Posts Tagged ‘retirement’
Double Napping
Why don’t I have a story to tell today? Maybe it is because I unintentionally succumbed to a nap on two separate occasions yesterday. I guess because I could. When I wasn’t sleeping, I was either walking Asher with Cyndie, cleaning up after and feeding the horses, or chilling on the recliner with deep dives into classic rock performances from the 70s on the you tube.
After watching the theater release of the Bruce Springsteen movie, I’ve been reading a biography on him, and that triggered my search for some of his old performances from before he became larger than life. One feature led to another, and soon I was watching a wide range of artists doing renditions of their hits on obscure TV shows from a time when I was too young to notice.
So, when I wasn’t napping like an old man, I was watching music performances from the soundtrack of my youth. Not much of a story, that.
.
.
Work Dreams
After you retire, if you want to know how to start dreaming about bizarre work challenges again, just drive the commute to your old day job to walk through the workplace and visit all your former coworkers again. I did just that last Tuesday and was rewarded doubly.
I enjoyed the pleasure of seeing their precious faces again, while they applied their trade skills in a spiffed-up facility under new ownership and management. As a bonus, I was rewarded with a mostly unrealistic dream a night later, involving imagined situations I was supposed to play a role in, while having no idea how to proceed.
It was a treat to see them all looking as good as always, and have everyone still remember who I was. Of course, it helped that I brought a batch of Cyndie’s home-baked scones, fresh out of the oven, to distract them from any lingering memories of why they hoped to never have to listen to my lame attempts at humor ever again.
– Lynne, I’m sorry it took barely a few minutes before I came up with some snarky remark to poke fun at you. –
In the years since I retired, I haven’t noticed missing the work, but I frequently miss being with these people. We spend more time interacting with coworkers most weeks of a career than we do with our families. The folks I was lucky to be with for many years were a very special work family for me.
If only I could convince the staff that they should hold their next company picnic at Wintervale Ranch. I’m sure I could talk Cyndie into baking some desserts for the occasion. I would even promise not to make the manure composting area one of the main features I’d show off.
After a day up at the Wilkus’ cabin in the middle of the week, Cyndie and I have taken advantage of an opportunity to get away to her family’s lake place for the weekend. We brought Asher along, too, so we only needed to find coverage for twice-a-day horse feeding for the few days.
Since we prefer to wake up at the lake whenever possible, we drove up last night under the cover of darkness. I think it might have helped me avoid any more dreams about the old workplace.
When can I expect to start having dreams about weird situations of being retired?
.
.
Feeling It
It’s been over two years since I retired from commuting to a day-job and yesterday was one of the few days in that span of time when I fully felt the liberation of not being tied to a work schedule. Sure, I’ve thrilled repeatedly over no longer feeling dread on Sunday nights, but those have seemed like small victories.
Yesterday morning, I didn’t change my routine with the shift of clocks to Daylight Saving Time. It felt liberating. Around lunchtime, Cyndie, Asher, and I hopped in the car to head for the lake place. Leaving on a Sunday night to go up north felt rather decadent.
We can go to the lake any day we’d like. We are retired. And I am feeling it.
With only ourselves to accommodate, I enjoyed the luxury of ordering a cheeseburger and fries “to-go” from a nice lakeside diner along the route to fulfill a craving that usually goes unmet. It’s often not the right time when we pass by or there are time constraints, or some other random obstruction that prevents stopping there. Finally getting what I always think about when we pass that restaurant made it taste even better.
There was no traffic heading our direction, though we passed a fair number of cars returning to the Cities. Many of them were carrying muddy fat-tired bikes after a weekend of riding CAMBA trails.
There does happen to be a method to our madness for being here on a Monday. Some work on the house is scheduled to start this morning by a contractor that Cyndie arranged over the phone. This will be a chance to meet him in person and be on hand in case any issues arise in the replacement of a bottom chord truss under the eave on the lakeside of the log home.
Being the only ones up during the week this time of year feels a little disorienting. We can make a mess of the house and not be in anyone’s way.
Actually, the place looks a little like the empty mansions in the movies with covers over the furniture. Cyndie didn’t want Asher to shed on the couches.
There aren’t enough people around to occupy the furniture so he thinks it becomes his responsibility.
I doubt he’ll have any time to rest with strangers working just outside the windows all day long. I expect they will need to be barked at with gusto.
It’s either them or the squirrels.
I think maybe Asher is feeling the same as us. Seems to me this feels a lot like being retired.
.
.
Holiday Monday
Today is Labor Day in the U.S., a holiday that alters my life very little at this point. We will drive home after a fabulous weekend on the water on a day when high heat is expected to be baking our part of the planet once again. I’m not getting ready for a new school year or returning to a workplace routine tomorrow, both fall milestones I dealt with for most of my life.
It means a lot to me to not take the benefit of being retired for granted. I feel ecstatic to have the freedom to choose where I will direct my attention every day. It’s unlikely that I will notice that today is a holiday. I expect I will notice that the recent dirt landscaping along our driveway deserves my attention.
Now that I think of it, I may notice a little holiday traffic on the route south. Maybe a line at the Dairy Queen in Cumberland.
