Aug 22 2023

Nutrition For The Ages

According to the National Institute on Aging (https://www.nia.nih.gov) we need fewer calories as we age, but require a healthy diet to age well.  It seems to me we always need a healthy diet regardless of age.  So, I looked into the aging well end of it meaning the type of diet necessary to meet that goal.  My concerns centered around muscle loss, vitamin needs, maintaining cognitive function and physical strength. As with so many other things in life what I need may not be what you need.  However, what I learned as I age and changed my eating habits may be beneficial to you. So, here it is.

I was never the person who counted calories or read labels on the back of food products.  Trying to adhere to the diet of the month or year or whichever diet was hyped at the moment was entirely too much for me.  I found it overwhelming.  For decades I mostly consumed whatever I wanted not counting on calories, but exercise to keep my weight down.  Martin had a really simple way of maintaining his same weight throughout his life.  He got on the scale every morning sans clothing before putting so much as a morsel into his mouth.  If he weighed more than his ideal weight, he cut back what he ate for the day.  If he weighed less, then yippee, he ate a little more that day.  It worked for him for decades.  The only time I weighed in was at my doctor’s office.

Aging, however, brings on a whole new range of nutritional concerns for me.  Fortunately, despite my decades old lackadaisical approach to my diet, I’m in good health overall needing only a few minor adjustments. While I still don’t count calories, I do read labels as never before.  What am I looking for?  Salt, sugar and fat content, types of fats used and words I can’t pronounce.  During this past ten years my dietary quality and content has gained in importance mostly due to Martin’s diagnosis and the ensuing massive amount of reading I did and still do on brain health.  

If you haven’t read my post Your Brain On Eggs ( https://kathysretirementblog.com/2017/09/17/your-brain-on-eggs), it might interest you to know that your brain needs choline to make acetylcholine, which your brain needs to process.  One egg yolk supplies a third of your daily needed supply of choline.  I eat a poached egg on toast every morning. Again, from the National Institute of Health other sources of choline are dairy products, fish, broccoli, nuts and apples.

Myplate.gov has tools to help you track your food intake and nutrition goals

According to the University of Washington, “Following a nutritious diet is one of the best things you can do for your health as you age. Eating well can help prevent many health problems as you age, such as heart disease, stroke, diabetes, and obesity. It may also keep these conditions from getting worse. For individuals aging with disability, it’s important to maintain a healthy diet that also supports any medications you may be taking.” (https://agerrtc.washington.edu/info/factsheets/nutrition)

The first diet change I incorporated was more fruit, vegetables, beans and nuts.  This brings me back to reading labels.  I buy fresh produce that’s in season and I pay attention to where it originated.  The number of miles it’s traveled is a clue as to whether or not it’s been warehoused and/or moved through the hands of several wholesalers before reaching me.  Local is best, but that’s difficult to find in Michigan in January.  At that time I opt for fresh from warm climate states or frozen.  During the growing season I take advantage of freezing locally grown vegetables like colored peppers for winter use.  If I have no alternative but buying canned, I look for low sodium and sugar and rinse the food through a colander before using.  Although they contain more sugar than fresh fruits, dried fruits are another option. I go for apricots as their sugar content is low in comparison to other dried fruits.  Several years ago when my South Carolina ophthalmologist told me “an apple a day really does keep the doctor away”, apples became a staple eaten at lunch every day.  Rarely, do I miss.  In lieu of juice I eat the actual fruit or vegetable for the fiber they provide.

While still living in South Carolina my doctor sent me to a certified nutritionist.  Concern over the stress of my caregiving inspired her decision, and rightly so, to take advantage of the one time Medicare paid session.  The nutritionist and I spent a very productive hour not only discussing my diet and her suggested changes, she also honed in on my health conditions including the stress as well as the medications I was taking.  Check with your doctor about a healthy aging diet geared toward your specific needs.  Ask if you are eligible for a Medicare paid session with a certified nutritionist.  If so, take advantage of that session to kick start your healthy aging eating plan or verify that you are already there. A website I use to help focus on my nutrition needs and goals is https://www.myplate.gov.

