Poof!

For the past five years, i’ve had a spreadsheet (compliments of the ever-enterprising Excel-pert, Studley). A spreadsheet that can be poked, prodded and tweaked in all sorts of ways, playing with expenses and income. It was my retirement planning tool.

Through a combination of planning, luck, early breeding and conservative financial management, i was surprised to find myself in a position to comfortably retire with a pension, after working for the same entity from the age of 19. i just had to wait until my 55th birthday to pull the chain.

i didn’t believe it. i worked and re-worked those numbers. Studley included important expense categories such as “entertainment” and “booze”* and most importantly travel. Even throwing in a ridiculous budget for such luxuries, it was still manageable.

i turned 55 in early June. i cleaned out my office and walked out the door and have no intention of ever working again.

Poof.

Just like that, i was no longer employed.  From the age of 16, i’ve always had a job with income. Self-sufficiency required that, and i worked my way through university through a combination of a co-operative engineering job, and admin/teaching assistant positions. i have always worked – driven by the need to be self-sufficient.

And now that comes without the need to work.

Turns out, this is a pretty serious transition – even though i absolutely recognize the privilege that comes with this particular transition. Unlike divorce, a cancer diagnosis or becoming an empty-nester, this one is without question a GOOD TRANSITION. Not only that, i had ample time to prepare for this one.

i’ve been asking retired people the same question for the past few years – “what was your biggest surprise after retirement?” The answers were all over the map… “How expensive health care costs are” to “How busy I am! How did I ever manage to do all this with a full time job?” One response that stuck with me was “How important the calendar becomes.”

i’ve always been pretty tight with my work calendar. It also had personal appointments and extracurricular activities on it, but the work day was the foundation. When every day feels like Saturday how do you know what day it is? How do you know that the Tuesday night patio party at your favorite venue is happening if you don’t realize it’s Tuesday?

Only two months in, here are a few other observations –

Getting dressed? Different. i don’t put on make up in the morning. Morning lingers longer than it used to. One day i had a volunteer meeting at 0800. The dog even glared at me as i walked him at 0700 – “what is this shit? why are we out of bed? why are you dressed?” Clothes off of a hangar, not out of the laundry bin after a sniff. Hair brushed, and not stuffed under a baseball cap…

Speaking of hair…

i’ve been having mine painted for 20 years. Thanks to genetics, my hair would have turned shock white by the time i was forty without chemical intervention. A couple of years ago, i started playing with that white – i let a chunk underneath go white, then hit it with some funky color. It’s been blue for about a year, and while i like it, i don’t like the maintenance. So i’m working through a process to let my hair revert to its natural color.

Brain function? A bit befuddled – more forgetful than usual, not able to find words, and carrying a general fog every now and then. Still carrying five different volunteer jobs, i have responsibilities that require thought. We are continuing to push the envelope on life skills and experiences, in part to keep the brains working…

But those are details for a future post… i’ve exceeded my word count for today! Time to go pack a suitcase!

* i like to throw parties. My friends appreciate good food and good booze, as do i. That shit ain’t cheap…

How Did i Get Here?

“Those are nicer cabinets than the ones I’m putting in my kitchen”.

Dan was half of a two-man crew from Habitat for Humanity, stopping by to pick up the oak cabinets i’d just had removed from my kitchen, in preparation for a massive remodeling job.

“i just want them to find a good home…”

Since i moved to the new place in 2008, i’ve been tackling one project each year. Billiards room, home theater/audio system were top of the list, but the office renovation, theatre room upgrade and fitness center remodel are all completed according to plan. i’d put off re-doing the kitchen because it would be more expansive – and expensive.

Initial plans were more modest, but once i realized that Mom and Dad’s final gift would be more than expected, i decided to go balls out – and make it a dream kitchen. Serious design work started in January with a professional, and i pulled the chain in March when i placed the order for cabinets.

And then the guilt started to work on me… My kitchen was perfectly serviceable. Why remove the walls? i’m not a serious cook – do i really need to upgrade to a gas cooktop and double oven?

