78 Degrees

July 3, 2026 — Pat Bertram

There’s not much to laugh about when it comes to socialistic energy restrictions, or even simply grids so old that such restrictions are necessary, but I do find the current 78˚ restriction in some places amusing. For most of my life, despite living in the intense heat of Colorado summers, I didn’t have air conditioning at all, so 90+ temperatures in the house weren’t that uncommon. I’ve also lived a couple of places with air conditioning, but the person in control of the thermostat blasted air into the room so icy that I had to close the vents.

Now that I have air-conditioning and control of the thermostat, I have it set at 80. Sometimes, if I’m hot, I’ll lower it to 79, especially since my “office” is the least cool room in the house, but usually the room fan works as well as lowering the temperature.

Even if this weren’t a temperature I could get used to, I’d probably do it anyway. During my years (decades!) of no air-conditioning, I learned that the warmer the inside temperature, the less impact walking out into the heat has on one’s system. Going from hot to a blasting air-conditioner or from refrigerated air to extreme heat can be dangerous. For most people, the physiological stress is brief, but for others, it can strain the heart and worsen cardiovascular and respiratory conditions. And even if it weren’t dangerous, it’s easier to adapt to the outside temperature when the difference isn’t so great.

Too be honest, though, if a communist mayor were to tell me to raise my thermostat to 78˚, I’d lower my usual temperature to that setting just as a rebellion.

Or maybe not. Paying out money I don’t have to make a point seems silly. And anyway, I prefer to be able to set the temperature to my preference even if it does fit into someone else’s agenda. Having the choice is something to celebrate, especially during this holiday weekend when we’re celebrating 250 years of freedom.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in culture, dealing with old age, home, life, writing. Tags: , , . 6 Comments »

Not Burning Down My House

June 29, 2026 — Pat Bertram

A few weeks ago, I burned a pan. It was the whole circus — smoke everywhere, screaming smoke alarms, me running around pulling the pan off the stove, opening windows, turning on fans. So fun! Well, no. I’m being facetious. It was the opposite of fun. One of the worst things for me is that because of Colorado laws regulating placements of smoke alarms, I have four within a few feet of each other — one outside the kitchen, one in the hall, one in each bedroom. All those alarms would make sense if my house was bigger but considering that all the rooms open into a very short hallway, it makes no sense at all. Especially since my overly sensitive nose detected the smoke before the alarms. But sheesh! The noise that all four of those alarms make at the same time is enough to deafen any post that wasn’t already deaf.

I had to toss the pan. There was just no way to clean it. I blamed myself for the mess, of course, because there’s no one here but me, but I didn’t think I was that negligent. That made the situation worse — thinking that perhaps I was losing it, whatever “it” is. My mind? My focus? My reactions?

Anyway, I bought a replacement pan, the same brand because I liked that pan. And what do you know — the first time I used it, the same thing happened. Smoke. Alarms. Running around opening windows and turning on fans. And again, I had to toss the pan. So, when it came time to buy a new one, I got a different brand. I don’t like the pan as well, but at least, I wasn’t burning it, though it did seem to heat up mighty fast and cook quickly, so I had to stand over it to make sure everything was okay.

A couple days ago, I briefly heated the pan with a touch of butter, poured in beaten eggs, and those eggs cooked immediately. I mean, ready to eat in seconds.

Then it finally dawned on me: the problem wasn’t the pans. Nor was the problem me. The problem was the stove. The element heated up and kept heating up, and I realized then that it had lost its ability to regulate the temperature.

I called my appliance insurance people. I didn’t expect anything because the last time I called them about an appliance, they told me they didn’t cover that sort of appliance anymore. I’d argued, mentioning that my insurance was up to date and that I’d never got a notification of any cancellation, but to no avail. As it turned out, they’d discontinued it just the week before. Yeah, typical.

