than my small house, was $2 million! There, we had the best meal - a micro brewery that had a terrific fancy vegan bean-and-eggplant burger, and a smash burger for me.

Third sunrise - duller, but the Boardwalk amusement park was lit up!

 

On the beach at Carmel

I was fairly profligate in spending on this trip. My return flight was scheduled to depart at 6:20 am from an airport an hour away from Santa Cruz. I did that which you are advised never to do: pre-paid for a tank of gas to save the time of hunting for an open gas station near the airport at 5 am. (We managed to put 350 miles on the rental car burning a lot of gas; I figure this option cost me only $20 but saved me twenty minutes.)  In addition, when I booked the flights, I was offered an upgrade to first for the smallest increment I've seen. (I have a jillion miles on United because of the affiliate credit card, and charging some college tuition on it.) So I went for it! This was my first time in domestic first class in 25 years. (In my years working at the airline, I often flew standby in first class.) Judgement: nice to have less hassle overall and a bit more space, but truly not worth it.

First class pre-ordered hot breakfast

 

Last sunrise of the trip - fabulous!

Oscars 2025

 In the mood for a little escapism these days. Here's my summary of the noms and what I've seen:

BP=best picture; BD=Best Director; BM=Best Male Actor; BF=Best Female Actor; SM=Best Supporting Male Actor; SF=Best Supporting Female Actor; AS=Best Adapted Screenplay; OS=Best Original Screenplay

I've listed the movies nominated in the categories I care about. It comes to just 14 total. So far, thanks mostly to the heroic efforts of my friend Liz, I've seen five of them. Two I seem to have missed - I'll have to keep checking.

I really like the ones I've seen so far. I notice who has been snubbed and I'm sorry for it. I might have to bite the bullet and try to actually see The Brutalist in the nearby theatre. I'm just never up for such a long haul sitting still. I would do better at home - but will it become available in time? Do I need to do the trip to Bethesda to see Dylan or will it become available? Wicked is available to rent - for twenty dollars! - will it go down in price any time soon? Can I stomach The Apprentice or is it too close to home right now? I'll definitely pay to rent The Substance.

Cardio

I love the routine I have for functional strength training. I've been working with my trainer for years now. When I met her she referred to her "boyfriend", and it was a big deal when she moved in with him (in his parents' house). Now, they are married, own their own house, and have a three year old! Adorably, the three year old is often on the other end of the video call, and she sometimes copies my movements. I love the movements, the strain on my muscles, the stretching and moving in every direction. I work out on my own between our twice-a-week sessions, but for my trainer I work harder than I do on my own. So this is a success, and I won't tamper with it.

But I need to work my heart harder, according to my doctor. I need cardio! She gave me specific targets of time and effort: twenty minutes of high intensity exercise five times a week!

I have not enjoyed high intensity exercise for a few years. I used to love it! My first brush with using machines, the basement Nordic Track, was the first time I consciously felt how good the body feels during and after working hard. It can be exhilarating! I believe the machine got me to a high enough cardio fitness level that finally I could start running. And I loved running! No, not every day, and not ever for the first 10 minutes. But the way it made my body feel was great! 

I was an early adopter of a heart rate monitor, back in 1998. I'd read about appropriate training intensities, and here was a gadget to help! My first one had a chest strap and a watch that displayed time, heart rate, and elapsed time. Nothing else- GPS hadn't downsized to live on wrists yet, and phones were flips that couldn't even text. I propped the watch up on the Nordic Trak so I could see it all the time. I learned that perceived effort each day did not tie to heart rate - I could feel like I was pushing myself to the limit, but some days the ol' heart just didn't want to pump fast. Interestingly (to me, any way) the day before I got sick was always a day the heart was sluggish.

I also learned that walking didn't get the heart rate up high enough to be in the high intensity zone. Nordic Track, swinging my arms in time to my legs, quickly did raise the rate. A walk has many benefits, but I cannot hustle enough to accelerate the pumping of my heart. Only uphill - which in the absence of a mountain to climb, is always going to be brief - begins to approach my target zone. My first tentative jogging steps taught me there is no comparison to walking - my heart got excited and pumped away! The mechanics of walking and running are really distinct from each other (jogging is simply slow running - no technical difference). I might be a slow AF runner, with young men passing me while walking, but the cardio benefits are real even at my pace.

When I stopped running, I stopped ever exercising in that intense zone. The last year I ran anything more than a token amount was 2019. My Nordic Track had long been retired, in a dusty heap in a corner of the basement. I still did small amounts of cardio on the machines in the gym, but that all came to an end in March 2020. 

