Category: Learning

Something lost, something gained

I dreamed last night Tiger Woods was at a big event planning to introduce me as his new girlfriend. I was wearing a skimpy gold workout outfit, and I looked hot. Except I was still old, and people were kind of noticing that, wondering about Tiger’s choice. He was about to explain when I woke up.

That was probably for the best. Some things you just don’t need to know.

Although I didn’t watch the Grammys, I’ve watched replay after replay of 80-year-old Joni Mitchell singing Both Sides Now and a graying Tracy Chapman performing Fast Car with Luke Combs. Kind of noticing they are getting older, and in a good way.

Both Sides Now speaks to me about youthful optimism, wisdom and regret. What a song, and she was so young when she wrote it. How did she know? I think my favorite line is, “Well, something’s lost, but something’s gained in living every day.”

Aging has it challenges, but you know, it’s not all bad. As for me, I’ve lost a lot of my fearlessness, but I honestly don’t want it back. Sometimes it was hard to keep up with myself. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gained a (mostly) quieter mind and am happy with less.

Joni and Tracy inspired me to charge up my ear buds and listen to music when I walked today. Lately, I haven’t bothered, but then I think about stuff the whole time, and no good can come of that. But today I came home singing along to Papa was a Rolling Stone, and that’s better than coming home pissed off about one thing or another. So many things to choose from.

Rain is good, I get that, but it gets old. I’ve gotten to where I don’t mind walking in light rain, but golf is a different story. It sucks to get all your gear wet, and the course is a muddy mess right now. Not much golf going on, except in my dreams.

Math is not my strong suit, so I’ve always avoided Sudoku, but atmospheric rivers will make you do crazy things. And, actually, Sudoku isn’t based on any learned math as far as I can tell, even though numbers are involved. For me, it’s more about patterns and logic.

Anyway, I’m actually quite pleased with my progress and can now do a medium difficulty puzzle in 30-45 minutes. A hard one takes me an hour, and I usually have to guess at least once. My goal is no guesses. I’ve learned some solving techniques including the tricksy hidden pairs and hidden triples, but try as I might, there other strategies I don’t yet understand.

I’ve been looking at books on Amazon, but I can see where that might be a slippery slope. I guess I want one book to rule them all, and I’m not sure which one to get. Any recommendations?

Oops

Never trust a writer. I thought long and hard about whether to quit blogging, and I finally decided to move on. Although I absolutely love retirement, my life is not particularly exciting. I figured everyone was bored.

I wrote the farewell post and pushed the button that said I’m outtie.

Your kind and generous feedback made me realize I don’t have to be anything other than what I am. I live how I live, and I write what I write. Thank you for helping me understand there’s a great group of people out there who appreciate my humble efforts. It’s not like I have to trek around the world backward and blindfolded to keep you interested. Sometimes you comment, sometimes you don’t, and that’s just fine.

It took less than 24 hours for me to realize I can’t not write, so I may as well do it among friends!

I’m not quitting. I’m sorry for the drama. I hope you’ll stick around as we return to our regular programming.

Retirement phases

I’ve heard it said retirement comes in phases. One would assume it’s different for everyone. I only know when I retired, I couldn’t quite let go of the need to feel successful. That first phase was frustrating, because I was no longer particularly successful at anything.

My plan was to keep dabbling, see what interested me, what stuck. After five years of enjoying simple pleasures and indulging in creative pursuits, that burning desire to achieve something beyond daily existence started to subside.

The turning point was lunch with my childhood friend, who shocked me by the details she remembered from my troubled youth. Her insights were enlightening, and I came to realize my life turned out way better than anyone could have expected. And whatever success I had in my career was plenty.

In this new retirement phase, I feel different. Like I’m just part of the ecosystem, at peace with the rest of the flora and fauna that share this space, with no need to measure up or justify my existence. It feels great, although accepting that I’m enough has changed my motivation for writing.

For me, writing was often about trying to feel validated. But it seems I don’t need that validation anymore, so I’m in search of the sweet spot that’s more about creative expression and personal connections. I’m not sure how this new focus will reveal itself, but I’m thankful you read my stuff and hope you’ll go along for the ride.

Which brings us to a topic foremost on my mind these days, and that would be Ultra-Processed Foods (UPFs). They are getting a lot of buzz lately, so I read the new book, Ultra-Processed People: The Science Behind the Food That Isn’t Food by Chris van Tulleken.

The book is heavy on science, hence the name, and it tells a compelling story about the food industry … how and why it delivers tasty addictive foods that make us fat and unhealthy. Most of us realize by now that sodas, flavored yogurt, snack bars, frozen meals and the like are on the naughty list.