My facebook-based flea market began in earnest – i gave away two perfectly good tables, a working refrigerator, stove and dishwasher. Donating the cabinets to Habitat for Humanity to make sure someone, somewhere could use them.

Realizing the magnitude of the job, schedule became a challenge.

“i’m going on a two-week European holiday at the beginning of June – can we have the work done by then?”

Did i say those words to my contractor? Yes. Yes i did…

In order to accomplish a 6 week project in 4 weeks, i took on a few parts of the job myself. Professionally trained as a program manager – Cost, Schedule, Performance – this is what i do for a living.  i worked with the contractor (and subcontractors) to run things in parallel where possible.

So i’m the luckiest… The absolute fucking luckiest human on earth right now.

Sure, i’ve worked to earn a paycheck from the day i turned 16. Something in my wiring diagram does not allow me to go without my own paycheck – even when starting university, i was in a co-operative education program  at 19, picking up a job as a secretary in the engineering office during the semesters i wasn’t working full time.

i made the choice to go to graduate school at night, while working full time and breeding. Those years are a bit of a blur, but i did it. So did my spouse.  My husband and i made the choice to live on one income, and invest the other. We lived well under our budget, and prepared to send the two spawn off to university should they choose to go.

Why do i feel guilty? Where does the voice come from inside my head that says “You’re being selfish? You don’t deserve this!”

Is it enough that i know i’m lucky to have found myself here? That i’m lucky enough to have had parents who squirreled away something for their children? That i haven’t been bankrupted by a major medical disaster, or lost my job through downsizing, or random events beyond my control?

As i write this, i’m sitting First Class, given a complimentary upgrade on a flight to Florida for my sister’s wedding. Drinking free booze, and munching on tasty kibbles handed out by a smiling flight attendant.  Unlike the guy that Exile on Pain Street wrote about earlier this week, you won’t catch me bitching about the lack of single malt scotch. i’m pretty happy with my Jack Daniels and Diet Coke.

Dance on, little sister….

If you didn’t know that there was a Puerto Rican restaurant in the worn building tucked between a highway and a tired strip mall in a working class neighborhood, you’d drive right by.

Most days, Antojitos does a steady business for lunch and dinner.  One Saturday night a month, they close to host a private party – reservations only.  Fabulous buffet dinner for $20.  Since it’s a private party?  Bring your own drinks.

The magic starts when the music begins.  Members of a regional salsa band consider it a ‘jam’.  They have friends, and other musicians drop in whenever possible.  Sometimes a small subset of the band gets going.  Other nights?  The small storefront is packed solid with a full horn section, percussion, keyboard and guitars.

At some point during the evening, you are no longer in a nearly invisible restaurant in a smallish town in the Midwest – you forget all that.  You’re in Old San Juan, or some cheerful dive in Central America, or in Little Havana….

Last weekend, i joined friends to celebrate a birthday at Antojitos.  Some had been to “Salsa Night” before, but for a few it was a first time.  It was a good night to be baptized.  Full horn section in the house, with guest artists from a local high school jazz band. My guitar teacher, and her husband, were there as well.  Almost two dozen musicians!

The place was packed!  Our group of 20 crammed two tables at the front of the restaurant.  Another 50 people were packed in – tables so close together we were nearly sitting on top of each other!

Getting our fill of the amazing food at the buffet, our attention turned to a matter of tremendous importance — making room for a dance floor!  We helped tear down two large tables, and rearrange to clear some space in the middle of the room.

The music started.  The magic happened.  Couples hopped up to dance.  Young children joined on percussion instruments.  Joy, laughter, music!  All ages in the house – including multi-generational families.

And so it went… music, dance, drinks, laughter.

By midnight, the crowd had thinned out a bit, but the dancers had kicked up the energy to fill the space.  Returning from the restroom, i was stopped by a young girl.  Maybe 10 years old…

“I like the way you dance.”

Confident and direct, this was completely unexpected!  i mentioned that she seemed to be pretty good on the percussion instruments, too!  i thanked her, and returned to the dance floor.

