I wanted to paint a tribute to the bakers of the pandemic. I asked my niece, Hallie, of the Wordy Baker blog, to pose a reference photo for me and the painting became a lot more: a tribute to baker Hallie, to kanelbolle, a kind of Scandinavian cinnamon roll, and to our Norwegian heritage. She is wearing an ethnic costume that she made, and I put a scene that I took from the window of Oslo City Hall in the background. I felt like I was on the right track when I kept getting hungry every time I worked on this painting. The Joy of Cooking has a term I like for fancy baked goods: “…Begin, if you like, with a loaf of whole wheat, which requires neither sifting nor kneading, and go on from there to more cunning triumphs”. Hallie’s blog post on how to make kanelbolle is here. I haven’t tried it yet, but the next time I want to be triumphant about something, I think that is a good candidate.
It has now been 157 days, or three dog years, since I retired, so I thought I’d take stock. How has my life been upended? How has it stabilized? How is my bucket list doing?
Food. I have always loved to cook, especially to bake, and especially to bake bread. One time during my working days I decided I was going to master the perfect rustic loaf: crusty and crunchy outside, chewy and feisty on the inside. I had gotten pretty close too, but then I got busy, and the skills were eventually lost. I could still bake bread, just not the bread.
But since I retired, I’ve started my quest up again. This time, I was armed with a luscious stinky sourdough starter and tips from my good friend S.C— T— (also an adept of the Doughy Arts), and a great recipe for bread in a Dutch Oven. Equipped as I was with ingredients, tools, arcane know-how, and most of all time, I quickly started making progress.
Then one day I stepped on the bathroom scale and realized that I was paying a heavy (get it?) price for my knowledge, that I was not willing to pay. Since then I have scaled back, and am content to make incremental progress toward bread perfection, at a rate governed approximately by the rate at which my friends and neighbors are willing to take the loaves off my hands. Stay tuned!
Clothing. Once freed from the tyranny of “dress codes” and “business casual”, I’ve been able to discharge a Debt of Honor to my sister Tara.
When Tara’s daughters were a bit younger, they started to experiment with hair dye. These were hues completely outside of the crayon box that mother nature provided her children: neon pinks, blues, purples, greens. At that time, I told my sister that she should dye her hair like that too, and to sweeten the deal, I said that if she would, then I would. But Tara called my bluff and took the neon plunge! And so did my other sister Lona! And my other sister Innes!
Kirk Van Houten (the Simpsons)
I was still working then, and I confess that I was worried how a not-of-this-earth hair statement might be viewed at my workplace. They weren’t prudes there, but there were certain unspoken lines that it took more courage than I had to cross. But now I’m retired and can do as I please, so I got my hair dyed an electric cyan-blue that would do Milhouse’s dad Kirk proud.
Shelter. Kathleen and I have been looking into perhaps a small house trailer, inspired by a dream to travel the world in a way that allows us to bring our dog Archie everywhere, and partly spurred on by Lona’s recent post-retirement purchase of a cool retro-looking Scamp trailer. We’ve only made a little progress on our own mobile home dreams, but we almost closed a deal on a new (to us) pickup truck that I think could pull a nice Teardrop, if we get one. Baby steps!
Wherewithal. The government was shut down right before I retired, so some of the tasks for which I was responsible had to go un-transitioned. I told them at work that if they arranged a contract, I would help with some transitioning later on. They did, and I’ve done just a little bit. It gives me an excuse to see some old friends, and it doesn’t seem like it will have too great an impact on my time (or my income).
CAC Card
But one wrinkle I had forgotten about was that as part of this contract, I will need a Common Access Card (CAC), which is a government-issued photo ID. If I had planned it better, I might have gotten this card before I honored my hair-promise to my sister. We’ll see how that goes.
