Tag: retirement

Finding your inner artist

How long did it take you to decompress from work and adjust to being retired? Right from the get-go, I was happy to be done with my job and thought that meant I had adjusted, but I was wrong. Just read through some of my old posts, and you can see how my thinking has evolved.

Work? Not work? Who am I without a job? Who was I with a job? What’s my purpose? Is there a second act? Do we have to reinvent ourselves? Aren’t we pretty OK already?

Life’s eternal questions. I kind of stopped thinking about them and focused on what made me feel good and what made me happy. Amazingly, my creative juices are flowing. I’ve been feeling artistic!

While writing is an art, I’ve never been otherwise inclined to pursue artistic activities. My crafty quilting sister got those genes. If I needed help with a Halloween costume or gift packaging, she would take my emergency phone calls from Michaels, where I panic. Seriously, what is all this stuff?

And in minutes, she’d talk me off the ledge. She’s the Michaels Whisperer, “OK, stand with your back facing the door. Go three aisles down and turn right. Look up. No, not that way. 3 o’clock. Bend your knees slightly and reach out in front of you. Pick up the tube on the left. Glitter glue.”

So, where to start? I took this quiz, and it said I am destined to be a print maker. I got a book from the library, and making prints looks hard. Actually, everything looks hard.

I’m calling in all my lifelines for help deciding how I will scratch this itch. I have virtually no experience making art, unless you count a ceramic ashtray I made in grade school and cookies decorated with royal icing. My friend, Carole, who is an artist, recommended decoupage. I went to the library and got a book on decoupage. Looks doable.

My sister warned me I need to be patient. Immediate results are not to be expected. Like I need to be warned about patience! I don’t have time for such nonsense! We’ll be talking this weekend, when she will share other important sisterly advice.

I’ve been thinking about what might come naturally pursuant to my interests. I like things with function. Surfaces like wood, glass, ceramic and tin. I like kitchen stuff. I’ve been doodling spirals since I was a kid. I see more spirals in my future.

It’s exciting to think about getting started in art, but it’s even more exciting to think my brain is finally in this place. This is year two of retirement, but my first full year. I’m decompressing from my work life and embracing my creative urges. Urges I didn’t even know I had.

Are you an artist? Or have you found a new creative side of yourself in retirement? How’s it going?

As for other creative urges, Dale and I are embarking on a journey this weekend to make tamales from scratch. You know there will be a story.

Pink sky at morning

Red sky at night, sailors’ delight. Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Does anyone know what pink sky at morning means? It has been cold by my puny standards, and rain is on the way. Wusses take warning?

I was all jammied up when I went out to the backyard to take this picture of sunrise over the Sierra foothills. Something about a pink sky makes me happy … particularly happy to be retired with nothing on the agenda and a full pot of coffee on the counter.

Dale and I jokingly call it “California Cold.” That means anything below 50. I had to force myself to go out for my long walks this week, so I over-bundled, which is my signature winter style. When we go out, Dale and I look like we’re dressed for different hemispheres.

Yesterday I played my first round of golf in 2019. It was in the high 30s when we were scheduled to start. Yikes! I was wearing so many layers it was amazing I could even hit the ball. But it warmed up nicely, and we had a great time out there.

I don’t make resolutions, but I had given thought to focusing more on my social game. There was a frost delay, so I chatted up some of the other players while we stayed warm in the clubhouse and mentioned my New Year’s resolution was to party more. That got some laughs and cheers.

Just saying, but it seems like the popular girls wanted to hang out with me after that. I learned one of my playing partners has a husband who grows pot! She’s going to bring me a little jar of bud, and I’m going to bring her a little jar of my homemade cannabis balm. A gift exchange! Dale thought that was hilarious. I mean, we’re still shocked you can go out in the backyard to smoke a joint, and no one can call the police.

My more relaxed attitude certainly helped my golf game. I had two birdies and a chip-in par for a grand total of 88. My best score ever is 84, and that was several years ago. I’m essentially a bogey golfer, which is fine, but I would like to improve, and who knows? With a little more partying, I might just do that. I have a golf buddy in Georgia who enjoys her rounds with a Bloody Mary in tow.

I’m not sure if it’s the weather or what, but my sciatica has been acting up, along with my right wrist, which I broke several years ago. I’ve been making sure to brave the cold and keep walking, using the cannabis balm twice daily and sleeping with a brace on my wrist. Seems to be working!

Oh. A word about the cannabis bath salts. I got the water super hot for my first bath and soaked 30 minutes or so. I felt remarkably pain-free that evening. But the next bath wasn’t as hot, and I’m also wondering if my cannabis-infused oil wasn’t evenly distributed, because I didn’t feel much. Two baths use 1/4 cup of infused oil. That’s kind of a lot, which sort of hints that it has great potential, but for now I prefer to use the topical balm I make with infused oil and beeswax.

I will say my aches and pain improved dramatically after I retired. That 2.5-hour commute on the bus to what was basically a desk job did nothing for my body. I don’t even complain too much about housework, because I figure it’s good for me.

For the record, I have attempted to lure Dale into the Housework-is-Healthy-and-Fun club, but he continues to resist. Although full credit due – he loads a mean dishwasher.

Deconstructing Christmas

Today is the magical day of putting Christmas to rest. I would have jumped on it two days earlier, but golf was calling. This morning I started to deconstruct the tree and will soon begin putting the ornaments to rest. If I could give them a lethal injection, I would.

Oh, stop! Not really.

I will make Dale drag the tree to the driveway, where he will chop it up with a chainsaw and stuff it into the yard waste bin. It’s easier than taking it to the recycling center, and I suppose it’s possible he works out some frustration imagining he’s practicing for the real thing.

Yes, I read too many crime novels.

Perhaps I should deconstruct my perspective on Christmas. I’m not sure there’s any there, there. I just don’t like it much and can’t wait for it to be over. Nothing bad happened on Christmas when I was a child … no dead Santa Dads in the chimney. My sister is beside herself with joy during the holidays, and Dale is his usual jolly self, so obviously I missed something.

And you know what? I’m rolling with it. I’ve been thinking a lot about this whole retirement thing and all the helpful articles about reinventing ourselves for our second act and overdosing on an abundance of gratitude.

I must admit I am pretty grateful, and at least gratitude takes the heat off of mindfulness, which must be tired after such a long slog. Me? I just keep marching forward, although I always thought I could do even better. I told myself I had not yet reached my full potential.

While the reinvention message spoke to me at first, lately it has become nothing more than noise. The thing is, I’m not sure I can do better. I was incredibly lucky to earn an excellent living mostly by being literate. I worked for great corporations and organizations, but I was never a true believer. The mission, the vision, the values? Just widgets.

In hindsight, it’s entirely possible I peaked.

At first, the idea I had peaked was kind of hard to accept, but I let it simmer awhile, and it’s starting to take hold. At least I made it to the endgame with a decent retirement. I can still evolve as a human, and it’s possible a professional opportunity will surprise me.

But with every retirement day that passes, I find that I enjoy just being alive without the pressure to earn a living, reinvent the wheel or memorize the vision statement.

And for this, I am abundantly grateful.