We don’t eat that stuff at our house. But I was surprised to learn some foods we eat frequently are UPF. Most commercial breads. English muffins! Some peanut butter. Flour tortillas. Some fruit juices. You have to look at the ingredients, and if it’s a long list of unpronounceables, you’re looking at UPF.

Are you concerned about UPFs? Do you have a strategy?

As for us, Dale and I agreed we’ll still eat some of the bad stuff occasionally, but we’ll make simple changes where we can. I bought some natural peanut butter, and I actually like it, although I miss the mouth-feel you get from the hydrogenated oils they add to the highly processed kind. We bake a lot of bread, so we can get around that one with a little planning.

The biggest challenge would be flour tortillas. They are a pain in the ass to make, but I see that day coming. Another option would be to check out the local mercados.  I would assume if they’re making flour tortillas from scratch at the facility, they don’t have all the extra junk added. I could freeze them.

Make new friends but keep the old

I mentioned a little while ago my 50th high school reunion committee found me, and I’ve been connecting with a handful of those I used to hang out with. It’s part of a larger conspiracy to get me to actually attend the reunion, which is in September, but the upside is I’ve had some great conversations with people I haven’t heard from in many, many years.  

Last week I had lunch with one of my old friends who lives not all that far away. We met in the middle – about an hour’s drive for each of us – and it was so much fun I’ve actually been considering the reunion.

We think we met in the 8th grade. And then went to the same high school. We mostly had the same circle of friends throughout high school, although she was under the mistaken impression I was included because I was one of the smart ones. There must have been another reason, although I was pretty good at English.

In fact, she couldn’t wait to tell me her favorite memory. She was good at math but struggled with English. She said I taught her how to write a five-paragraph essay and even drew a diagram, and it stuck with her through high school and college.

I vaguely remember having a little formula for writing essays, and once she prompted me, I could sort of recall the details. I know I did write a few essays in exchange for cash, but I forgot to ask her if I charged her! She was so pleased to hear I capitalized on my strengths and fashioned a great career in corporate communications.

As for high school, my downfall was geometry and then biology, because I wouldn’t dissect a frog. She said she didn’t either. I got bumped from the college prep program partly because of that, but also because I did so poorly on the SATs.

She made the cut in spite of the frog situation and went on to college after high school graduation like all my other friends. But she said she got married while in college and started having babies, so it took her a little longer than some. I joined the Army and went to college later on the G.I. Bill.

We went to school with a bunch of rich kids. My friend’s parents were educated but of modest means, I think, and she remembered my family life was messed up, and we didn’t have much money. Both of us were kind of shocked we turned out pretty great all things considered.

I’m still socially awkward and am reluctant to attend the reunion, but I was surprised how special it was to spend an afternoon with someone who knew me before I was fully formed. And that all this time has passed, yet I found myself liking her more than I’ve liked anyone in a long time.

Seriously, she was so kind and charming and interesting, and I was beating myself up for losing touch in the first place.

I remember a little poem or maybe it was a song I learned as a child.

Make new friends

But keep the old

One is silver

The other is gold

Requiem for a tent

The tent is going back. After painful thoughtful introspection, we realized we’re both less tolerant of bugs, rain, heat, bears, snakes, outdoor plumbing and other unpleasant elements we used to find charming. The other reason is getting a camp site reservation in California is difficult if not impossible.

I know it can be done, but it takes a more dedicated soul than I to plan six months ahead and set the alarm so you’re up the second the sites go live. And then do that for weeks until you land a spot.

Since I didn’t start six months ago and don’t hop out of bed like I used to, I spent the last several days shuffling through the leftovers. The interface is frustrating, and I came up empty-handed. I even tried the far-flung places you’d think no one would visit, the ones where the mosquitos have names like El Hefe, and they’re booked solid for the foreseeable future.

This little exercise pushed us closer to finding our retirement travel mojo … which is surprisingly difficult for some of us. Dale and I have decided we mostly want to focus on seeing the natural beauty of California and other not-too-distant places, but we’re not going to rough it anymore. Sometimes a simple motel in a nearby town and sometimes a resort. Maybe even privately run glamping sites, where you stay in an Air Stream or something like that.

We’ll be spending more money, for sure, but I think we should be able to keep the costs reasonable. I guess reasonable is a sliding scale. What seems reasonable to me now was shockingly outrageous only a few years ago. But the truth is, like many retirees, we are not spending down our savings. It’s a good problem to have, and we’re ready to kick it up a notch.