As the band kicked into the last song of the night, i was standing by a wall, deciding if i had one more in me.  My young friend stepped up, took my hand and led me out to the floor.  The kid had salsa moves!  Executing steps and turns with confidence and grace, she threw it down – and i had to work to keep up!

This was taken earlier in the night, but that’s my girl in the light blue shirt.  She’s got it goin’ on…

Bubbles

In 9th grade, i won the “Klutz of the Year” award at the High School Band Awards dinner.  i tripped over a music stand on my way to receive the trophy.

i have never been graceful.

In 2006 i got my SCUBA certification.  The same year i got divorced, became an empty-nester, and got cancer.  It wasn’t until 2009, when Studley became a certified diver, that i had a chance to put more than my toe in the water.

And it was life-changing…  We had quite an adventure in Cozumel!  Weighing myself down with far too much lead, unable to find neutral buoyancy, and being terrified during a night dive with a five mile per hour current did not dampen my enthusiasm for diving.

i wanted needed more. i’ve gotten it.

Not a cheap hobby by any stretch, so dive trips to sunny, warm-water locales with pretty colored fish have been a bit of a luxury.  Even so, we’ve managed some extraordinary excursions over the past five years.

The most recent adventure last week to The Cayman Islands is now tucked under my weight belt.  On this trip?  i hit the milestone “100th Dive”.  Celebrated with the dive boat crew, and my fellow divers.  It was a good thing that i was still dripping with sea water, or they might have noticed that i was crying…

How did i get here?

It wasn’t just the milestone dive that triggered tears.  That was just a number.  It was more than that…

No longer struggling to manage my air, i was returning to the boat with almost a third of my tank untouched after an hour underwater.  Buoyancy isn’t such an issue.  i can get in a very Zen-like trance floating alongside a coral wall at 100’… a wall that has no bottom for another 6,000 feet.  The gear doesn’t confuse me – i can easily rig my own stuff, and get in and out of the water without assistance — even perfecting the James Bond Backroll from the side of the boat!

It’s not really all of that.

Moving effortlessly underwater with a school of fish.  Face to face with a friendly grouper.  While most divers use a standard kick, or frog kick, to move along, i’ve adopted the double fin kick…

In the water, i move like a motherfucking mermaid.  For the first time in my life?  i am graceful. It feels good.

That’s me, doing the inverted photo-bomb as Studley and i explore a wrecked Russian frigate.  For once in my life, i am not clumsy.

It feels wonderful…

Vignettes

Steam rolled my way through the month of October.  As the dust settles, i am somewhat surprised to find myself in mid-November.  Beyond the obvious plot twist launching my son on a new path, there have been a metric ton of other things happening… A brief update seems in order until i can catch my breath and organize my thoughts.  This isn’t a full list – far from it.  Just pixels and snippets and nuggets and slices… a reminder that i remain a very lucky woman.

– Since returning from the trip to Florida to visit my sister, a ‘sprained’ finger has failed to heal quickly.  Aggravating as hell, the sprain wouldn’t quit hurting, stop swelling and get better.  That’s because it isn’t a sprain, it’s broken.  Had to put on a splint, which gets in the way of… well… everything.  It also draws a bit of attention, and has started a few conversations with strangers.  “What happened?”  “Well, the short version is ‘i broke it’.  The long version is a tale that must be told over a pint or two…”  A tale that ends with me proving my machismo and winning a bet…

– After two weeks, i got a call from The Boy Sunday night.  Ninety entire seconds of talk time, with the sound of a barking drill instructor in the background.  Now that he is settled in ‘downrange’, he can get letters.  Wrote up two pages last night.  Not typed.  Hand written.  This is not trivial, given the broken finger on my right hand.  It felt weird.  It felt good.  When was the last time i wrote a letter?  Can’t remember.  Once i started writing – it came back to me.  Downright enjoyable…

– Had some strange weather recently.  Powerful thunderstorms, with almost a hundred tornadoes, rumbled across the midwest on Sunday.  Bad things happened across the region.  Looking for storm damage the next morning, i was greeted with this catastrophe on my front porch!  The horror!  The carnage!  One friend summed it up nicely – “If your Christmas Tree falls over and smashes your Pink Flamingo…You might be a redneck.”