As the University of Washington article recommends strive for balance and variety in your diet, eliminate unhealthy foods such as sodas and snacks laden with sugar, salts and fat, incorporate exercise as part of a healthy life style leading to healthy aging and drink plenty of water to stay hydrated.  Think fiber and lean.  Lean meats, beans, nuts and grains, low fat or skim dairy.  Fatty fish such as salmon with that good for us Omega-3.  Work towards getting most of your nutrients from real food, not supplements.  Talk to your doctor.  See a nutritionist.  Healthy eating for healthy aging is really not much different from what we did or should have done through out our lives.  We’re just tweaking it to fit our body’s changing needs.  

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Aug 8 2023

And So It Begins

And so it begins. Finally!  Last Sunday, a drizzly chilly day in the mid-60’s when normally Michigan temperatures would be approaching that of hell’s front porch, I located the site for my house.  Last winter the house locale was staked at the front of my property close to the road.  I was never happy with that site.  Today, the intention was to find a spot, which I loved.

In spring of 2021 my oldest granddaughter and I stood on a little bluff looking at the view of trees lining the front of my property with farm fields stretching on the other side of the road for as far as we could see.  It’s a huge farm operation encompassing thousands of acres.  Successful farmers don’t sell land; they buy more.  The odds of that beautiful vista becoming a subdivision in my lifetime are pretty much nil.

“You should build it here”, she said.

“No.  It’s too far back from the road.  I don’t want another 300’ driveway to plow.”

It was and still is the best location for the house.  So, despite my hesitancy due to self-inflicted pictures in my mind of snow, snow plow bills and snowed-in me, that bluff is precisely where I had the house staked.  I let go of worst case scenarios, what if’s and mind concocted fears.  Just as when I bought the land, I went with my gut.  My granddaughter was right after all.

Staking the location of the house

 Building a custom home is a lengthy, involved process requiring a multitude of decisions before the property is even staked for the location of your house.  I bought the property nearly two years ago.  If you remember, it was on a whim, so I named my place On-A-Whim Farm.  About the only farming I’ll do is wildflowers and my vegetable garden, but it has a nice ring to it.  

Working with an architect, the house plan was developed eighteen months ago.  As it sits unrolled, day in and day out on a large server in my kitchen, red pencil marks where the plan’s been slightly tweaked. Overall I’m very happy with the result.  To get me through all the decision making, which goes into building, I got a three-ring binder with dividers and set up a section for each room as well as exterior, landscaping, flooring, HVAC, plumbing and electric.  Basically, every room has a mood board.  This will, hopefully, keep me from going insane during the next several months.  Or driving my builder, Ferris Brothers Construction, insane.  

It will be a few weeks, but the next step is clearing some scrub trees for the driveway entry followed by excavating the house site.  In between there’s all those pesky county and township permits to gather and have approved.  And, so it begins.

Aug 1 2023

Pumping Iron

I started pumping iron again in preparation for my trip to Italy.  I thought that dragging a suitcase even on a pair of wheels may be more than I could handle.  Then, there was lifting my carry-on bag into an overhead bin.  During my past travels I always did entirely carry-on, but that was in my younger days.  There was always the chance of another passenger or an attendant helping, but I preferred to be self-sufficient.  Yoga had strengthened my legs, improved my flexibility and balance to where I could stand and put my pants on – one leg at a time.  While my upper body and core also improved with yoga, nothing strengthens and tones like weightlifting. I wanted the ability to carry my own weight so to speak.

It had been years and years and years since I lifted weights.  Previous experience reminded me I had to start slowly.  I also knew that as we age muscle mass decreases leaving me, at least, with the ‘Aunt Martha wave’ of sagging underarm skin – dry, wrinkly sagging underarm skin.  According to the National Institute of Health muscle loss as a normal part of aging is due to reduced endocrine function, physical activity and inadequate nutrition.  I longed for my arms to have some semblance of tone in appearance. In the interest of not straining my body (ringing in my ears was my yoga instructor’s mantra of ‘listen to your body’), I started with two pound handheld weights, then graduated to five pound weights.

