Diane Laney Fitzpatrick

Writer, blogger, author and humorist

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Retirement. Aaaand scene

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At this, the three-month point of retirement life, I’m starting to get a real feel for the ins and outs; the pros and cons;  the good, the bad and the squeamishly butt-ugly.

I can’t tell you all the secrets (I’d have to kill you and don’t think I couldn’t, with the expired dairy products in my frig) but I can offer you a glimpse into what it’s like to have your husband of thirty-six years unemployed and home all day, and not because he’s unskilled and just out of rehab; but because you both thought it sounded like a swell idea for him to retire early.

And it is swell. Seriously. For us, the timing was right, despite the fact that we’re both fairly immature and probably don’t deserve to have all this unsupervised time on our hands outside of the yard in prison.

It’s swell. [Read more…] about Retirement. Aaaand scene

Wintry Mix Is Not a Cocktail in the Lodge Bar at Tahoe

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They’re calling it the Deep Freeze of 2019. I’m calling it Okay So Our Mailman is Purple Now.  I’m not going to rattle off the highs and lows, talk about low pressure zones in the Arctic, or mention what a polar vortex is. If you want to hear that, you’ll have to get your ass over here to my house and be in the kitchen for my husband’s quarter-hourly reports.

“It’s eight in Lexington,” he said yesterday, apropos of nothing. We were sitting at our tiny kitchen table pretending to read The Economist and old Winston Churchill speeches. In actuality, he was on  Fun Facts for Kids on Weather and I was playing Picture Cross and watching Dance Moms with the sound off. “And it’s going down to two  by the end of the week!”

“Mmmmmm,” I tried hard to express exactly how little interest I had in the weather in Kentucky and still use no more than one mouth sound.

“That’s Lexington Kentucky, not Mass,” he said dramatically.

“MMMMMMM.” It came out like a growl.

Hearing how shitty the weather is this winter is just another test for me; a test of my new life resolution; a resolution I started in December because I was starting a new life; a new life in a new place; and that place has winter out the ass. [Read more…] about Wintry Mix Is Not a Cocktail in the Lodge Bar at Tahoe

Keep Calm and Move to Cleveland

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In case anyone was wondering why I look so tired in recent pictures, I moved again. From San Francisco, where I lived in the heart of a city outsiders see as a glittering, real-life movie set, to Cleveland, known for weather extremes, closed factories and ham loaf.

Of course, neither of those stereotypes is true. But don’t tell the others. Now that I’m back in Northeast Ohio, I am enjoying the novelty of being someone who left California to retire to Ohio in the winter on the brink of a recession. People’s reaction is heady stuff. If everyone did it, I’d be just like everybody else and not the spokesmodel for contrarianism that I am.

I’ll be honest. Our life in San Francisco was pretty sweet. But it had to end sometime. I was on the brink of gout and alcoholism and was spending too much money on sushi and shoes. We were eating out so much that I was going eight days before the dishwasher was full enough to run and it was full of just wine glasses. I’m not saying my life in San Francisco was a social whirlwind, but I once reached into my good coat pocket and found a rhinestone, a false eyelash and a magician’s Jack of hearts with my name on it. [Read more…] about Keep Calm and Move to Cleveland

I Am Literally Choking on TV

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Our cable internet was becoming very spotty. Things kept cutting out, freezing up, leaving the talking heads on CNN paralyzed mid-weird-mouth position for an uncomfortable number of seconds.

“Gah! I missed the end of his sentence. Now I’ll never know what that unnamed source said to that other anonymous leaker about the alleged unconfirmed dossier.”

My husband gave me specific instructions. “Tomorrow, call Comcast and tell them what’s happening. I think they’re throttling us. Come right out and ask them if they’re throttling us.”

I was spooning chicken into lettuce cups while I kept my eyes and ears on my laptop, live-streaming twenty-four hour news on my kitchen counter.  And because I can’t concentrate on three things at a time, even when one of the things is something a one-armed monkey with developmental disabilities could do, I repeated back, “Call Comcast. Are they throttling us. . .” [Read more…] about I Am Literally Choking on TV

Let It Be, And I’m Not Kidding Around

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Paul McCartney’s story about how he came up with the lyrics to Let It Be had everyone in the country in tears. As he told James Corden on Carpool Karaoke recently, he was worried about the future and during a fitful night’s sleep, he dreamed of his late mother, who told him to just let it be. Paul dropped that bombshell and then cracked a joke about wearing a mustache disguise. And that episode of Carpool Karaoke became an overnight sensation.

“I laughed!” everyone said.

“I cried!” other people said.

“I got a stress headache and my IBS flared up!” I said.

Aaaaand the room falls silent.

I’m not the only one who becomes anxious when hearing a song whose lyrics literally translate to Don’t Be Anxious. I am guessing the other members of the 1974 Hubbard High School A’ Capella Choir have the same reaction.

The choir director at my high school during my freshman and sophomore years was Mr. Pat. I’m not going to use his real, full name because I understand he owns a lot of guns now. But even when a conductor’s baton and a gradebook were his most lethal weapons, he was the scariest teacher we loved. [Read more…] about Let It Be, And I’m Not Kidding Around

A Life of Crime Is Not For Me

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My husband and I were in a hotel recently and I was forced into a life of crime, once again reminded that I would make a terrible bad guy.

Housekeeping forgot to replenish our shampoo and conditioner one morning, and we were running low. Making a request would have required a phone call down to the hotel desk, which I despise. Calling down to the desk makes me feel like Eloise’s mother. I am barely comfortable having other people make my bed; Being the lady who picks up the phone and says, “Hello, this is Mrs. Fitzpatrick in Room 712” may as well just continue with “I’d like my peeled grapes brought up immediately. And could James bring the Rolls around. I’m luncheoning with Cary Grant at 1. Thingyow.”

I spotted the housekeeping caravan in the hallway. It was unattended. The housekeeper was apparently in one of the nearby rooms with the door closed.

“Grab some shampoo and conditioner off that cart,” my husband said.

“But there’s no one with it. Shouldn’t I ask? Or at least explain why I’m taking it? I want them to know they didn’t give us any today. I don’t want them to think I’m stealing it.”

“Oh my god,” my husband said. “No one is looking. Just take it. And grab a couple extra waters while you’re at it.”

“Waters???” My chest started to tighten. This was all just too much. What did he think this was, a spree? [Read more…] about A Life of Crime Is Not For Me