But now I have machines galore! My BIL lent me (effectively gave me) his long-unused stationary bike. I bought a rowing machine in January 2023, and used it a lot the first couple of months, and only intermittently afterwards. I started up again this autumn, since I started on this cardio bout, and also because now I have a friend who is also starting to row. I have a mini-trampoline, which I use to bounce a bit in front of the TV. But on the tramp, I can't get going enough to get the heart rate high - my balance isn't what it was, and so I don't have the exuberance I used to, not getting a lot of air on the bounces.

Detailed stuff about heart rate:

When I first started using the heart rate monitor, I used the classic formula for maximum heart rate: 220 minus your age in years. So I was about 45, and my max heart rate was calculated to be about 175. There is a formula more accurate for old people, seventy percent of your age subtracted from 208 (208-(age*.7)). The two formulas give the same answer for age 40 and from then on the "208" formula gives a higher number as your max heart rate, and is said to be more generally accurate.

The reason for knowing your max heart rate is to be able to calculate training intensities. Cardio benefits really kick in at the higher intensities, 75-85% of max. Fat burning benefits kick in at somewhat lower intensities, 65-75% of max. 

But here's a wrinkle I only just learned - biking (an exercise that doesn't use your arms) will lead to lower heart rates than running (a whole-body exercise), but can yield big benefits at a lower number. Who knew? 

But I found that even though I was working very hard on the rowing machine, my heart rate (on the Apple Watch) was consistently lower than on the bike! I was confused, because the rower certainly uses my whole body. Was it a measurement error from the watch? I googled "why is my heart rate so low on a rowing machine" and found links into Reddit, where this very question was being addressed by the helpful nerds who hang out there. Basically, they said we must be using the wrong technique. We must be using our back and shoulders more than our legs, which is inefficient.

So here's the rowing technique tips in english: the first part of the motion is pushing back explosively with your legs. During that, your hands and arms are just along for the ride, with your legs doing the work to pull the bar you are holding. Only after your legs are fully extended should you lean back, and in the final part of the stroke use your arms to pull the bar up to your chest. The return is rest, no effort expended. And, do not try to go faster by returning faster! That should stay the same, a passive ride, until the legs are bent and you can explode back again. The faster you push back, the more strokes per minute. But strokes per minute doesn't need to get too fast; instead, raise the resistance.

So I tried that one morning, and the difference in my heart rate was signficant! I went up to a higher zone quickly, and stayed there the whole time. And felt my whole body aerobicized afterwards, a great feeling! It feels like a break through!

Stronger Next Year

My gym! Rowing machine along the back.
I just installed the bar to help with balance exercises.

I did not have a great year physically. It started with recovering from my knee surgery, carried on through a summer of increased migraines and still not up to snuff on my knees, and crashed and burned as a result of my vigorous (but fun!) sailing vacation, where I injured my rotator cuff and generally burned out my whole body.

Through it all I tried to keep moving and working out in my basement gym. (I love my basement gym, and I enjoy working with my personal trainer there.) But there were definitely days on the couch where I hardly left the house. I felt old. I felt feeble. I was fat, and nothing I did seemed to affect that. I woke every morning feeling like the Old Red Woman, bent over, stiff, wobbly, and in pain. I felt frustrated that my body was so frail. I was preparing myself for a new reality of being old and feeble. I told myself that I actually was old, almost seventy years old. Any time there was a news article that another celebrity had died, the first thing I did was check their age. So many of them younger than me!

But by late fall, I felt myself getting better. Stronger. More capable. Actually doing things. Feeling competent and capable. Walking still did not feel good, but I adjusted and spent more time in my home gym working with weights or my rowing machine or on the stationary bike my BIL gave me. I went back to the mental disciplines I had learned over the years of dealing with pain, meditating and observing the pain with kind curiosity. I had some adventures, on the water and on the scoot. I had some actual good days, where I woke up feeling good. Not stiff. Not bent over. Not feeble. Ready to face the day, get out there and do things.

The election results hit me like a gut punch. As I got out of bed the following morning, I was initially fine, but by the time I had walked the length of the house to let the dogs out, my back had tightened into a full fledged spasm. SPROING! I was bent over, leaning on furniture like a toddler doing her first cruise around the house. I pulled out my tool kit, things I know, deep down in my body and mind, to be true. First, mentally: "there is nothing wrong with you. You are safe. You are fine. Yes, the back is clenched, but it's not broken. Yes, the world has gone to shit, but you are safe. Your body is safe." Then I started my series of exercises/ stretches that I know deep down are going to help. I also reached for the tylenol, because comfort is an important part of feeling safe. 

This worked! It took a couple of weeks - the back clenched every morning for a while - but it got fainter, and gradually went away.

