Month: August 2018

Jobless and loving it (sort of)

Nearly every day I tell myself how happy I am to be retired. I don’t miss my job. The nest egg is in good shape, I have lots of hobbies and am having fun. However, at times I miss feeling successful.

The thing is, I never achieved the level of success I aspired to, so I’m not sure what I am missing. I did very well in my career over the long haul and found satisfaction in knowing I used my skills well and accomplished more than anyone else expected of me. Still, I left some opportunity on the table.

Should I go back to work? I looked at jobs online today to see if anything sounded interesting. I saw one job requiring “grit” and “a nearly insane level of attention to detail.” Sure, that could be me on a good day. More than likely it’s not.

Reading through job descriptions, there’s strong demand for passionate self-starters who can roll up their sleeves and collaborate with a fast-paced global team. I used to write this crap – and reading it now cured me of the itch to find a job.

Perhaps it’s not the feeling of success I miss but the feeling of knowing what success looked like. In the workplace, the path to success is mostly linear, and it points up.

That seemed doable to me, so I set my eyes on the prize and worked hard. Sometimes I fell short of my hopes and dreams, and other times I wildly exceeded even my own expectations. But I had the map, I had a compass and I stayed on the trail. There were prizes along the way and incentives to keep going.

By the time I retired, I had lots of prizes, but my bullshit meter was pegged.

In a career limiting development, these days there’s not much of a gap between my inside voice and my outside voice. I wanted to do something different with the last third of my life anyway, so I retired as soon as the math worked out.

I’m coming up on the one-year mark, and I’ve learned retirement doesn’t come with a map or compass. Many of us traded our talents for money and security. I certainly did, and I have no regrets. But I am still driven to reach my full potential, whatever that is, and now I have to figure it out all by my own self. I have a feeling I’m not alone.

After a long career of orderly achievements, some of us will have to work at understanding what it means to be successful in this chapter of our lives. We’re used to managing big projects, and now the project is us.

So, yes, I would get a job if I had to or an unbelievable opportunity came knocking, but I don’t want to work because it’s a safe retreat into familiar territory. I’d rather deconstruct retirement and figure out what’s next. As Gandalf said, all we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.

And if there is no next big thing, that might be OK, too. Whatever passions drive you, maybe the answer is to keep driving. Maybe that’s enough. I have a note to myself on my desk that says, “When all else fails, just write. Just write.”

Thank you for reading my stuff! It’s a pleasure to connect with the wonderful community of people who find their way to these pages.

Seasonal foodie dreams

The hottest part of summer is seemingly over where I live, and we are experiencing delightfully cool mornings and toasty warm afternoons. Apparently, the weather was contributing to my sinus headaches, which have now gone away. I assume that means it was not a brain tumor. Another year to live!

We rarely go out to eat, but one of my favorite treats is supermarket sushi. I felt like celebrating today. Not sure why, but why not? Our local market makes sushi fresh every day, and it’s a darn tasty lunch, especially when it’s sunny and warm but not too hot to sit outside and enjoy it.

I’ll miss summer, but fall is my favorite food season. Dale and I both get the urge to cook up a storm. We have some lovely fresh spinach, so I thought I’d make a spinach souffle for dinner tonight accompanied by some sliced fresh tomatoes from the farmers market. The tomatoes are primo right now, and it sounded like a great meal to bridge the seasons.

Very soon I will have to start thinking about serious fall food, including soup. I have several chicken carcasses taking up valuable real estate in the freezer, so it’s time to make a big batch of stock. My favorite soup recipes are from Superfood Soups and Blue Zones.

Dale is getting fired up, too. He purchased raw peanuts and began his process for roasting. He brines them, dries them with fans out in the garage and then roasts them in the oven. And they are spectacular. It’s like a gun pointed to our heads until they’re gone. The fresh peanuts are usually available until Christmas, and by then we hate ourselves anyway, so it’s nature’s way of saying we’ve had enough.

He also took a pork shoulder out of the freezer for Chiapas Roast Pork. Dale uses a Diana Kennedy recipe from Mexican Regional Cooking. The meat is marinated and then cooked in the oven in a spicy chile sauce until is pull-apart tender and then served with shredded romaine lettuce and onions on freshly made tortillas. I make blue corn tortillas from scratch to accompany this dish.

Ah, seasonal foodie dreams. Tamale pie. Stuffed cabbage. Anything with pumpkin, especially the savory dishes. Chile verde. Sausage and navy bean soup. Corned beef hash. Mushroom lasagna. Roasted kabocha squash. Short ribs braised in red wine. Even retro dishes such as beef stroganoff and chicken divan — so comforting.