So I was surprised when they came out the very next day, agreed with me that the rheostat was shot, said they’d order one and would be back the next day. And they were. Yay! Now I have to get used to the stove all over again because it heats up a lot slower than it had been.

I’m sure I paid way more in insurance than the bill would have been, but I got the insurance for someone to call, sort of like having someone on a retainer. The closest repair people are in the next town over, and they’ve never returned any of my calls — hence the insurance.

I’m not sure where I’m going with this or why I’m chronicling this episode. There’s certainly no moral to be gleaned, no real point to the story, but it is part of the “day in the life of” series of posts I used to do before I got sidetracked into paying attention to what’s going on in the world.

Luckily, my stove story had a happy ending. It’s the sort of thing that could have ended with a burning house and me out cold from smoke inhalation. I’m grateful that it wasn’t my mind giving up on me that caused the problem. Grateful to know my response time is still good. Grateful to know that my insurance wasn’t cancelled the week before. Grateful for a lot of things. Which, perhaps, is the point of this essay after all.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, home, house, life, writing. Tags: , , , , . 4 Comments »

Happy First Day of Summer

June 21, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Today is the first day of summer, and I’m still not acclimated to Daylight Saving Time. It’s too light too late for my body to understand what it’s supposed to do. Usually in the early evening, even before the sun has set, the day is winding down into a gentle twilight, not being revved up by a continuing glare. I’m sure this has always been the case at the beginning of summer, but in previous years, either I didn’t notice the light, or I unconsciously made the physical adjustments.

Not this year.

This year the clues as to what I’m supposed to be doing at the close of day are all wrong. Is it late afternoon? Early evening? Almost night? I don’t know. Of course, a clock would tell me the truth — or at least the way it sees the truth — but the light cues don’t bother to tell me to look at the clock.

Oh, well. This certainly isn’t the worst thing that’s ever happened to me — not even close. Nor is it the most confusing. It is, however, a bit puzzling since I had no idea I’d ever even experienced “light cues.” At least not in the summer. In winter, of course, when it gets dark at 4:30, it’s obvious that I need to turn on lights, wind down, gradually end the day’s activities.

I suppose this could be another of those weird signs of age, like getting up to do something and forgetting to do it or not adjusting to outside forces as quickly as I once did. (Outside forces being weather or variable inside temperatures or interruptions or any of a number of things that never used to faze me.)

I’m not complaining, at least I don’t think I am. I’m just making an observation. Of course, by the time I get used to this late evening glare, the creeping darkness will have begun to do its thing, and I’ll be complaining about how quickly it gets dark.

But that’s my prerogative. (Hey! I spelled it correctly! For some reason, for most of my life, I thought the first syllable was spelled “per,” and frankly, without spellcheck I probably would never have discovered I was spelling the word wrong.)

Anyway, despite the confusing light cues, I’m doing okay. As is my yard. No swaths of sunburnt grass or plants yet. I’m hoping the weather folk are right about this being an El Nino year and we actually get a monsoon season for a change. That would be lovely. Still, whatever happens, today is the beginning of a new season with all its possibilities.

Happy first day of summer!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One.

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, life. Tags: , , , , , . 5 Comments »

Growing

June 18, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
What is one way you have grown this year?
View all responses

One way I have grown this year? Older. I’ve grown older. I don’t really feel any older than I did a year ago, but there is one indication of that growth: some things don’t heal as fast as they once did. Well, one thing — sinus congestion. So far, I’ve tried just about every possibility, both medical and natural, and still, I have that sinus pressure and post-nasal drip. I’m waiting it out now, hoping it will cure itself. It did once upon a time — when I was young, I had allergies so bad I was almost comatose, but for some reason, I got over it. Maybe I will again.

Maybe not.

That acceptance of what life deals out is part of growth, I suppose, though such acceptance isn’t a recent growth experience for me — it came from years of grief over my various losses and all the living that followed.