Around this same time, my primary care doctor told me that based on my testing, I have great lung capacity and a strong heart, but I have shit endurance. She prescribed aerobic exercise, specific amounts at specific heart rate levels of effort. The next week, my neurologist reinforced this - certain levels of aerobic exercise seem to have a protective effect on migraines.

The view my trainer has from my phone while we video.
I have all the toys! I bought my first weights in 1995,
and I've been adding equipment ever since.

So I'm all in on the cardio now, added to my twice-weekly strength training and daily warm up stretches. I have the devices to keep me going indoors this winter- a rowing machine, a (bottom-of-the-line no bells-or-whistles) stationary bike. I have a mini trampoline in front of my TV. And I dusted off my original, built of wood in Minnesota, Nordic Track ski machine from 1993! Using the NT was the first time in my life I enjoyed indoor cardio, back in the day. It needs refurbishment, but it turns out that while the old ski machines are no longer made, there are enthusiasts and through a sub-reddit I found a guy who sells refurbishment kits with the most common replaceable parts! It's on my list to get it fixed up - probably a few hours work.

I found that walking can't get my heart rate up high enough to meet my PCP's exercise prescription. I try hustling along, but the heart stays stubbornly beating slowly. Only up very steep hills does it go up- and I can't currently sustain that for long enough. This all may change as I get more aerobically fit.

Three Windows to the Twentieth Century

 Three of the best books I've read this year are history / historical fiction set across the breadth of the 20th century. They are hugely different from each other, but all resonate with me on where we are now. In chronological order as they are set (which happens to be the reverse of my reading order):

The Hired Girl, by Laura Amy Schiltz

A young girl in the early days of the 20th century is determined to improve herself. I was impressed by her strength of character and determination in the face of great obstacles. As the book opens, she is in such dreadful circumstances that I wasn't sure I was going to be able to persist. But things brighten up, as she takes action. An unusual element of this book are her struggles with faith, as she figures out what her Catholic faith means to her, and she struggles to understand the Jewish family whose house she works in and whose family members interact with her. It is overall an optimistic book, leaving me feeling refreshed for knowing there is goodness in this world. Fans of Little Women will love this.

Munich, by Robert Harris

I stumbled upon this book. The author has a new book out with a favorable review in the paper. When I went to see if the library had the new book, there was a year-long waiting list. As I often do, I checked to see what else this author had written that might be available sooner, and ended up with this. (Note, I listened to it, didn't read it.)

We probably all know this much: Prime Minister Chamberlain went to Munich to meet with Hitler, sold out Czechoslovakia with his explicit policy of appeasement, and he came home to England three days later proclaiming he had ensured "peace in our time". War broke out less than a year later. 

This fictional story is entirely faithful to the known facts, who was in the room when, who said or wrote what. But it's told from the point of view of two fictional young men, one English and one German, who are minor functionaries for their respective governments, and who have a complicated intertwined backstory. They are present as all the big decisions are thought through and finalized. It gave me new insights as to why Chamberlain did what he did. I still think it was an infamous act. But the strong motivation to avoid war at all costs has its attractions and it is presented with context. But the scenes with Hitler, irrational and frightening, gave me chills. Please save us from crazy dictators!

An Unfinished Love Story, by Doris Kearns Goodwin

I have read several books by Doris Goodwin before, biographies and memoirs. At the beginning of her career, she was a White House intern on Lyndon Johnson's staff. After he left the White House, she worked for Johnson, organizing his papers at his ranch in Texas. In all of this, she just missed crossing paths with her future husband, Dick Goodwin, ten years her senior and predecessor at the White House. Dick Goodwin was one of John Kennedy's earliest staffers, one of his principal speechwriters, and became a confidant of Jackie Kennedy. After the assassination, he stayed on at the Johnson White House for a time, and coined the term the Great Society. His opposition to the Vietnam War put him at odds with Johnson, and he became one of Robert Kennedy's earliest supporters, and was present when he was shot. 

In this book, Doris G. chronicles how she and her husband went through his boxes and boxes of papers and memorabilia from that time, recreating in detail many pivotal moments where Dick G. was present. Further, she follows up on many of the those moments, going beyond the personal history to bring us up to date on what happened since, what was the lasting impact of those times. 

In these discouraging and cynical times, it was eerie to transport myself back to the time when it seemed the world was changing so fast for the better. It did me good to be reminded (or made aware) of one of the most productive and positive times for our government. In the space of two years, the Civil Rights Act, the Voting Rights Act, and the foundational legislation for the Great Society: Medicare, Medicaid, Head Start, federal aid to education, the War on Poverty, federal minimum wage, urban renewal (OK, that one maybe not so great). Per Wikipedia: The Johnson Administration submitted 87 bills to Congress, and Johnson signed 84, or 96%, arguably the most successful legislative agenda in US congressional history. Sadly for the country, the world, and Johnson himself, the Vietnam War choked off funding and focus on implementation of this agenda, but many of these programs are still with us today. 

