Trying Out Car‑Free Living in Massachusetts

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Public transit bus on a quiet road surrounded by trees.

Trying Out Car‑Free Living in Massachusetts

For most of my adult life, having a car was just… normal. It sat in the driveway, ready for short errands, grocery runs, and the occasional appointment. But over the past year, the math stopped making sense. Between rising medical co‑pays, insurance rates that seem to go up just because they can, and Massachusetts’ infamous excise tax, I found myself paying more to own the car than I ever spent to drive it.

I was only putting a couple thousand miles a year on the odometer. A few trips to the store. A doctor’s appointment here and there. Nothing that justified the monthly insurance bill, the gas, the maintenance, the taxes, and the general “just in case” expense of keeping a vehicle I barely used.

And now that I’m retired, we can scratch the commuting part right off the list. Suddenly the car feels far less necessary. What used to be a “must‑have” has turned into an expensive convenience.

So I made a decision:
I turned in my car.

Not lost it.
Not had it taken away.
I chose to let it go.

And once I said it out loud, the reactions came pouring in.

Friends, neighbors, and even a few casual acquaintances had opinions — strong ones. Some thought it was smart. Others thought I was out of my mind. Joe told me about a woman he knows who ditched her car years ago and now uses Uber for everything. According to her, she saves a fortune and never has to worry about repairs, inspections, or surprise breakdowns. That story stuck with me.

So here I am, trying out car‑free living in Massachusetts to see how it goes.

Getting Around Without a Car

Massachusetts isn’t exactly known for smooth, seamless public transit, but it does have options — you just have to know where to look.
Don’t believe me? Just read my earlier post,
“Boston Transit – First in the Nation, Last to Arrive”
and you’ll see exactly what I mean.

Cabs, Uber, and Lyft

These are the obvious choices. They’re not cheap, but they’re reliable, and for short trips they’re still far less expensive than owning a car I barely used.

Dial‑A‑Ride

This one has already become a favorite. For $3.00 round‑trip, Dial‑A‑Ride will take me to the store and pick me up again. They send a text when the driver is on the way, and another when they’re one minute out. There’s a 15‑minute pickup window, but you can text “ETA” and get an instant update telling you exactly where you fall in that window. It’s surprisingly efficient and takes a lot of the guesswork out of waiting.

GATRA Bus System

The bus literally picks up on my corner and goes straight to Hannaford. Right now, the buses are free until June 30. After that, we’ll see if the politicians decide to renew the program. I’m hopeful, but I’m also realistic.

Delivery Services

Between Hannaford To Go, DoorDash, and Instacart, Uber eats, etc.  I can get groceries and essentials without needing to leave the house. It’s not something I want to rely on all the time, but it’s a great backup.

What About Travel?

Honestly, the only time I’d really need a car is if I start traveling again. And if that happens, I won’t be driving around Massachusetts — I’ll be renting a car somewhere far away, preferably somewhere warm, sunny, and blissfully free of excise taxes.

If I’m in a tropical paradise, I’m not bringing a Massachusetts car with me. I’ll rent one at the airport like everyone else.

And for the occasional local need, there’s the new kid on the block: Flexcar. It’s expensive, yes, but it doesn’t lock you into a long‑term lease or a car payment. Insurance is included, so there are no surprise bills. It’s a “use it when you need it” option, and that flexibility is worth something.

My First Dial‑A‑Ride Experience

I’ll admit, I was nervous the first time I scheduled a Dial‑A‑Ride trip. It felt strange to plan ahead for something I used to do on autopilot. But the process was easier than I expected. I called, booked the time, and waited.

The van pulled up right on schedule. The driver was friendly, the ride was smooth, and for the first time since turning in my car, I felt a little spark of confidence. Maybe this really can work.

 

So What’s Next?

Car‑free doesn’t mean light‑traveling. Some days I’m my own pack mule.

I’m not declaring myself permanently car‑free. This is an experiment — a practical, budget‑friendly, sanity‑preserving experiment. I’m learning as I go, adjusting where I need to, and discovering that life without a car isn’t the catastrophe some people imagine.

It’s different.
It takes planning.
But it’s doable.

And who knows?