I’m sure this blog prompt is about personal growth, though I tend to think I’ve grown up as much as I am going to get. I’m not even sure I want to develop further. At this point, will any sort of growth make my life better? I suppose it’s possible, but I also suppose it’s possible that a period of de-growth will be coming as I continue to age. I hope not — I appreciate the lessons I’ve learned in life, and I hang on to whatever wisdom I gleaned from them. I’d hate to think I’d forget those lessons and have to learn them again. It was painful enough the first time!

Personal growth supposedly contributes to fulfillment, self-awareness, mindfulness, well-being and happiness, which I’m all for when it comes to younger people, and was all for when I was young. But me now? I’m as self-aware as I want to be (any more awareness would turn me too far inward); I try to be mindful whatever I am doing for safety’s sake if nothing else; I have as much fulfillment as I can handle; and my sense of well-being is doing as well as can be expected. Does that sound smug? I don’t mean to be. I am grateful for where I am in life.

Gratitude. Acceptance. Mindfulness. Those are all lessons I’ve learned, things I practice. That seems enough. For now, anyway.

As it is, the only growth I celebrate is what is in my garden. That sort of growth I can get behind!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, dealing with old age, gardening, life. Tags: , , , , , , , , . 4 Comments »

Eight Years Ago

June 16, 2026 — Pat Bertram

I hadn’t realized it until my blog reminded me, but my Pacific Crest Trail backpacking trip was eight years ago. Actually, the blog detailing the trip was written exactly eight years ago today, so I can only presume that the trip was a day or two before that, but still, it’s close enough.

It’s funny that eight years doesn’t seem that long ago. When I’ve mentioned hiking and backpacking, people nod at me, thinking it was when I was young, and I might have been younger eight years ago, but I was still climbing up in years while I was climbing up those hills.

What surprised me about the blog post, No Resfeber for the Weary, was the reminder that I took the overnight hiking trip in June. In the desert. What was I thinking? I also remember that I was just getting over a cold, so again, what was I thinking?

I do remember, come to think of it. I was thinking that if I didn’t do the backpacking trip then, I never would. And I was mentally ready.

Apparently, despite my hiking with a filled backpack for months before that in preparation, I wasn’t really physically prepared. Since I’d planned to be gone for several nights, I needed to carry one heck of a lot of water because there was no water up in those hills. I wish I could have been out longer than that one night — it really was incredible being by myself on that isolated trail, camping alone out in the middle of nowhere — but physically, I gave out. I’d heard of “hitting the wall,” but had never felt it. And then I did. Hit the wall, I mean. I was lucky I didn’t tip over and fall down a mountainside. Oddly, I wasn’t sore. Just unable to move.

My one regret is that I was never able to do a long backpacking trip, but I am very glad I managed to do that particular overnight trip. Hiking, of course, wasn’t anything new, nor was camping, but the combination of the two was what made it an unforgettable experience.

I was right about that being my only chance. Exactly one month later, my homeless brother died, which in a roundabout way changed my life. And now here I am, a thousand miles away from where I hiked that day, living in my own house, tending my garden, and trying to hold back the years still creeping up on me.

After Jeff died, I was determined to live despite the agony and angst of grief. I didn’t want to waste the years of freedom he gave me (his dying freed me from further care and I’ve always been cognizant of that sacrifice, involuntarily though it might have been). And looking back, not just at the past eight years, but the eight years before that, I see how much I have done. I bet he’d have been glad I experienced life in the way that I did — he felt bad that the constraints of his illness stole my spontaneity from me, and I made sure that I got it back so he wouldn’t have to feel bad. (Odd how that worked — he was gone and it wouldn’t have mattered to him, but it mattered to me.)

I’ve lost that spontaneity again, at least mostly. I’m certainly not going on any backpacking trips (though I still have all the equipment, just in case), but then, I have nothing left to prove to me or to anyone. Nothing left to make up for, either.

Still, I do sometimes dream of a long trail hike, and I wonder . . .