Again, remembering my past training I offset my pumping iron days with my yoga days and of course, a day of rest which, by the way, isn’t spent sitting around.  In the interest of not stiffening, it’s imperative to keep those muscles moving.  My plan was six days of alternating each exercise and then a rest/recovery day.  I couldn’t do it!  Not only was the continual exercise a challenge, re-learning terms like rear delt fly, upright row and bi-ceps curl teased my brain.  Consequently, as I listened to my body, my plan evolved to yoga Monday, weightlifting Tuesday, rest/recovery Wednesday, yoga Thursday, weightlifting Friday, rest/recovery Saturday and Sunday.  Not forgetting how it’s important to remain active on the rest/recovery days, I continued to walk as weather allowed, going to the Leila Arboretum in Battle Creek or the MSU Bird Sanctuary in Richland.  When the weather didn’t allow, I just cleaned the house – ugh.

All of this seems like a lot.  And, until I spent ten days traipsing around Tuscany and various airports where my efforts paid off, I thought it was.  After my return and moving my household, it took a couple weeks to get back into the yoga and weightlifting habits and build up my routine again.  But, now I’m on a roll.  I’m doing two sets of every weightlifting move.  I go through all the moves doing 12 repetitions each. Then, I rest for about a minute or so and do 10 more repetitions of each move.  Eventually, I’ll add a third set of 8 repetitions.  I still have the ‘Aunt Martha wave’ with sagging underarms, but perhaps not as much as I should or could have.  My back, shoulders and upper arms are amazingly strong.  The kicker is what it’s done for my mental outlook. 

There’s a big payoff for exercising.  My confidence walking over uneven terrain increased.  I made it up many flights of stairs, over cobblestones and hilly wet climbs while in Italy, thankful that I had prepared for it.  What’s good for the heart is good for the brain.  Exercise improves cognitive function and reduces anxiety and bad moods.  I sleep better.  I feel I now have the strength, balance and flexibility to age well. While pumping iron was initially an activity that challenged my body and brain, it’s now a part of my routine I intend to maintain for as long as I can. 

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Jul 25 2023

A Life Of My Choosing

As mentioned in a previous post I’ve been journaling my thoughts about what I want to do in my future.  Titled “A Life of My Choosing” I was filling more than a few pages with what I wanted, needed, envisioned, imagined.  I kept my journal at the ready on the coffee table, so whenever an idea worth considering pushed its way into my consciousness, I could easily retrieve my book of blank pages and fill a leaf or two.  I detailed every single undertaking I pictured as fulfilling my life.  Never having made a bucket list, this is exactly what I was doing.  

Then, at a Fourth of July celebration with family and friends I drifted lazily at the edges of Fair Lake, buoyed by a donut shaped floaty.  Peering at gray skies, my hands and feet and bottom immersed in the clear water, my mind emptied in a meditative reverie.  This was heavenly.  No timetable for anything.  Gliding across the water in slow motion, my mind wondered to all my plans for the following year and then some, the building of the house, visits to friends around the country, choosing a volunteer gig, my next big trip.  With plenty to fill the next year, after 2024, what would be my next big thing?  Suddenly, I felt my derriere scraping the sandy bottom of the lake, grounding me.  I wriggled off the floatie.  Standing at the waters edge I asked myself if I was doing what I promised I would never do in retirement – chase the next big thing.

Shortly after retiring I took a class in Buddhism at the Osher Lifelong Learning Center at Furman University.  Our teacher, Sandy, was a  cheerful woman eager to share her story of finding spiritual peace.  At one time she had a career with a Fortune 500 company where she rose to the top as one of the few women to hold the title of vice president.  Sandy shared how she viewed herself as the person who could always handle any situation.  She could do it!  Whatever “it” was at the moment she could do it more efficiently than anyone else and in a timely manner to boot.  Additionally, she was always looking toward the next big thing, whatever that was. Then, her company was sold to a larger company, which already had a vice president for her department.  In one day she went from being a very important very efficient vice president with her chest puffed out to being jobless without a title without the next big thing to chase, her chest and ego deflated.  That’s when she realized her entire identity was tied to her job.  She worked hard putting in long hours.  She never slowed down for anything or anyone.  No matter where she was, she never stopped doing her job.  After much soul searching, in an effort to find her core identity, she began a spiritual journey learning to be more than her job, to slow down, to take pleasure in the small things, which make up our daily lives.