It’s your turn! We would all love to hear about your favorite fall foods. What deliciousness are you planning as the temperatures start to drop?

Still rocking the silver

During my recent travels, one person said she loved the color of my hair and another said it’s too long and needs to be cut. I loved the positive feedback on my silver, although I’m in favor of other people dying their hair if they want to. However, the haircut comment got me thinking.

Maybe it’s time for a refresh, I thought. I wasted several hours looking online at new styles, and nothing spoke to me. Bobs, lobs, you name it. I even considered bangs. Then I went into the bathroom and stood in front of the mirror, and I said to no one in particular, “I fail to find anything wrong with my hair.”

Wow! Think of all the years many of us have spent loathing our hair and our bodies and everything else, only to arrive at a point of acceptance and satisfaction. I’ve had this style for several years now, and I think it suits me perfectly. I especially love that it’s low maintenance — an important consideration in retirement! Never say never, but I’m going to trust myself on this one and leave my hair alone.

By the way, I went gray about 10 years ago, and it didn’t seem to hurt my career in the slightest. I did blow it smooth when I was working, while now I’m a bit more bohemian. Gray or not, long or short, I say focus on what makes you happy and learn to tune out kindly suggestions that don’t meet your needs.

A tale of two pretzels

Dale and I both like pretzels, although he gets extra salty, and I like extra dark. My all-time favorites were little multigrain nuggets with sesame seeds from Trader Joe’s, but they discontinued them, and nothing has been the same since. I’ll take my almost-burnt pretzels as a runner-up.

We usually keep them in stock, but somehow both kinds mysteriously disappeared from the drawer where we keep them. I was away Monday night for a golf outing, and when I returned Tuesday, I noticed a bright new bag of extra salty pretzels but none of the extra dark.

Here we go again.

I said, “I noticed you replenished your pretzel supply. Why didn’t you get me any? You know I like the extra dark.”

He went into this harangue about how he doesn’t pretend to keep track of what I eat from day to day, and I’m always changing, and how can he be expected to know whether I want them or not? I said I’ve been eating them for six months and have never complained, so one would assume I still enjoy them and might appreciate a bag if you are already at the store anyway … buying some for yourself.

In the end, I caved. I agreed he can’t be responsible for knowing what I want. He is not to buy pretzels for me unless I specifically request them. He said perfect, that’s the way we will proceed. For the record, it was not a nasty conversation. We’re both a wee bit argumentative, but we come by it naturally.

Part of the problem is Dale was an award-winning debater in high school, and I was quite successful as a persuasive speaker in both high school and college. We met in the military, we were both leaders in our careers and we both like being in charge. However, our energy for the duel has waned with age and retirement, and we have gotten better about quitting before one of us gets a sword through the chest.

The next day, that would be today, he says he’s going to the store for pickles and will buy me pretzels while he’s there. I said, did I ask for them? I thought we had an agreement, or was it a dream? I mean, we went through all that only so you can ignore the new policy? He said no, you didn’t ask for them, but I’ll get you pretzels anyway. I said, no, that’s not what we agreed to. He said OK, no pretzels.

A few minutes later I heard his keys jingle and asked, “Are you going to the store now?” He said yes.

“Will you please get me some of the extra dark pretzels?”

I could hear him laughing all the way down the stairs, and it didn’t stop until the front door closed behind him.

Vacationing without your meds

We’re back after a week in Maine visiting family. It was a good visit, and I’m glad we went, but I’m thrilled to be home. Our cat, Riley, had lots to say upon our arrival. Dale calls it the Kittysburg Address.

This might be the terpenes talking, but I’ve started to think of cannabis as medicine, and it was rough traveling without my meds. Possessing cannabis in any form within U.S. airports or on commercial aircraft falls under federal jurisdiction. That means it’s illegal to pack it in carry-on or checked bags.

I don’t like the feds messing with my meds! If there’s criminal intent here, it’s on the part of the federal government for failing to acknowledge the powerful therapeutic value of cannabis. No laws against traveling with opioids, right?

Presumably, lots of people risk traveling with cannabis, but that’s not how I roll. Why, yes, I watch Orange is the New Black, and that’s as close as I want to get to women’s prison. Dale and I had a lengthy discussion about what dogs can smell. Can they detect an unopened cannabis oil cartridge? My sister-in-law said dogs are focused on explosives and don’t bother with cannabis anymore. I do not want to be the one to test her theory.