– Studley and i continue our horseback riding lessons – with an added element of adventure.  Our instructor has introduced a new game to our weekly lessons – Hoofball.  The object is to work in teams of two, getting the horses to move a large ball toward a goal line.  Horses are not particularly smart animals, so they have to be slowly socialized to the ball.  Over the course of the past few weeks, we’ve been part of that training process.  Last night?  We played our first hoofball match!  Very fun, and very scary – turns out, it takes a long time for a horse to get used to having a giant ball rolling around the arena!  They’re getting better, though.  And we’re getting better at staying on spooked horses!

image found here

– A year ago, i got involved with an ad hoc group of nutjobs artists and musicians to bring the first “Dia de los Muertos” event to our lovely city.  This year?  Bigger and better.  They needed a parade vehicle – something that could tow a flatbed trailer carrying a dozen musicians.  My Jeep was the perfect solution.  Rather than just tow the parade float, i got it in my head that i was going to have one of the giant skeleton puppets that were created last year “drive”…

There were some unexpected challenges, but we pulled it off!  Not content to have the skelly just ride along, i also decided that he needed to wave to the crowd.  In the detailed photo below, you can see that Studley had duct taped the left arm of the puppet to my arm… which could explain why i’ve had a rather severe bout with tendonitis in my left shoulder and elbow for the past few weeks… We’re already planning for next year – i will have a fully animated skeleton, shooting fire from his nostrils!

– Another entry in the “What the fuck was i thinking?” binder…  Last March, i started a project to modify an upright piano into… something else.  Taking most of the summer off for travel, i’ve recently re-tackled the project.  The past two weekends have found me up to my arse in sawdust and power tools… but it’s coming along nicely.  This will get a full post when it’s done – which should be by Christmas.  Unless i perform an accidental amputation…

– What’s up in The Trailer Park?  Lots.  Good news and bad news, and “are you fucking kidding me?” news.  There may be an end in sight – and Mom may get to move back into her own home after four years of endless promises and threats.  A little afraid to say anything because i don’t want to jinx it….

Round and Round

Thirty one years ago today… Driving up that same hill.  Trees blasting color.  An unexpected forest of maples lining a four lane access road on the way into an industrial research park.

It was my first day of work.

Every October, there’s a flashback.  When the morning light is hitting those trees, the anniversary knocks me on the head.

i started as a student lab tech.  There was this guy, and we worked together in the laser test cells.  He was a long-haired genius, and kinda cool, and offered to give me a ride to work if i ever needed, because he lived near the university apartments.

i went over to have dinner with him in December of that year.  i stayed for 25 years.  We jokingly referred to me as the “thing that wouldn’t leave”.

Somewhere along the way, we bought a house, got married, had a kid, bought a different house, and then had another kid.  Raised those kids, bought a vacation house, separated, divorced, and moved on as those kids went off to university.

Through all of that?  i drove up the same hill every October.  Catching the incredible color of those maples in the morning light, and remembering the day i started work.

It’s pretty unusual to have such tenure with an employer.  The “Thirty Year Company Man” is nearly extinct.  It’s been a good ride, that’s for sure.  i’ve done nearly every job available…

“Go Fer” Student Trainee.

Toxic Waste Removal Technician Research Assistant.

Junket Queen Research Area Lead.

Benevolent Dictator Program Manager.

Adult Day Care Manager Supervisor.

Referee Tech Advisor.

Evangelist and Marketeer Portfolio Manager.

Fortune Teller Strategic Planner.

Rather than looking forward to what’s next?  i now plan my retirement – five years left if all goes well.  Trying to earn the paycheck.  Trying to be useful.  Trying really hard to still give a shit.  Thankful to have it – but frequently spending time in meetings trying to stay awake by calculating the number of days i have left.

But there were those trees this morning, showing off their autumn finest in the bright sunlight.  They’re thirty-one years older, too.  Like me?  They’re a bit thicker around the middle.  They’ve weathered some storms and are still standing.

But i’m out in five.  They have to stick around…

amazing photo found here…