I could relate to her story.  During my work life I chased the next big thing, which is why I have such a checkered past.  It’s also why I’ve been so many places and taken up so many challenges including demanding hobbies.  Fifteen years ago while I was keeping a couple bee hives a friend quipped, “I can’t wait to see what you do next!”  Ah, he knew me well, perhaps better than I knew myself.  My identity wasn’t solely tied to my job, but it was always tied to doing the next big thing.  After taking Sandy’s class, I decided I wasn’t going to keep doing business as usual.  Now, here I was after years of caregiving, reviving old habits.

Perhaps I’m trying to make up for lost time or what I perceive as lost time.  Realistically, the time is gone and cannot be recovered.  It was not really lost, but spent caregiving while my expectation of what we were going to do during retirement was something altogether different.  The big question when we retire is, “What are we going to do with all that time we once spent at work?”  While I don’t want to end up with an easy chair and a bag of chips watching TV to pass the time, I also don’t want to be scurrying here and there looking for the next big thing.  I believe happiness comes from doing a balancing act no matter where you are on your timeline of life.  After investing much thought, a life of my choosing comes with both engaging in spectacular moments such as my trip to Italy, and now planning my new house, as well as down time indulging in the mundane aspects of everyday life, reading a book, grocery shopping, a walk at a local park.  For now I’m not looking beyond 2024.  Oh, I’ll keep writing in my journal, but I’m not actively looking for the next big thing.  Instead, I’m looking for the next everyday thing in a life of my choosing.

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Jul 18 2023

Inspiration

Accompanied by granddaughter Sophie and her friend I visited Frederik Meijer Gardens and Sculpture Park in search of inspiration for the garden at my new house.  Located about forty five minutes away in Grand Rapids, Michigan I’m a member.  My membership allows me to visit throughout the year viewing the gardens during each season as I pursue ideas for my much, much, much smaller version of this 158 acre display of everything from manicured gardens to natural landscapes.  July the gardens are in high season filled with a wide assortment of plants in bloom.  Paradise for me!

The English Garden as my backdrop

With two newly minted teens in tow I thought we would spend a couple hours strolling through the specimen landscapes close to the central building.  For sure the girls would become bored after awhile.  My plan was to visit the English Garden, glass enclosed Tropical and Dessert Gardens, the Children’s Garden and the Prairie Garden.  Much to my surprise and delight we didn’t eat lunch until 2 p.m. and that was only because I insisted, telling them, “If Grandma doesn’t eat lunch soon, I’m going to eat this fence rail!”  They giggled at the idea of me gnawing on wood.

Tropical Garden

During the four hours before settling into a booth at the Balk Cafe, we oohed over the fascinating metallurgic works of artist Cristina Inglesias, visited all of the landscapes on my list as well as the Japanese Garden, Woodland Garden, Farm Garden complete with farm house with rocking chairs (thankfully) on the front porch, barns, farm stand and bronze sculptures of livestock. As the girls busied themselves playing a game in the big red barn of ‘What is this antique farm tool?’, I settled into a rocker to rest my legs.  A little boy rung the bell on the other side of the wraparound porch tolling time for supper.

Viewing the Japanese Garden from a hill

At the cafe, which is cafeteria style the girls woofed down gourmet mac n’ cheese while I enjoyed a heavenly sandwich of chicken salad made with pineapple and dried Michigan cherries.  As we finished off our meal with ice cream sandwiches and cookies we admired the Chilhuly glass sculptures adorning the ceiling and discussed the array of sculptures throughout the 158 acres.  Considered one of the top 45 sculpture museums in the world, the Frederik Meijer Gardens and Sculpture Park offers surprises with every path taken.

Chihuly sculpture

Armed with a collection of photos and notes on my phone we made our way to the parking lot.  My two companions talked animatedly about the photos they’d taken and the amazing things they had seen.  My heart swelled with happiness over their enjoying our visit as much as I did.  We made plans to return together in April during the annual Butterflies Are Blooming exhibit in the Tropical Garden. I made my way back home while they napped in the back seat and my head danced with inspiration.

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Jun 27 2023

Transformations

After visiting three kitchen showrooms, looking at countless paint colors, wood stains, styles and price points, drawers, sizes and inserts, last week I made a decision on the kitchen cabinets and countertops for my new house.  There were also countless hours spent online looking at trends for all of the above and deciding if I want to be trendy or go my own way.  I settled somewhere in between.  The process of sitting down with a designer showing me options, current products and asking me what I like, what I want, forcing me to think about my preferences, and mine alone, was daunting.  It was also fun.