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in Adventure, dealing with old age, grief, life. Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , . 8 Comments »

Self-Censorship

May 30, 2026 — Pat Bertram

You’d think that someone who says she writes for herself would write whatever she wants, and that would be true if I saved the writing for myself alone as I did with the journal I kept after Jeff died. Once a piece is written, however, and I go to post it, things change. Suddenly, it’s not just for me but for anyone who wants to take a peek into my life and thoughts and emotions.

For example, I tend to stay away from anything controversial, and if by chance I happen to mention something that could be construed as political, I edit it out because it’s just not worth the backlash. So perhaps it’s not self-censorship so much as it is simply editing to make a more universally accepted piece. Or do I mean peace?

Either way, I do sometimes second guess what I write, not just when it involves world affairs, but also when it involves people in my life, especially if I know they read this blog. In fact, I’m sitting here right now debating about whether or not I should mention something that recently happened. (Apparently, I decided to go ahead with the article, because here I am.)

A few days ago, I accompanied a friend to an appointment. I’ve driven with her hundreds of miles over the years, so I’m familiar with her driving, and I’ve never been concerned about safety, but that day, she was driving erratically, swerving from lane to lane, cutting in front of cars she apparently couldn’t see, seemed to have no depth perception, had a hard time hearing, could barely handle the steering wheel. Bizarrely, she had no idea what she was doing. To her, all was fine, she was just tired after a sleepless night. In fact, when I later mentioned that it would have been better to have cancelled the appointment, she said she had no idea there was any need.

I wondered if she’d been having a mini stroke, so when she next went to the doctor, I urged her to tell him the story. She did. What she discovered is that all out-of-whackness was caused her insomnia the previous night.

That is why this story is important and why, even though I worry my friend might think my writing this might be a betrayal, I ignored my inclination for self-censorship and posted it anyway. If you have a sleepless night, especially if you are getting up in years, please stay home even if you feel fine. Truly, the symptoms she showed were traumatic and life-threatening (for me too) and are common side effects of a sleepless night. It makes me wonder how many people are going about their lives as if everything is fine, when in fact, it isn’t.

I’m lucky in that I don’t worry about not sleeping. If I have a rare sleepless night, I just stay home the next day. And if I ever can’t because of an appointment, I hope I am as smart as I am urging you to be and cancel the appointment.

It’s funny how small things can have such devastating effects. We never think of a sleepless night as being life threatening in the short run, but it is or it can be.

So be careful. Please. And don’t drive if you’ve had a sleepless night.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in blogging, dealing with old age, history/myth, life. Tags: , , , , . 13 Comments »

Dealing With Life

May 18, 2026 — Pat Bertram

It seems as if I’ve been doing a lot of blogging lately about my ideal life, though sometimes it was only because those blog prompts came up and I felt as if I had something to say. Other times it was because that particular day did feel ideal. It’s made me wonder, though, if I sounded smug with all that “ideal life” talk. For those of you who have been with me all through my years of grief over Jeff, over the loss of my father and my older brother, the loss of whatever stability I’d found, you know that my current ideal life has been hard won. The posts are more about gratitude for finding a safe haven than about congratulating myself on winning the “life” lottery.

I also know, as do you, how quickly life can change. One day one is the midst of the most terrible angst imaginable, and the next day one is okay. Well, not the next day, though from my perspective today, it can feel like it. But I have thousands of blog posts archived under the heading “grief posts” to show the truth of how many days separated the days of angst from these days of peace.

These “ideal life” posts are strictly about today. I hope no matter what traumas descend on me in the future, these days of gratitude and peace will help give me the courage to face what might come. I can hope, of course, for many years of this “ideal life,” but life tends not to take our hopes into consideration. Though who knows — some people believe we create our own reality, so perhaps these “ideal life” posts are helping create a future that is as easy as my life is today.