Although I do vape cannabis recreationally from time to time or take a couple of hits off the occasional joint, I principally use three types of cannabis products to treat different conditions:

  • Wellness – One daily dropperful of homemade alcohol-based cannabis tincture stirred into a small glass of juice reduces anxiety, lifts my mood and just makes me feel better overall.
  • Sleep – I buy cartridges of Granddaddy Purple concentrate. The cartridge screws onto a vape pen, and a couple of hits off the vape pen helps me sleep through the night. I also like Kiva chocolate-covered blueberries and Kikoko tea. I gifted Tranquili-Tea to my neighbor, who has serious medical issues but is wary of cannabis, and she LOVES it.
  • Pain – In addition to post-mastectomy pain, I have a lot of age-related creaky body parts. I apply homemade cannabis balm twice a day. A week without it, and my mastectomy scars started burning and sciatica returned.

I am careful to microdose and do not get high from the tincture or the concentrate. Topical balms have no psychotropic effect. If they did, I would be super sloppy stoned, because I use balm liberally on my mastectomy scars, knees, elbows and spine.

Traveling without these products was a bummer. I missed my tincture the most. I think of it as a vitamin but better. A little tincture makes me feel like a happier, better version of myself. I was explaining the concept of microdosing to someone, and I said you want just enough so you begin to feel the crack of a smile on your face.

For older adults who are interested in cannabis as medicine, I highly recommend starting with tincture. Some tincture is made with glycerin, and you can put a few drops under your tongue. I made mine with alcohol, because the shelf life is basically forever, but it burns when applied sublingually. That’s why I add it to juice.

I gave serious thought to putting a small bottle of tincture in my checked bag but decided it wasn’t worth the risk. As I unpacked when we got home, I found a love letter from TSA stating they searched my bag. Maybe they knew I thought about it! Anyway, I don’t know if it’s a manual search or if they use dogs or if they even care whether you have cannabis, but I was glad I erred on the side of caution.

Reluctantly traveling in retirement

I’ve been off the grid for the past week or so visiting family, and I’m somewhat embarrassed to admit I’ve missed my retirement routine. Travel feels more like work. Plus, visiting family typically requires my auxiliary power, which can be exhausting.

Dale and I saw a good bit of the world when we were younger, so we don’t have a travel Jones like many retirees. We’re pretty much homebodies.

Part of being a homebody is the pleasure of sleeping in your own bed and eating your own food, and that’s probably what I’ve missed the most. I also like setting my own agenda. When I’m on the road, I find it’s easy to get sucked into doing stuff I don’t really want to do.

I suppose there’s an upside to getting outside your comfort zone, but in my first year of retirement, I’ve been sort of selfish and all about my personal comfort. Maybe playing well with others will come later.

The other thing about travel is watching money fly out the window. Airfare and meals out add up. We have a slush fund so we can enjoy a trip without worrying about money, but I still hate spending it. We had a horrible meal at the airport, and I won’t even reveal how much it cost. On the other hand, we’ve had a couple of nice meals out, so it’s not all bad. Still, I’m cheap.

All in all, it has been a good trip, but I’m ready to go home. I miss the kitty, although the cat sitter texted a picture of them practically smooching, so I’m not sure he misses us.

I admire the retirement road warriors, but that is not the life for me. Which one are you? Homebody, road warrior or something in between?

Driving each other nuts in retirement

Shortly after I retired last October, my husband and I began to drive each other nuts. Readers enjoyed my funny posts about fighting over fish sauce and oatmeal and trying to kill him with bacon. Oh, and Fitbit couples therapy, when I earned the Zip It badge for keeping my mouth shut. The stories were fun to write and made Dale laugh as well.

I haven’t written about our relationship lately – mostly because it has been great! For sure, we are soul mates, but we have our differences, and it seems we found our retirement balance. We relish the warm and wonderful moments just hanging out enjoying each other and this chilled life we both love. It’s like we’ve rediscovered our younger, sillier selves. The people we were before life knocked us around.

I’m sure I will be writing about more marital mayhem, but while the going is good, I thought I’d share some perspectives that might help you avoid the same mistakes.

Moving

In retrospect, I think moving right after I retired compounded the issues. The closest we ever came to breaking up during our 40-year marriage was during one of our 20-something moves. Moving is stressful all by itself, and when you add that to the unknowns and fears of being newly retired, crankiness kicks in.

We would still move, as we were able to reduce our living expenses considerably, but I’d recommend either waiting a few months until retirement feels more comfortable or talking through these unique challenges in advance.

Habits & Behaviors

When you’re both working, you miss a lot of the little things people do when they are by themselves. Or you ignore them because you have more important things to worry about. Without the distraction of a job, you can put all your focus into identifying and correcting your partner’s flaws! Don’t. Just don’t.