While we often think of our identities as steadfast we have all experienced many transformations throughout our lives, some intentional and some forced upon us by unexpected circumstances.  I’m going through a transformation not by choice, but I have no choice other than working through it.  As I’ve mentioned in other posts the one thing in life we can count on is change.  Transformative change occurs when an event takes place, which revises our view of ourselves and how we fit in our world.  My view of myself is changing.  My world has changed.  

I’m single now contemplating every decision with the support of others, but knowing that in the final analysis, the decisions are all mine.  Yes.  Daunting.  Also empowering.  Every change comes with personal growth as we face uncertainty, anxiety and countless other emotions during experiences, which alter our state of being.   I think of the job promotion that comes with both a feeling of accomplishment as well as an ounce of trepidation knowing the work responsibilities just increased.  The learning curve may be way up there.  Family life may be affected.  I remind myself how I’ve successfully come through other transformations.  How we handle change determines how we transform ourselves as a transformation most certainly will take place whether or not we are conscious of it.  I’ve found that accepting change brings peace as well as the opportunity to experience profound growth as I allow myself to inhabit other identities.

During the past year my identity has experienced serious changes.  Death of a spouse is a transformative experience.  A life change like no other.  While in my grief I haven’t always embraced this change with a tight bear hug, I have gathered it in my arms and heart as the only way forward.   I focus on the positives.  Being single has come with an unexpected amount of personal freedom.  I’ve definitely stepped outside my comfort zone and enjoyed doing it.  Without caregiving duties my mind has uncluttered.  I can focus on my health and well-being.   Recently, another widow shared how she redecorated her bedroom after her husband’s death.   This is a woman I admire for the resilience she has shown in the face of such a loss.  I didn’t redecorate my bedroom, but I did book a trip to Italy.  It seems we must take some action to embrace our current reality.

On my return from Italy I journaled my new life story re-examining who I am now and imagining what I will do and who I will be.  It helped.  Journaling allowed me to see on paper, in black and white, what resources I have in my bag of tricks and what I desire to do with them.  I let my imagination run wild.  This exercise was also a portal for expressing my gratitude for this transformation and all the transformations, which created my personhood.  Gratitude.  Acceptance.  Inspiration to take my plan and start implementing.  

The house, of course, is a symbol of this change, my personality, my hopes and dreams.  We break ground in September, in my mind representing the new territory I have entered.  Today, I bought the Seafoam blue metal lights, which will illuminate the island.  Tomorrow I start looking at flooring.  As I explore styles and options I, hopefully, will continue to feel confident in my decisions as I discover and grow and transform my life.

Copyright © 2023 kathysretirementblog.com – All rights reserved.

Jun 20 2023

Turkeys And A Groundhog

Turkeys grazing on the hill

I returned from Italy facing the daunting task of moving my household in the next three days.  It wasn’t supposed to happen that way.  The sale of my house was going well until it wasn’t.  At the end of April I had all my ducks in a row.  Based upon contractual requirements I planned to move to an apartment pre-closing as the sale was contracted to close before I flew to Tuscany.  But, not so fast said the universe.  As we all know the best laid plans of mice and women sometimes go astray.  After much angst and frustration, the sale did close.  But, with no time to move before my trip.

I went to Italy.  I came back to the US.  Fighting a head cold and jet lag I moved into my apartment.  Forget unpacking.  I slept for the next week.

I awoke one morning to find Chanel and Carmen glued to the patio slider, their tails sticking out from under the vertical blinds.  As I twisted the wand opening the blinds I couldn’t believe what I saw.  A band of four fat turkeys grazed in my backyard.  Because of my movement they stood like statues for a moment, one grouching in the tall grasses and wildflowers to hide herself.  As much as I wanted to dash for my phone to snap a photo I stood rigidly still myself.  Satisfied there was no threat the turkeys resumed bobbing their heads as they moved across the embankment nibbling seeds until they disappeared into the trees lining the crest.  One stopped for an instant looking back at the apartments as if gauging the safety of the environment, then disappeared with the others.

WOW!!!