It is funny, though, that I am going through a time of relative freedom from body malfunctions and pain. There have been episodes over the past few years of knee problems, piriformis muscle and tendon issues, and various other trivialities (considering the life/death spectrum). I’ve managed to find a way to handle whatever has come my way, and currently there is a weird bout of catarrh that comes and goes, probably due to allergies, but for the most part, there are no malfunctions for me to deal with. That will change, too, but again, I am grateful for these days of ease (as opposed to dis-ease). And in fact, they should be celebrated despite any hint of what could be conceived as smugness.

Do I “deserve” these days? Who knows. Does anyone “deserve” anything that happens to them? Life is just . . . life. We deal with the good as well as the bad, though to be honest, the good is a whole heck of a lot easier to deal with!

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in blogging, dealing with old age, home, life. Tags: , , , . 4 Comments »

Learning Something New

May 17, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
How do you stay motivated when learning something new?
View all responses

This must be a question for people who are forced to learn things they don’t want to, such as for school or work or new technology, because otherwise it makes no sense. At least not for me. Learning something new has always been its own motivation. Now that I think about it, learning something new seems as if it is sort of the point of life. If we never learn anything new, where would we be? Lolling around in oversized cribs, I imagine, crying from sheer boredom.

The joy of learning is written in our genes. That’s obvious if you’ve ever watched babies, newly sprung from their playpens, crawling all over, learning new things, trying to pull themselves up. And oh, that grin of sheer pride and joy when they manage that first step. They didn’t need to stay motivated, the learning itself was the goal, though encouragement from their parents never hurt. Obviously, there are some things babies need to learn that perhaps they don’t want to, such as using the potty or not touching the pretty fire, but for the most part, babies learn because they want to. Because to them, learning is playing, and playing is learning.

There is an old quote: we don’t stop playing because we grow old, we grow old because we stop playing. I never liked that quote because it’s too specious, too simplistic, too out of touch with reality. Look at professional athletes. They have to stop playing because they get too old to be able to compete with younger players, not the other way around.

Now, if I were to substitute “learning” for playing, then that quote makes sense, though again, it doesn’t always hold true. Often the elderly can no longer learn because of growing cognitive issues, but still, I tend to think curiosity (and boredom) does motivate people of any age to learn new things. Besides, whether we want to or not, we have to continue learning as we age if only to learn how to do things we once did with ease but that now seem complicated, like opening jars or bending to pick something up. For sure we have to learn how to be mindful or else a reckless step can lead to disaster.

Since writing this has convinced me of the importance of learning — with or without a need for motivation — I’m sitting here trying to think what I’ve recently learned, but I can’t really think of anything. At least nothing fun. I learned a lot of fun things in the past decade — dancing, camping, buying a house, taking care of a house, the tarot, landscaping, gardening — but not so much today except for small things I learn while reading or gardening or doing puzzles. The only specific thing I can think of is that I am learning more of the history of the middle east than I ever cared to know. I never did understand anything of their history or who they were or why they did what they did — it was simply too confusing, uninteresting, and of no particular value to my life, but now I’m seeing a much broader picture, one that dates back almost to the first days of civilization, but specifically back to the 7th century. Is it important to know the history? Only if I want to know the historical reasons for a lot of today’s events, which I don’t, not really. But it is learning, so that’s good.

What I need is to find something new to learn. Something I want to learn just for the fun of learning, something I don’t have to worry about motivating myself to learn. Though what that might be, I don’t know, because if I did know, I’d already be learning it.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in blogging, dealing with old age, history/myth, life. Tags: , , , , , . 2 Comments »

My Ideal Life

May 9, 2026 — Pat Bertram
Daily writing prompt
If you had to describe your ideal life, what would it look like?
View all responses

If I had to describe my ideal life today, it would actually look like my life today, but that description has changed over the years.

If I had to describe my ideal life when I was a child, it would have been no chores and time to read all I wanted. And dessert after every meal.