I’ve planned a few trips, including Yosemite and Death Valley (yes, in the summer). All from the comforts of a resort. With a bed. A pool. Air conditioning. Restaurants. It was shockingly easy to make a reservation once you decide to throw money at it.

In other news, we had our second Shingles vaccine, and it kicked our butts. We’re both better now, but it was a rough night. I had the chills, and we were both quite achy and miserable. But at least we checked that one off the list.

Easygoing

A few weeks ago, I got wind of an art exhibition for veterans in my county. I debated whether to apply, partly because I’m not sure critics would view my stuff as “real art.” Anyway, I did apply for the exhibit, which is in May. They accepted me, but then I was miserable for a month worrying and fretting about how others might react to my embellished wood scraps.

I tried to tell myself, do the thing that scares you and all that, but life is already pretty scary, and I don’t need to pile it on. It’s not a popular sentiment, but these days I’m all about making things easier. I fought the good fight and made it to retirement. I used to think big deal. Now, I think, hell yeah, big deal.

Retirement, they say, comes in phases. I’m in the easygoing phase and am doing my best to bypass the harder-than-it has-to-be-phase.

Although I rarely quit anything, I mean, do it until it hurts, I withdrew from the exhibit and feel great about the decision. Art is just a thing I do, no more, no less. I enjoy sharing it with you, but I don’t need to beat the streets seeking new audiences.   

Number 36

I was working on Number 36 whilst churning through all this, and I was so grumpy, trying to make it better. Normally, my mantra, is hey, it was just a piece of scrap wood, now it’s something else. So what if it’s not perfect? But thinking about judges and shit messed me up. I simply need to hang out in my garage and do what speaks to me.

So, number 36. What can I say? I love cats.  

Speaking of easygoing, I hate buying new stuff, but I do appreciate tools that make jobs less of a chore. The weather is starting to get really nice, so I took it upon myself to clean up the patio furniture. I used a brush and garden hose to get some of the dirt off, and then it was all over. You see the difference, clean versus dirty, and what can you do but keep going?

I was worried about my back and wrists, which are both sensitive. I called to Dale, who was conveniently absent for the ritual washing of the patio furniture. I asked about a power washer. Would this clean up without a brush if I had such a tool? He said yes, and I said let’s go.

Off we went to Ace, where we killed it with a credit card and dragged it home. It was pretty easy to set up and worked like a champ. I probably saved my back and my wrists and maybe Dale’s life, because you know, cleaning patio furniture – so not his thing.

Then there’s the lawn. We have a small patch of lawn in the backyard. It used to be thin and scraggly, and we I mowed it with a little push mower. Then late last fall, we had a yard makeover and got new sod. This is the real deal. Thick and hardy.

Here’s the agreement I made. I will mow and blow, but that’s it. Nothing else. Nada. Either we throw money at it, or it’s Dale’s job. Mostly that means we threw money at it and have a service that takes care of the rest. Just another marriage-saver tip from Retirement Confidential.

The new grass had time to grow over the winter, but I hadn’t mowed it yet. When the rain finally stopped, I got out the push mower and almost collapsed. I couldn’t get it through the grass. I did do it, but I had to use my whole body and stop several times to catch my breath. I thought, well, the grass is just thicker because of the rain.

A week later it was a bit easier to mow but still awful. I told Dale I thought we should get a small electric mower. He said nah, it would probably get easier. He reminded me of my father, who used to smoke and drop ashes on the floor, suggesting it was good for the carpet.

I said, OK, will you please try it once and see what you think? And that was when we decided to buy an electric lawn mower. It’s small thing, light as a feather and whips through that grass with ease.

Key word. Ease.  

The upside of losing

I’m a wee bit obsessive about games and hold myself to a high standard. Fear of failure is a real affliction, and I’m not sure I have that, but I do dread losing at anything, and it seems to have gotten worse since I retired. Not getting those wins at work, so I work hard at my play time just to see if I measure up.

Seriously, it’s a curse. If I wake up in the middle of the night, I look at the light outside to see if I can guess what time it is. And yes, I feel good when I get it right.

I especially dread playing bad golf. More so since I retired. When I was working, I could explain it away by saying I don’t get to play enough. That excuse doesn’t fly anymore.

It’s not that I mind other people playing better or winning. But I’m mad at myself for not being as good and just want to go off alone to sulk. On the bright side, maybe I’m finally starting to reverse the trend. Last week our women’s league played on a muddy course saturated by rains, and it was tough. My partners and I agreed ahead of time we would laugh at bad shots.