But even the story of Vietnam resonates with messages of inspiration for today. Eugene McCarthy ran an upstart challenge to the Johnson re-election campaign, and succeeded in making Johnson withdraw, but he still lost. There were twists and turns - Robert Kennedy entered the race and divided the challengers, was killed, and McCarthy took the banner back. But by the time of the Chicago convention, conventional wisdom and a centrist Democrat, Hubert Humphrey, was the weak challenger to what has become the mostly-Republican government that we have known as adults. But Dick Goodwin was there at many of these crucial inflection points, lending an immediacy to the telling of events that kept me enthralled throughout this book.

Vespista

Rolling Through Roslyn
(not my photo)

The past couple of days were spent surrounded by the waspish buzz of Vespas! It was the annual rally of the Vespa Club of DC (VCDC), the Monumental Raduno. The club, which had a slow start immediately pre-pandemic, sponsors group rides, fixes up and gifts to college students some donated scooters, and holds this annual rally. This year, there were a record number of Vespista* who signed up, just shy of 100 people. While all scooters are welcome to events, the club specifically celebrates Italian culture.

I went on a few group rides sponsored by a different DC-area scooter group pre-pandemic, but this was my first VCDC event. Since I knew absolutely no one, I signed up to volunteer to help. I am very shy in new situations, and usually end up hanging in a corner alone, or even backing out entirely due to anxiety at the last moment. Volunteering meant I was certain to have to talk to people.

The weather in Washington has been unrelentingly grey and wet for a week or more, and Friday dawned pouring. The plan for an outdoor Friday night kickoff party was changed to an incredible indoor venue, hosted by a club member who just happens to own a tech company with its headquarters in a modern building next to the Potomac in trendy Georgetown. We took over the reception and cafeteria area of the company offices, including some touches one might expect of a tech company: ping-pong table, putting green, an outdoor terrace overlooking the river and forests of Virginia. We also had access to free indoor parking, an incredible benefit in busy Georgetown on a Friday night. 

At the Italian Embassy.
My bike is the blue, 3rd from right

I had decided in advance I would drive my car to the Friday night event, skipping the planned night ride around downtown DC and also avoiding a long scoot home by myself in the dark and rain. The skies cleared during our casual sandwich dinner and announcements, allowing us to spend time out on the deck admiring the view. It turns out the folks in the club are very friendly, so I didn't need to worry so much about hanging out alone. A common conversation opener was, "How long have you been riding?". When I stopped to think, I was surprised to realize my answer is "20 years"! I got my first motorcycle license (required for above 50cc motorbikes) in 2004, which seems like yesterday. In my conversations, most men (grey-haired) downsized into scoots from motorcycles, often to ride with their wives. There were more young women than young men, as well as those my age.

Colors of the Italian flag, at the embassy

I woke Saturday at 6 am to the sound of pouring rain, but by my 8 am departure time for the rendezvous there were signs of the grey mist burning off. We ended up having the only sunny day for many days (and for several more days to come). What a treat!

We gathered outside the Dupont Circle area hotel where out of town guests were staying. (A small group came over from Italy, and about a dozen people rode down in the rain from New York together.) After a safety briefing (which included teaching hand signals used) we formed up into a column and headed out for a 45 minute ride through DC and over to Virginia. The group ride was so fun! Because there were so many of us (50+ at least) our ride included "blockers" - folks who rode alongside the column, and sometimes blocked cross-traffic to allow us to flow on through red lights. With the traffic circles and such, it would otherwise have been impossible to move with that many people. As we were going through areas with government offices and embassies, we rolled on through red lights right in front of many police cars, who seemed indifferent to our maneuvers. 

Modernist Embassy,
Many scoots!

That ride ended up at the Italian Embassy, which opened up the grounds just for us! We parked in a colorful line, and were treated to expresso and gelato. Some minor cultural official from the embassy greeted us - apparently real world events were occupying the ambassador.

Further events involved splitting up into small groups for more rides, lunch, and then a gymkhana. That last is a skills event held in a parking lot, focusing on tight maneuvers. It looked like nothing so much as dog agility, weaving around cones, driving over a teeter-totter(!), around into tight circles, kicking a ball into a soccer net without any feet touching the ground. I didn't give it a try, but I might practice for a future event. 

Lining up to go for a ride
(not my photo)

I was so occupied with enjoying myself, I took few photos. So this post includes some taken by others.

It was a lot of fun! There are some group rides coming up, and I might make the next one. It will compete for time with sailing, which has also been scarce due to the good weather.

*Vespista is the correct non-gendered plural for those who ride Vespas, which is the Italian word for wasp.