My apartment, which is more like a one story condo, backs to a hill.  This hill is the main reason I chose this particular apartment.  Instead of attempting to mow it or put up a retaining wall, the developer had the presence of mind to plant the steep bank with wild grasses, clover, daisies and other wildflowers.  Mature trees were left on the ridge, another feature attractive to wildlife and humans alike.

Rummaging through a couple of boxes marked “books” I found my Pocket Guide To Spirit Animals by Dr. Steven Farmer, a psychotherapist, international lecturer, ordained minister, shamanic practitioner and best-selling author.  The property manager told me about turkey sightings.  Now, I wanted to explore if there was any spiritual meaning to my sighting.  Considering we are located not five minutes from every store imaginable with busy roads and snarled traffic, actually seeing turkeys in my backyard was a welcome treat.  They were also a reminder of how we had turkeys quite often on our South Carolina property as well as the property I just sold.  Martin produced paintings of turkeys along with a whimsical carving I bring out every fall.  I opened Farmer’s book to see what this visit by the turkeys may mean in a spiritual sense. Just seeing them had lifted my spirits.

Martin’s whimsical carving

As Farmer reminds us, “Those spirits that are in animal form that teach us, guide us, empower us and help us heal are called animal spirit guides or spirit animals.”  This has been known to indigenous cultures for centuries.  As Benjamin Hoff wrote in The Tao of Pooh, “Lots of people talk to animals…Not very many listen though…That’s the problem.”  As I flipped the pages to the meaning of the turkey sighting I was ready to listen.  Or so I thought.

As I read about how “It’s important to transcend the focus on your needs to consider the greater needs of the whole, such as your family, community, or world”  I felt a flush of skepticism.  I had spent years attending to Martin’s needs.  Didn’t I deserve to focus on my needs?  Then, “you’re about to receive a gift of some sort” and “perform some act that honors the earth” and “volunteer your time”.  Geez.  I closed the book not sure if I was ready to focus on someone else’s needs or volunteer my time again. I would accept any gift, large or small, with grace. I planted pots of herbs, flowers and small trees around my patio with the intention of giving them a permanent home when the house was built.

As the turkeys continued to come and go entertaining the cats and causing questions about my future to roil in my brain, I went onto the patio one day to eat lunch.  I sat down before I noticed an upright furry brown figure, paws together as if in prayer, chewing down some food – a groundhog.  As I eyed him or her, they eyed me back.  They stopped chewing, turned, waddled up the bank and disappeared into the trees.  I fetched the guide.

I liked the message of the groundhog better than the message of the turkeys.  The line that jumped out at me was, “You’re going through an initiation, one where you will experience a cycle of death-rebirth, and emerge with a new sense of self.”  Then, there was the portent of investigating a new area of study apparently requiring a lot of work on my part, but worth it in the end.  Following this, “pay close attention to your dreams at this time and see if you can discern their meaning.”

Suddenly, an epiphany.  As a normal part of the grief process my dreams often involve Martin being with me.  They are sometimes so real I think he is still in bed beside me.  Yes, I am going through an initiation of being on my own, my rebirth after his death and there is a new sense of self, especially after going to Italy on my own.  Turkeys were always Martin’s lure.  According to the guide they would be Martin’s spirit animal.  Wherever we lived, he was always drawn to the flocks of wild turkeys.  Perhaps their message is from him telling me it is ok to focus on my needs, which for me include engaging with family and community.  Perhaps the gift is knowing it’s normal for me to focus on other people, to volunteer again, to let go of the grief, to be a regular person enjoying time with our family and going out into the community.  I thought about the Master Gardener Program where I spent many enjoyable hours in South Carolina learning and teaching others about gardening. Training to re-enter the program in Michigan was something both satisfying for me and worthwhile for the community and world. I decided to accept my interpretation of the animal spirits as it was the only one I had.

Now, about that little black squirrel who dashes over the bank each morning…

Jun 5 2023

Enchanting Tuscany

Ordering lunch in Lucca

Two weeks ago I sat in the Botanical Garden of Lucca savoring my last afternoon in enchanting Tuscany.  I was alone on that day as all my fellow tour members had flown out of Pisa early.  Sitting on a bench under a hundreds year old maple I reflected on my trip to Italy.  Part of me was looking forward to going home; part of me wanted to stay.