Maybe this will be the start of a whole new chapter.

 

 

 

 

My Use-It-Up Dinner of Chicken Piccata

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Chicken piccata in a skillet waiting to be served

Back to Basics: My Makeshift Chicken Piccata

I haven’t shared a recipe in a while. It’s not because I haven’t been cooking — I have — but nothing new has been coming out of my kitchen lately. I’ve been in one of those same old, same old phases. I always fall into that after a couple of kitchen failures. When something flops, I retreat to my old standbys for comfort.

A Couple of Cookie Disasters

Recently I had two cookie mishaps in a row.
The first one was my fault — I misread the recipe. The second one? The only explanation I can come up with is that my oven temperature was off. What should have been soft, fluffy, cake‑like molasses cookies came out flat as a pancake. The best way to describe them is a thin, chewy ginger snap.

I’ve got an oven thermometer on the way, so hopefully that mystery gets solved soon. In the meantime, I’ve been keeping things pretty basic.

The Chicken Broth and Lemon Situation

Tonight I found myself staring at a nearly full box of chicken broth and two lemons that were about to give up on life. I needed to use them — but I didn’t have any veggies for a stir fry, and all I had was chicken breast. So… what to make?

I have tons of chicken recipes, but every one I pulled out needed something I didn’t have.
This one wanted white wine.
That one wanted broccoli.
Another wanted asparagus.

And then I saw it: Chicken Piccata.
I haven’t made it in ages. It’s easy, quick, and the leftovers warm up beautifully.

So that’s what I made — my makeshift dinner to use up the broth and lemons.

Chicken Piccata

Ingredients

Chicken:

  • 4 chicken breasts
  • ½ cup flour
  • 1 lemon
  • 2 tablespoons vegetable oil (olive oil recommended)
  • Salt and pepper to taste

For the Sauce:

  • ¼ cup butter
  • 1½ tablespoons flour
  • 1 cup chicken broth
  • ½ cup white wine or additional chicken broth
  • 2 tablespoons capers
  • 2 tablespoons fresh parsley

Instructions

  1. Prep the chicken:
    Place the chicken breasts between two sheets of plastic wrap and pound them to an even ½‑inch thickness.
  2. Dredge:
    Combine flour, lemon zest (zest ½ the lemon), salt, and pepper. Dredge the chicken in the flour mixture and set aside.
  3. Cook the chicken:
    Heat the oil in a large skillet over medium‑high heat. Cook the chicken 4–5 minutes per side, until just cooked through. Cook in batches if needed. Remove and set aside.
  4. Make the roux:
    In the same pan, melt the butter. Add the 1½ tablespoons of flour and whisk until smooth.
  5. Build the sauce:
    Gradually whisk in the chicken broth, a little at a time, until smooth.
  6. Add flavor:
    Add lemon juice, white wine (or more broth), and capers. Simmer for 3 minutes, whisking occasionally.
  7. Finish:
    Return the chicken to the pan and simmer 2–3 minutes more. Stir in parsley and serve over pasta.

And that, my friends, was my “use‑it‑up” dinner — born from leftover chicken broth and two lemons on their last legs. If you try it, let me know how yours turns out.

 

Zoomies and Kitty Chaos

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Dynamic cartoon of a gray cat running fast with looping motion trails, illustrating classic cat zoomies and high‑speed feline behavior.

The Zoomie Trigger

Around here, the zoomies don’t start because the cats are playful or energized or feeling frisky.
No.
In this house, the zoomies have a very specific trigger:

Someone has left a calling card in the litter box.

One of the boys finishes his business, steps out with great dignity, and then suddenly realizes:

“I have created a stink. I must escape my own crime.”

And that’s when the chaos begins.

Banner: The Aerodynamic Escape Artist

Banner is the main culprit. His zoomies aren’t just running — they’re a full‑scale production.

First, his tail drops. This is notable because Banner’s tail is normally straight up like a proud little flagpole. But apparently, when fleeing the scene of his own stink, he becomes a creature of pure physics.

I swear he’s thinking:

“I must reduce wind resistance. Speed is essential.”

Tail down.
Body low.
Banner becomes a furry missile.