You are with this person for a reason, so either accept them as they are or have a serious discussion on what needs to change. Dale is the silent type, while I like to talk things through until I am speechless and comatose on the couch. But we both agreed these picky fights had to end. To get there, he started to talk more, and I started to listen better, and now if we start to go down that path, one of us will say, no, we don’t do that anymore. It’s not worth arguing about. And we let it go!

We were driving to the Smart & Final the other day, a store that is in an area of town we don’t go to much. He was about to make a left turn into the parking lot, and I said, oh, isn’t this where we had the big fight about how to make left turns?

Dale said, yes, it is. And we both laughed.

Togetherness

We love to be with each other, but we also like our alone time. And suddenly, neither one of us had it. I started playing more golf. He doesn’t play, so that’s my thing. People always ask me what he does with his time, and usually I say, oh, I don’t know.

Dale has the gift of being pretty happy with not much going on. He reads, plays computer games and works around the house or yard, but his big hobby is dinner! Shopping for it, preparing for it, cooking it. I like to cook as well, and I thought, oh, great, we’ll be doing this together! But it took me awhile to realize the joy of cooking is mostly a solitary experience for him. Now I let him run the kitchen, and if I have the urge, I let him know I want to do dinner on a certain day.

I attribute our success to deep and open communications, but I asked Dale what he thought the biggest difference was and he said you stopped criticizing my driving. I probably could have skipped the soul-searching all together.

So, there you have it. To keep your retirement relationship strong, sometimes you have to talk, and sometimes you have to Zip It!

The technical challenges of blogging

Yesterday I sent a note to my subscribers that I would be deactivating this blog. I’ve had technical issues that just got the best of me, and I said screw it. Then I played a horrible nine holes of golf and moped all evening about what a loser I am.

We were out in the backyard for what is supposed to be happy hour, but obviously I didn’t get the memo. I was in a deep funk. Dale said sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself. He said you played bad golf because you took your baggage to the course. You don’t really want to quit blogging.

Yes to all of the above. You’d think at 62 I would have this all figured out, but I don’t. Whatever this is, whatever my issues, I’ve always blamed it on growing up in a family crippled by emotional deprivation, but I think I’m close to the expiration date on that excuse.

When I reflect with a clear mind, I realize I’m still a work in progress, and I’ve already learned a lot about myself in less than a year of retirement. I continue to evolve, but dag, technology can bite.

While I’m savvy with desktop applications, web design and WordPress drive me nuts. My hosting company doesn’t help with WordPress issues, and I found out I was being charged for WordPress help I didn’t know I had. When I asked where I could see that account on my dashboard, they said, oh, you have to call. I said where are the invoices? They said, oh, we’ll send them to you now.

I said, and I quote: “Motherfuckers.”

The guy said, “What?”

I said I just used a very bad word in my outside voice. Please just send me the invoices and cancel the subscription.

So now I’m on my own again. I apologize if you have problems commenting — I will continue to work through these challenges because I am not a quitter, damn it.

Let the fiesta begin!

Postscript: I have been trying to turn off comment moderation, so you don’t have to wait to see your comment. I’ve not been able to get that to work — I still have to approve them — but I tested it today and saw the reader does not get a message that says the comment is awaiting moderation. So you think your comment didn’t take — but it did. I’m on it!!

Do you care about retirement style?

Although I follow several fashion bloggers and love their flare, I am way too boring to be successful in that genre. You’d pretty much see the same outfits over and over again. While I care about appearance, I usually keep it simple. Still, I don’t think you have to be a fashionista to dress well in your retirement.

Retirement is all about enjoying life on your terms. No need to impress anyone. No need to fit in. Hopefully, you’ve planned it so you can live the way you want and dress the way you want. This retiree prefers a more minimalist style. I’m outdoorsy and fit, and oh, yeah, I don’t have breasts anymore, but I like comfortable clothes that skim my body and allow freedom of movement. Adult play clothes.

In some ways, being flat opened my sensibilities to a more androgynous style. I was never girly anyway and was never into makeup or painted nails, although I have been known to wear the occasional skirt or dress. My favorite celebrity inspiration? The late Anthony Bourdain and the thriving Jeff Goldblum!

Call me cray cray, but I think a slim pair of shorts and a white t-shirt with white Birkenstocks is stylish. I went to the DMV today, where I saw exactly how I don’t want to dress. If you need inspiration for how to accessorize with bra straps, that might be your best place to look.

Well, that was snarky. Good for them, they are doing exactly what I am doing, which is dressing how we please. This outfit is typical of what I like, but I’ve been thinking I might want to check out some thrift shops to see if there are some simple but cool pieces to add to my repertoire. Getting dressed is kind of fun when you don’t have to worry if it’s appropriate for the workplace!

How about you? Are you happy with your retirement style or do you even care? And believe me, I get that not caring is a viable option!