As a first time traveler to Europe my trip was filled with wonder.  Wonder at the ancient colorful buildings and magnificent marble and brick churches.  Wonder at the region’s centuries old rich history.  Wonder at the delicious food, the lengthy relaxed meals, the local wines.  Wonder at the welcoming from the people of Tuscany.  Wonder at the natural landscapes dotted with blooming wildflowers, the vibrant gardens and the absence of manicured lawns.  Wonder at the walled city of Lucca with a history dating to the times before Christ now brimming with life at an unhurried pace.  Wonder at shops, which only held fruits and vegetables or only rich pastries and breads or meats and sea food or wines, olive oils and liqueurs.  Wonder at how our group walked down the middle of narrow streets parting to either side in order to let the occasional car pass.  One can only drive a car in Lucca if one lives in Lucca.  We had a ten minute walk each morning to reach our tour bus parked outside the walls of Lucca.  Inside the walls was a wondrous lifestyle like no other I’d ever encountered.

Amphitheater in Lucca

Part of a small tour group of 21 I had flown to Italy accompanied by a tinge of trepidation at what I might find going solo.  What I found were four others traveling solo or with a friend.  We soon connected for the lunches and dinners not part of the tour.  However, I found the couples in our group to be just as welcoming, joining us for a meal, a gelato or shopping in the many small stores.  The Hotel Ilaria where I enjoyed my one unpack with lovely accommodations, spread a late afternoon bar of Prosecco, beer, sodas, luscious pastries and fresh apples along with coffees, teas and waters.  So, we gathered late each afternoon to talk about our discoveries, engage with other travelers and rest up before a late dinner.  Restaurants don’t open for dinner until 7 p.m.  Our nights were late and our mornings early.  I loved every minute.  Despite the sometimes as much as five course meals and late afternoon snacking, with all the walking, as the week passed I found myself slimming down!  

Cinque Terre residences

While the entire experience was nothing short of magical, my favorite day was the long, long day visiting the Cinque Terre, the “five lands”.  These five tiny villages are located miles apart on the rocky hillsides of Tuscany along the Mediterranean Sea, their colorful buildings seemingly hung in the air above the water.  In recent years Cinque Terre has become a tourist destination with throngs crowding the cobblestone streets and small shops.  Consequently, we started our tour before 8 a.m.  Unable to take the bus into the narrow streets of Cinque Terre, our driver dropped us off within walking distance of the first village. It was a windy chilly morning with a light rain making me happy I wore a raincoat to Italy.  Unusual for this time of year we encountered drizzle every day.  Today, we hoped the sun would appear, the winds would die down and the choppy sea would eventually smooth out to allow a boat ride to one of the other villages.

As it turned out, there were two boat rides that day with the first slightly turbulent as winds produced tiny white capped waves, which buffeted the small vessel.  Since taking a boat or walking to the next village were the only choices, we queued up with other tourists and locals to take the boat despite the weather.  Standing single file on a path between gigantic walls of solid rock we waited, sheltered from the wind.  The rain had subsided.  Although I spent my childhood on the New Jersey shore, a boat on choppy seas was unappealing.  But, our tour director, Mick and guide for the day, Fredericka, were superb at handling our arrangements as well as any hesitancy about this adventure.  As we reached the shore of the next village we were all assisted by the crew with disembarking.  The boat continued to rock unsteadily.  I knew another transfer by boat was ahead, but pushed my concerns aside.

Shores of the Mediterranean

Following a lunch of ricotta stuffed pillows of pasta topped with walnut sauce, rigatoni with red sauce and fish, poached sea bass with roasted vegetables followed by a salad, we left the restaurant without eating dessert so we could catch a boat to meet up with our bus.  We emerged onto the square to sun and people lining up along the stone walkway to take one of the arriving boats.  Blue sky, blue waters and sunshine washed away my earlier feeling of uncertainty.  As we glided along the calm sea looking at the multi-colored ancient buildings lighting the hillsides in the warm sun I felt such joy, such peace. 

Side street in Carrara

I learned a lot on this foray into international travel, not only about traveling, but also about myself.  The most important lesson I learned about traveling is be prepared for anything to happen.  Stuff happens.  My “stuff” included an electrical outlet adapter that didn’t work, a cold and twice having difficulty finding my way around the Frankfurt Airport.   While it’s obvious no one can really prepare for the unknown, making yourself aware there will be unknown territory to negotiate goes a long way to induce calm no matter the situation.  