Then the muttering starts — not meowing, not chirping, just steady commentary as he revs himself up. And then he launches, tearing through the condo like a horse exploding out of the starting gate.

 

The Cat Tree Must Pay for Its Crimes

No zoomie session is complete without Banner stopping mid‑sprint to absolutely punish the cat tree.

I don’t know what the cat tree ever did to him, but Banner treats it like it has personally offended him and must be brought to justice.

Once the tree has been properly chastised, he’s off again, tail kinked, paws flying, muttering the whole way.

Balboa: The Spock of the Living Room

Balboa sometimes joins in, turning it into a two‑cat stampede.
But more often, he perches on the back of the couch or a shelf, ears pricked forward, watching with deep feline fascination.

He looks exactly like Spock observing an unfamiliar lifeform.

I can practically hear the log entry:

“Feline Behavior Log, Stardate 2026.6.09.
The small one has once again initiated the Post‑Litterbox Escape Ritual.
His aerodynamic tail adjustment is… fascinating.”

If he had eyebrows, one would absolutely be raised.

If Only They’d Give Me a Warning

I always wish I could catch it on video, but zoomies don’t come with a warning. If cats could just give me ten seconds’ notice —

“Attention human, zoomies commencing, prepare recording device.”

— I’d have a whole YouTube channel by now.

Until then, I’ll keep trying to describe the chaos. Words don’t quite capture it, but Banner certainly tries his best to provide the sound effects.

Stunt Double Demonstration: Actual Banner zoomies may occur at higher speeds and with more complaining.

 

Disclaimer: No cats were harmed during this zoomie session. Stunt doubles were used for any scenes requiring stillness, cooperation, or the ability to hold a pose for more than 0.3 seconds.

 

World Ocean Day: The Night I Met the Mantas

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🌊A Morning Prompt That Sparked a MemoryManta Ray Adventure. Snorkle with the giants in Hawaii

A little morning card on my screen recently told me to “Celebrate World Oceanic Day.” Not a real holiday, not even close to June, but it nudged loose one of my favorite memories from the Big Island — the night I went snorkeling with manta rays. And if there’s ever a story worthy of World Ocean Day, it’s this one.

Waiting Out the Rain

It had started to rain while we waited to head out, the kind of soft Hawaiian drizzle that feels more like a suggestion than weather. One of the other snorkelers asked the dive master if we’d still be going out “if it rained.” I remember blinking at her. We were about to jump into the Pacific Ocean — getting wet was sort of the point.

Dusk on the Big Island

The boat drifted near shore as dusk settled in. We could see the lights from the Marriott stretching across the water, long gold streaks shimmering toward us as the sky deepened from blue to indigo. The air was warm, the kind of tropical warmth that wraps around you like a shawl. The crew moved with practiced ease, lowering a huge square frame of lights into the water. The glow sank beneath the surface like a stage being lit from below. The lights attract the plankton, and the plankton attract the mantas — a whole food chain choreographed for our front‑row seats.

Into the Water

With the light frame in place, we splashed in — one by one — each snorkeler taking hold of the frame and settling into an easy dead man’s float. The ocean was warm against my skin, and I listened to the subtle lapping of the waves as I drifted, face down, breathing slow and steady through my snorkel. The night felt soft as velvet, the kind of darkness that holds you rather than hides you.

When the Mantas Appeared

And then… there they were.

They came in silently, emerging from the darkness like ghosts with wings. Enormous, graceful, otherworldly. They moved with a kind of slow, deliberate elegance, sweeping in wide arcs beneath us. They were huge — impossibly huge — and apparently just as curious about us as we were about them. I had to remind myself to breathe. It felt like watching an underwater ballet, choreographed by creatures who had been dancing long before humans ever arrived on the islands.

A Moment I’ll Never Forget

Then came the moment we were all hoping for. One of those beautiful creatures rose from below and swam right up the length of my body, its wings brushing the water inches from my skin. As it reached my collarbone, it rolled into a perfect backflip, white belly glowing in the light, before drifting away again into the dark. For a heartbeat, it felt like we were sharing the same pulse.

A Glimpse of the Magic

Since I didn’t have an underwater camera, here’s a video that captures the magic better than I ever could.

