Some distractions are better than others – Retirement Confidential

Well, well. What to make of the Epstein fuss? After careful deliberation, methinks I will stick to mediocre golf and good food, as the more I read about this business, the weirder it gets. Not that I don’t appreciate the entertainment value, but I fear it’s just another distraction, and Trump will once again slip away without a hitch.

I look forward to being wrong.

Some distractions are better than others. I prefer golf to pedophiles, although it’s looking like golf is a little less predictable. In my women’s league, last week I was DFL in my flight. That stands for Dead Fucking Last. This week I tied for low gross over the field.

I don’t understand why I can’t play well all the time, and it used to make me so mad. But now there’s The Great Big Picture Book of things to be mad about, so it was time to make peace with the ups and downs of recreational golf.

It’s better this way. Honestly, I’m just happy to be healthy and able to play. Double bogeys pale in comparison to masked men grabbing you off the street.

A friend of mine in Los Angeles is Mexican-American, born in the United States. I met her when we were both in the Army. She went on to get a PhD and taught at the university level. She’s retired now and recently wrote that she might start carrying her passport when she goes out. Because her skin is brown.

This was supposed to be about golf and food, but I seem to be combusting, so let’s just go with it. Among the multitude of things that fire me up are the little cross necklaces some of these despicable people wear for show. Pam Bondi for one. Karoline Leavitt for two.

Not exactly models of Christianity. Unless their bibles have a special section on the merits of fascism, viciousness and hypocrisy.

I have a special grudge against Karoline. In my career as a professional communicator, I often served as the company spokesperson. In some ways, it’s like being the conscience of the company.

Even when the news is bad, you have to find your organization’s truth and tell their story, and you have to tell it in a way that builds trust with your stakeholders – the public, customers, etc. We weren’t perfect, but we were always respectful to the media, and we didn’t blame them for our failures.

Karoline and these other spokespeople who work for Trump have made a mockery of this ideal. I think, well, they aren’t the conscience of the company, but then again, if the company is Trump, maybe they are. But it’s still a dagger to the heart of what I thought was an honorable career.

Back to food. Tomato season is in full swing. I made tomato pie, I start with a homemade biscuit crust and add well-drained sliced tomatoes, grated cheddar cheese, fresh basil, chopped chives and a sauce made from mayonnaise thinned with a little lemon juice. Top with more crust, slash and bake. 

It’s like tomato shortcake. We ate half of it Thursday, and we’re eating the other half tonight.

Our Saturday night show of late has been Poldark on PBS Passport. It’s one of the few shows Dale will watch, so that’s good. But then we had an argument about it, so that’s bad. I can’t understand how we can be so combative over things that don’t matter.

There’s a character in the show named Verity. The family doesn’t want her to marry the love of her life, and it’s turning out to be a very big deal. I couldn’t understand why, so I Googled it. I explained some of my findings to Dale, who was pissed. Why wouldn’t I just wait to see how the story unfolded?

OK, he’s got a point. I don’t know why I jumped the gun, but I guess I won’t be doing it again anytime soon. Without Dale’s expert guidance, I’ve been managing to watch Ballard on Amazon Prime. It’s a Harry Bosch spin-off, which is never a bad thing.

Speaking of Harry, I’m on the waiting list at the library for Nightshade, a new Michael Connelly book featuring a detective on Catalina Island.