Let’s just say we laughed a lot. I posted one of my worst scores since I learned to play the game more than 25 years ago. When we got to the parking lot, one of the women said, let’s have a drink for making it through that! She had a little flask and plastic glasses and poured us each a tiny shot of butterscotch liquor (which is delicious). We drank it right there by our cars.

Then I joined the group inside rather than exiting the scene with my head hung low, and we had a pretty good time laughing about how horribly we played. I have to say it was a much better way to end a bad round than my usual pity-fest.

The very next morning, as I was playing Wordle in bed, I lost a game and broke my 159-day streak. I thought I’d be devastated, but I surprised myself. I actually felt relieved. Perhaps the universe was sending me a message. Play for fun – not everything has to be a test.

I wouldn’t say I have a pathological diagnosis, and you probably don’t either, but for some of us, the fear of failure can be greater than the excitement of winning. And it holds us back.

Retirement is as good a time as any to try to recover at least a smidgeon of that wild abandon we had before life knocked us around. However, I don’t want it all back, because I seriously did some dumb shit when I wasn’t scared of anything.

After seeing the upside of losing, I feel kind of free. More relaxed. I’ve always dreaded a complete collapse of my golf game, and it happened. It wasn’t all that bad. The experience helped me understand it’s one thing to fear losing. The trick is to shrug it off and work harder at losing the fear.

Life lessons from Wordle

In his 2022 year in review, the humorist Dave Barry wrote:

Millions of Americans on social media realized — it took them a while, but they finally got there — that nobody wants to know how they did on “Wordle.”

So, let’s just say I knew better, but I went ahead and flashed my Wordle stats at my hairdresser, who then flashed me her Wordle stats, which put my Wordle stats to shame. Aside from a year-long streak, she solves most of the puzzles in three words.

My genius stylist then revealed something I did not know about Wordle streaks. According to Lisa, if you forget to play one day, maybe you actually go outside and (dare I say it) have fun … your streak is gone. Her streak was over 300 days, and she said it would have been more, but she missed a day when she was on vacation.

All that time, sweating over my streak, naively assuming the outcome was binary. Win or lose! The pressure was on, and I was ready to perform with excellence.

But now I know there’s a loyalty clause. Being good is not good enough. Let’s just call it Workle because it’s damn near the same thing.

I went through the stages of grief but emerged stronger for the experience. It’s like a cord has been cut, and I feel free.

Life is different now that I know you can lose without losing. I wish someone had told me this, oh, I don’t know, 40 years ago?

Anyway, that’s a life lesson that needs to come with me to the golf course, where I lost my temper this week. Not only dropped the f-bomb but also the mf-bomb. My profanity was not directed at anyone else, only my charming self, but still, I’m not proud.

I’ve decided to work harder at staying joyful and appreciating pleasant companionship on the course, as well as the unique challenges of the game. It’s not about the score. I repeat. It’s not about the score.

While I usually don’t play on Fridays, due to all the people “working from home,” I booked a tee time so I could practice being peaceful. Lo and behold, I had a better score. Of course, there’s a connection, but now I need to see if I can stay happy when the golf gods fight back.

So much to learn! Become a little less obsessive. Enjoy the game, whatever is is. Accept you can lose without losing.

Just another lesson at the intersection of Wordle and life.

A bridge lesson

I was invited by one of the women in my golf group to participate in a series of beginner bridge lessons in her home, and I thought why not? They say this complex card game is especially good for the aging brain. It seems to me anything that might help us dodge dementia is a good thing. I’m retired. I’ve got the time.

Today was my first lesson, and that’s an hour and a half I’ll never get back.

Perhaps I should have known. When I told Dale, he reminded me math was involved. While it’s true I picked journalism as a major because it was about the only degree that didn’t require even the most rudimentary of math skills, I thought, well, it’s a card game. How hard can it be?

Many of you probably know this already, but it’s damned hard. I won’t even go into the complexities I tried to absorb during this first lesson, but it reminded me of high school geometry, when the teacher spent an entire semester saying, “Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.”

Because that’s what it sounded like to me.

The bridge instructor scheduled an indefinite number of lessons every Thursday at 9:30 a.m. Not bad, but not good for the retirement practice I subscribe to called, “The Slow Start.” But you know, staving off dementia, I guess I could move out faster for a good cause. Also, Thursdays at 10 is my preferred time for massages, and one must have priorities.

On the plus side, I wore jeans and my old Lucchese cowboy boots, which I haven’t done in a couple of years. At least I looked cute, and that takes a few brain cells, doesn’t it?