Why World Ocean Day Matters

If you’ve never floated in the dark while a manta ray the size of a dining room table glides past your face, trust me — the ocean has a way of making you feel small in the best possible way.

If You Ever Find Yourself on the Big Island

If you ever find yourself on the Big Island of Hawaii, take the plunge. The manta experience is one you’ll remember for a lifetime.

 

Join me In my Southern Neighborhood of phrases and Slang

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A colorful, storybook-style neighborhood with bright houses, winding roads, green lawns, and distant snow‑capped mountains under a blue sky — a cheerful little town where our linguistic adventure begins.

Join me and my neighbors from the Hundred Acre Wood as we wander into the land of Southern country wisdom.

Good Morning, Neighbors

You all know I love regional phrases and slang. You’ve probably seen my earlier post, New England vs. The World – A Linguistic Nightmare. And with relatives scattered from Virginia to Florida, I’ve heard my fair share of Southern sayings. My very funny sister‑in‑law from Charleston, SC has more slang expressions than a monkey has uncles. Visiting with her is guaranteed laughter.

 

So today, I thought I’d take a little colloquial road trip. Even if I can’t get there in person, I can still travel with my ears open. Let’s see what we can find — and how different things might be from north to south.

Bless Your Heart

As a Northerner, I’ve never used this one — mostly because I don’t have the patience to insult someone politely. But Southerners? Oh, they’ve perfected it. “Bless your heart” is the Swiss Army knife of phrases: it can mean “you poor thing,” “you absolute fool,” or “I’m about to talk about you behind your back but in a Christian way.” Tone does all the heavy lifting.

Hold Your Horses

Now this one I’ve used. Loudly. Repeatedly. Usually while trying to get someone to stop doing something ill‑advised, like reaching for a hot pan or making a major life decision before coffee. No horses required — just a firm reminder that patience is a virtue and impulsiveness is… well, not.

Pretty as a Peach

A sweet little compliment that sounds like it should come with a glass of sweet tea and a porch swing. In the south it is truly  high praise, If someone calls you pretty as a peach, don’t ask questions. Just accept it gracefully and move on before they follow it with something less flattering.

 

Reckon

I reckon Sam knows what we mean

I’ve always thought of this as cowboy talk, but Southerners use it like punctuation. “I reckon” can mean I think, I guess, I’m not committing to this but I’ll say it anyway, or I’m about to lie politely. It’s flexible. It’s charming. It’s basically the duct tape of verbs.

Aren’t You Precious

This one is a trap wrapped in a smile. It sounds sweet enough to frost a cupcake, but most of the time it’s pure sarcasm delivered with perfect Southern politeness. Southerners pride themselves on hospitality, so they’d never be outright rude. But that little boy tormenting his sister? Oh, isn’t he just precious. Translation: stop acting like a little gremlin before I lose my religion.

’Til the Cows Come Home

This simply means “forever.” You’ll be waiting ’til the cows come home, and knowing cows, they’re in no hurry. They’ll wander back when they feel like it — which is exactly how long your patience will last.

Too Big for Your Britches

A classic from my childhood. And no, it never meant weight. It meant attitude. If Mom said you were getting too big for your britches, you were about two seconds away from being reminded who actually ran the house.

Happy as a Pig in Mud

Or, as my father preferred, the more colorful version. Either way, if someone says this about you, it means you’re having the time of your life — probably doing something incredibly messy, questionable, or both.

If the Creek Don’t Rise

My personal favorite. When I moved to Massachusetts and used this phrase, people looked at me like I’d just spoken in tongues. Even after Hurricane Irene turned Vermont into a water park, the phrase still didn’t click. But it’s perfect: “God willing and the creek don’t rise, I’ll be there.” It’s hope, humor, and realism all in one line.

Closing Thoughts

Regional sayings are little postcards from the places they come from — tiny pieces of culture tucked into everyday speech. Whether you’re from New England, the Deep South, or somewhere in between, these phrases carry humor, history, and a whole lot of personality. And even if we don’t all use the same expressions, we can still appreciate the charm behind them. After all, language is one of the best road trips we can take without ever leaving home.