If I had to describe my ideal life when I was a young adult, it would probably have been a job I loved that paid me a ton of money so that I could save enough to quit my job and read all I want. And yes, dessert after dinner.

In my middle years, my ideal life would have been how things were when Jeff was doing well — playing games together, working together, and making enough to get by. Ideally, we would have made enough not to have had to worry about neither of us working when he wasn’t doing well. Still, during those intervals, I had plenty of time to read, though not always money for dessert every evening.

Now, that I have grown up (actually more than grown up — I’ve almost grown to the stage of spoilage), and now that I have realigned my life after losing Jeff, my parents and my older brother, I can’t imagine any life other than the one I have. And rightly so. For me, it’s . . . ideal. Truly.

For example, this morning, after my stretching exercises, I went outside and mowed the lawn. I talked to one neighbor who crossed the street to chat, saw another neighbor out walking, and she stopped to chat. I watered the petunias I’d purchased yesterday morning and planted yesterday afternoon, then wandered around my yard, marveling at being able to live in such a fairytale environment.

Admittedly, the yard does take work, but right now, it’s easy enough to make the effort. Besides, the work I did today wasn’t work so much as an excuse to be outside in the clement weather, especially after the past two days of inclement weather.

Although I have time to read, I’ve run out of books I want to read, have no interest in scouring the shelves of the local library for more books I have no interest in reading, so I’ve been rereading the few books in my own library. And that dessert after every meal? I could have it of course, but then there’s the issue of my being smart enough not to indulge. But those “ideals” were left over from my childhood, so doing without isn’t an issue. Other things take their place. Blogging. Solving pencil puzzles. Painting by number. Gardening. Sometimes even visits with friends, whether impromptu or planned.

Best of all, I know that this is an ideal life. Since I’m in the aforementioned state of spoilage, I have no idea how long this particular phase of my life will last, though I tend to think that whatever happens, since I’m in the habit of being grateful for whatever life I have, I’ll find that an ideal life, too. Eventually, anyway. And if not, well, that life is in the future, and the future is up for grabs.

But I do know what today is like since I’m living it, and for me, it is the ideal life.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, blogging, dealing with old age, gardening, life. Tags: , , , , , . 3 Comments »

Decision Fatigue Redux

April 27, 2026 — Pat Bertram

Here’s irony for you. Yesterday I wrote about decision fatigue and counted myself lucky that I have so few decisions to make. Today, I’m sitting here at the computer, staring at a pretend piece of blank paper, sorting through a multitude of options, trying to decide what I want to write about. And it is making me so very fatigued!

So much is going on out there in the real world that I could talk about, maybe even should talk about — not so much what is happening, but my reactions to the reactions of what is happening. Are people really so unhinged nowadays they bemoan that an assassination attempt failed, while others demand that next time they find better shooters, and still others scream “staged”? And are so many as blasé as they seem, that such behavior (both the attempt and the aftermath) is so expected, that it’s simply ho-hum?

None of this behavior is anything I want to deal with. It certainly makes me determined to take better care of myself. Many of the people teetering on the edge (and some that have flat-out fallen on the side of derangement) are in the age group and even the profession, that will be the caretakers of my generation. Crikey, I so do not want to have to deal them now — I can’t imagine being dependent on such people in my feeble old age. Luckily, unbalanced and heartless folk seem to be a minority (at least, I hope they are). Even luckier (if it can be called luck) my limited finances won’t support such care, which again comes down to my taking better care of myself.

After all my waffling about what to write about, I made my decision. There’s nothing I can do about anything that’s going on and nothing I write is going to make any difference, so I’m going to shut down my computer, turn off the outside world, tune into my own world, do the best I can for myself, and make this a peaceful day.

Wishing the same for you.

***

Pat Bertram is the author of Grief: The Inside Story – A Guide to Surviving the Loss of a Loved One

Posted in being me, blogging, dealing with old age, internet, life, writing. Tags: , , , , . 3 Comments »
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