Not knowing how I would spend all of my time at the lake over the weekend, I brought my wood sculpting stuff and a guitar. I didn’t bring my bike. I didn’t even open my guitar case and I barely got started on sculpting before being interrupted and putting it away. I guess I spent more time at the pickleball court than expected.
Oh, um…, I got called out yesterday on that claim of “winning” the “tournament” after playing only one game on Saturday. We didn’t show up to play until after the appointed start time and the team with the dinner reservation had won two games by the time we took on the losing team.
Jennifer…, we stand corrected. You and Charlie deserve to claim that (virtual) trophy.
Steve and I played five or six games yesterday and won all of them, except one. That one we lost 11-0. I blame the wind.
The floating inflated water contraptions have been brought in for the season and buoys tied to the anchors. We are ready for summer at the lake to be declared done for another year.
The next visit to the lake place will feel that much more like fall. I wonder how soon the temperature will get the memo.
.
.
Great Ride
It was everything I wanted and more. Last Tuesday, Cyndie and I had dinner with our friends Paul and Beth, and the idea of going for a bike ride with Paul came up. I wanted to get more hours on the saddle in preparation for the Tour of Minnesota coming up in a week but I’m not a big fan of riding by myself. I offered to drive to Paul’s house so we could start from there.
Paul tossed out the loose idea of riding toward Wayzata from his place in Minneapolis which would provide me both hours and miles. Sounded perfect to me. It turned out to be even better than I expected.
The greatest gift Paul provided was his making almost all of the turn-by-turn decisions so that I was able to simply follow him and enjoy the ride. At one point we came upon an option of trails and I picked the more northern route that I was less familiar with. That choice ended up providing a series of unexpected perks that enhanced my day significantly.
The first one happened after I recognized a unique water tower in Plymouth that told me we weren’t far from the location of my old day-job I retired from. I stopped commuting the 65 miles one-way in December of 2021 and haven’t seen the folks I worked with since. After I left, the company was sold and although I have exchanged emails with the new owner, I had yet to meet him. Yesterday became my surprise chance.
It took some bike gymnastics and one fence scaling to get there due to construction but it was worth it to all-too-briefly be able to say hi to my old coworkers and shake the hand of the new owner. (I am chuffed to discover our Asher shares a name with Brian’s dog. I probably thought of changing “Ash” to Asher from stories Brian had told over the years. Could be, the way my mind works.)
Soon after we left the old workplace, Paul mentioned his mom lived nearby. I suggested we stop and say hi. It had been many years since I had seen her. You never know what might result from an unannounced appearance at somebody’s place, but she was home and invited us in for a wonderful visit.
Two great surprises in one ride! But there’s more.
Paul directed us to the place his brother, David is living and we pulled in so I could witness the gorgeous property where he resides. The curving driveway includes a small bridge across Minnehaha Creek before arriving at the house and garage. David wasn’t around so Paul snapped an “usie” to let him know we were there. I suggested the message could be, “Having a wonderful time. Wish you were here.”
As we cruised along the rest of the way, after baling out on going all the way to Wayzata, Paul pointed out houses, or streets that led to houses of other friends we know. I felt like I was on a celebrity tour.
The mileage for the loop clocked in at a respectable 34 miles which met my goals perfectly for distance and time. The hour of completion conveniently allowed me to pick up Cyndie’s grocery order on my way home.
Paul, you were a wonderful tour guide. Thank you, again, my life-long friend.
.
.
Half Day
I felt a little like I was “quiet quitting” yesterday when I chose to wait a half day before venturing out with pruning tools in hand to clear more brush along our northern property line. It was cold outside in the morning and I knew it would be warming up eventually, what with the bright sunshine we were experiencing.
A little extra time in the recliner doing some reading and writing meant outdoor chores could wait. I guess that is a luxury one has when you are your own boss. I just won’t be giving myself any “going out of your way” awards for my partial effort.
In the morning frost, one of our fence posts caught my eye because the lines of the grain pattern were accentuated by the ice crystals.
The horses didn’t show any signs of being bothered by the brisk start of the day and remained wonderfully mellow while morning feed pans were served.
My slow start, which pretty much kicked off right out of bed –for no obvious reason I was seriously lacking in motivation from the moment I stood up– carried over into the afternoon when I finally did get outside to cut branches. I was in no mood to crank up and maneuver the chainsaw. The ratcheted lopper and a good old pruning handsaw became my weapons of choice.
I guess I am gambling that the weather predictions for the days ahead will prove accurate and there is no rush to finish any of our ongoing outdoor projects before snow and cold bring an end to landscaping endeavors.
Mentally, it seems I am more than prepared to engage in extended indoor activities at the earliest opportunity. The idea of not even getting out of bed loomed large on my mind at the moment Delilah made her body-shaking, ear-flopping announcement that it was time to get going yesterday morning.
It was hump day yesterday, after all. No wonder I was feeling unmotivated. Now it’s Thursday and I am ready and rarin’ to go. Except, the days of the week make no difference in my schedule of activities.