Bridge is interesting, and I can totally see the attraction. I generally like games. I really liked this group of women. If they had a Yahtzee league, I’m all in. I used to play Hearts back in the day, and that didn’t kill me. Backgammon. Scrabble.

But bridge, wow. I’m 67, reasonably intelligent and in excellent health. However, I don’t think I have enough time left to understand this game.

Even without the card counting and all that, there are all kinds of weird things including where you sit and what cards you play – north, south, east and west. What’s so wrong about left and right?

Sometimes your partner will show all their cards, and you play those, too. Like one hand wasn’t enough. And all these little codes to signal your partner how you want to bid. If everyone subscribes to the same convention, why not just say it in plain English? I have five spades!

I didn’t want to disappoint my friends, but I also didn’t want to pretend I’d come back when I knew it was a lost cause. While I acknowledge some stress is good for you, this is the kind of stress that makes me miserable. Rather than drag it out, I just laid it out for them. They were gracious, but now they have to find a replacement, which sucks for them.

When I got home, I told Dale he was right. Numbers gone wild! Crazy stuff! And all my Thursdays eaten up just to learn the basics? I’m pretty sure I would start dreading Thursdays, finding excuses to stay in bed, when in fact it’s a rather pleasant day of the week that has done me no previous harm.

He said, “So, you’re saying it was a bridge too far?”

The man’s still got it. 

All this is good news for those of you who enjoy reading my blog. I haven’t posted in a couple of weeks, and I had been thinking, maybe I’ll just quit writing. But that’s looking like a bad strategy now that I know bridge isn’t going to save me.   

I promised the bridge gods I would work harder at writing if they would just leave me alone.

You can quote me on that

    January marks five years of publishing Retirement Confidential. In honor of this anniversary, I suffered through pages and pages of old posts to cull some of my more cogent thoughts about life after work. I hope you enjoy the recap.

    Thank you for making it all possible. Happy New Year!

    • In large part, retirement is about making it to the finish line and doing whatever you can get away with.
    • Many retirees are probably unemployable. Not that we’re uppity, but our bullshit meters are pegged. Oh, and our inside voice is now our outside voice.
    • While big retirement goals typically require planning, preparation and commitment, in the art of the slack, it’s important to set a low bar for the routines of daily life.
    • I got my first Social Security payment this month. That was fun. While I don’t miss work, I do like to be on the receiving end of money.
    • As a childless couple, we want to spend our principal … just not all at once. I like the idea of “die broke.” However, I would like to avoid being alive and broke.
    • We add layers and layers of accommodations and behaviors to earn a living, and we start to believe that’s who we really are. Retirement is a journey toward freeing ourselves from expectations and accepting we don’t have to be more than we are.
    • One thing I’ve learned in retirement is there’s something to be said for wishful thinking. I have been on both sides of the attitude spectrum, and nothing good ever happened when I thought the glass was half-empty.
    • I woke up the other morning thinking, “I should get a job.” I used to like people. Maybe I could learn to like them again.
    • Retirement can be the opportunity to discover or re-discover who you are when nobody is watching.
    • What if we don’t need to continuously improve ourselves? Here’s a radical thought. What if being content is what it actually means to reach our full potential? What if being alive is our greatest accomplishment?
    • I’ve had weird retirement dreams lately. I’m working at my old job but wondering why there isn’t more money in my bank account. Did they forget to pay me? Then I realize I wasn’t working at all and haven’t had a job in years. I wake up happy.
    • Illness definitely affected my professional timetable. My first bout of cancer woke me up to get serious about work, and my second bout woke me up to get serious about life.
    • In the grand scheme of things, I haven’t accomplished much. I consider making enough money to retire my greatest achievement.
    • Retirement can be an unbelievable opportunity to pursue nothing – and that is everything.
    • I’m not one to document goals, accomplishments or disappointments. If I wanted to do all that, I would be working.
    • I never get sick of retirement. Even when I read the news, and it’s all horrible and depressing, I think, well, at least I get to sleep in.
    • On multiple occasions, my boss said I couldn’t take vacation. I think she just got nervous when the flock wasn’t there. When I retired, I had more than 30 days of vacation paid to me because I never got to use it. Yo, girlfriend, guess who’s on vacation now?
    • In many ways, it would have been easier to keep working. At least you get paid to avoid self-reflection.
    • Once you have enough to get by without a job, time becomes more important than money or stuff.
    • Waking up without an alarm is one of the greatest joys retirement brings. I waited my whole life for this.