I can report, however, that just because I no longer commute to a day job, every day definitely does NOT seem like a Saturday.
Taking a half day off every so often gives me a chance to appreciate that every day is almost like a Saturday if I choose to think of it like that.
.
.
Indoor Pursuits
One day after a big melt, everything froze solid again and the wind chill is biting. Putting on the equivalent of a spacesuit to walk the dog makes sense because when we step outside the cold feels like we are in outer space.
The horses didn’t seem to pay the Arctic cold much attention, except maybe to more fervently devour hay for fuel to generate desired body warmth. We didn’t waste much time after the morning “cheers” (Ian’s and my more descriptive variant of “chores”) of seeing they got properly fed, knocking away ice that formed on their waterer, and doing the requisite housekeeping under and around the barn overhang.
We headed straight back to the house to thaw out.
The rest of the day was given to indoor pursuits, beginning with scouring the local newspaper over a warm breakfast. Cyndie and I then each independently processed the day’s Wordle challenge. After that, I lost myself in a jigsaw puzzle while Cyndie was occupied at the other end of the old family table toiling on a craft project.
We also took turns scouring our closets and dressers for clothes we can live without in a burst of decluttering. Getting rid of shirts that I haven’t worn in years is an exercise I really enjoy. I need to be in the right mood for it to go smoothly and when I am, it becomes easier as I go to dig ever deeper and jettison excess versions of button-downs or short and long sleeve tees with minimal hesitation.
At this point, there are many shirts I was only wearing to the day-job that now deserve to be retired, since I’m no longer employed outside the home.
My uniform for working at home tends to be rather limited and one combination of base and outer layer pullover shirts can last me for days before needing to be tossed to the laundry.
It all gets covered with the spacesuit when we go outside anyway, so if I can avoid working up a sweat, nothing gets too dirty except the treasured outer covering of my lined Carhartt overalls. Those now have so many accumulated layers of having been soiled that they almost stand up on their own. Makes it increasingly easier to climb into them over time.
Anything to make the project of dressing for outer space a little less onerous between the hours of indoor pursuits where we are warm and cozy.
.
.
Too Funny
My weather app didn’t get the memo. Look at the warning they sent me last night…
Nope. Other than the fact it is Christmas Eve and none of my former coworkers will be driving in this morning because the place is closed for the holiday, or the fact it is Friday and I haven’t worked on-site on Fridays for years, I’m not going to be doing that commute anymore.
They can adjust that warning for me to: Watch out for wet conditions in the paddocks and stay alert when moving around the horses.
Oh, what a relief it is to be done with navigating highway traffic during the twice-a-day commutes.
This feels like retirement already.
.
.
Final Commute
I am one to never say never but in the case of commuting to the day-job that I have allowed to occupy my time for longer than I ever imagined since moving to the countryside of Wisconsin, today is my final time. Starting tomorrow, my ability to give my full attention to managing our Wintervale property will become my new primary occupation.
Another way to put it is, I am retiring. I am choosing to end a career that began in 1981 as a graduate of a technical education in electronics from an institution known for educating radio and television personality-hopefuls. Their electronic technology degree served me well and provided opportunities to work with some brilliant people on some breakout technologies over the years.
At that first job at a manufacturer of vacuum technologies for the surface analysis sciences, I was introduced to the nuances of manufacturing. During my 18-years with that company, I met and worked with Gary Engelhart, an electrical engineer who became the person I would follow to several different versions of system engineering and electronics manufacturing jobs for the rest of my days working in the field.
I tried to quit several times over the years, but Gary always made it clear I was welcome to return when my circumstances warranted. I am forever indebted to his confidence in my abilities. There is sadness in ending my time of working with all the staff at Gary’s electronics manufacturing company, but it is definitely offset by the thrill of claiming the rest of my days as my own.
I will not miss the stress of the day-job responsibilities.
.
Starting tomorrow, here’s to leaving my car in the garage more often than not.
.
.
Single Week
Less than a week, actually. The holiday season is long but the actual day of Christmas is just a single day and it is now six days away. I am also down to a single week left commuting to the day-job. Three days, actually. It feels like a lot is happening that will hopefully lead up to a period when not much needs to happen, for the rest of my life.
For the last six months, I have only been commuting to the far side of the Twin Cities three days a week. I am already aware of the complexity of noticing what day it is when Saturdays and Sundays become blurred with Fridays and Mondays. When seven days a week all require the same attention from me, I will join the throngs of others who are in the phase of life when every day is simply “today” and not so distinguishable from all the others.
Yesterday was Cyndie’s Christmas Cookie baking day. I failed to provide much warning but the post I created in 2017 is still very applicable. Check out: Advance Warning.
Cyndie invited helpers to contribute to the extravaganza. They captured and shared some images of the frivolity…
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Cookies galore are being shared far and wide. For reference, if you ever have a chance to help Cyndie in the kitchen, you will be stocked with plenty of goodies upon your departure.
Despite this being the second Christmas season under the pandemic, glad tidings and good cheer still shine through.
Merry Christmas, everyone! Enjoy this last week.
I know that I will.
.
.
Relative Something 