I am also extremely grateful to the friend who recommended I go business class.  It made the nine hour flight a lot more enjoyable as I had my own little cubby with a bed complete with fresh blankets and pillows, a TV screen, actual meals, whatever I wanted to drink, even a warmed wet washcloth for my face upon waking up.  One of the other benefits was the United business class lounges where I waited for my connecting flights in comfort, again with food, drinks, private bathrooms including some with showers and all of this away from the noisy, fast pace of the general airport.

As I sat on the garden bench on my last day ruminating on this adventure I smiled to myself.  What a wonderful time I’d had simply because I dared to take the leap of booking this trip.  Had I waited for someone to go with me, I probably never would have gone.  I think about what I would have missed.  Instead, I enriched my life experience by leaving the all too familiar comfort zone.  I learned I can go solo and have a fantastic experience.

While Lucca and Cinque Terre and Carrara with its 2200 year old marble quarries and the history of Michelangelo’s carvings, are magical places to me, they are more likely the familiar and mundane for their inhabitants.  I can’t help but ask the rhetorical, “Do they realize what a wondrous place in which they live?”  I don’t know.  What I do know is I want that unhurried slower paced lifestyle with great food and wine and natural landscapes and inviting gardens and fewer things and, of course, people to share it.  

Apr 30 2023

Moving Forward

I’m writing this one on the fly.  A short one at that. Now on the cusp of May, April was a whirlwind, kicking up dust everywhere, pushing me into my future.  And, there’s still so much to do.  I feel overwhelmed, yet exhilarated to be moving forward.  After putting my house on the market, it is under contract with the closing looming just ahead, the inspections and appraisal but an April memory.

During all of that, out of the blue came my optometrist’s diagnosis for cataract surgery.  Silly me, I thought I was just in need of a new prescription.  You know, aging and all.  When I couldn’t read a single letter on the chart using my left eye, my stomach felt as if an iron ball dropped into it.  My first instinct was to put surgery off until the house closed and I’d been to Italy and back.  But, if I was to see anything in Italy and find my way around airports, surgery was a must have it done.  I could feel my shoulders drooping under the additional weight.  Fortunately, it’s a common surgery and I was in good hands with people who orchestrated all the appointments, and there were many, without a hitch.   That’s now behind me.  After 30 years, I can see without glasses!  Tuscany here I come.

My son-in-law is a busy guy who has my new build on his calendar for an October start.  No, I don’t get favoritism for being his mother-in-law and I wouldn’t have it any other way.  Fair is fair, which brings me to finding a place to live for the next year.  Rents are high with few apartments available.  Feeling further burdened with finding a suitable temporary home, you can’t imagine the happy dance I did upon discovering a one story two car garage unit in a new walkable neighborhood at a reasonable rent.  And, both my roommates are welcome (meow meow).  

Now for the packing, closing, transferring utilities and the bazillion changes in address, moving, unpacking with no time to settle in before flying out to Tuscany for the trip of a lifetime.  My biggest worry? Yes, the cats. I’m upending their little lives then disappearing for ten days. Did I mention feeling overwhelmed?  Through all the packing I’ve thought seriously about becoming a minimalist.  Not joking.  With all the giving away, selling and donating over the last year I still have so much furniture and stuff, too much furniture and stuff.  But, I’ll address that at some other moment in time.  For now, I’m moving forward.  And, that is what counts.

Mar 20 2023

Rules

During the last 20 years a lot has been written, reported, spoken about being our authentic selves.  When the idea of living authentically first entered my head space, I was working.  I wondered then how that might be looked upon in our rule based society where fitting in was a job requirement for most of corporate America.  Different ideas were often met with, “but that’s the way we’ve always done it”.  Rules and policies reigned. Employee manuals included everything from acceptable behavior to dress codes. Group think or face the wrath assigned to anyone not perceived as a team player.

Going further back in time I grew up in a very conformist household.  My family was, like many other families of the era, rule based.  Rules for inside the home and rules for school, church and social activities.  Rules for speaking and rules for dress.  Rules for daily living and rules for thinking.  The rules were there to ensure that we did fit in, were accepted and belonged.  We had to act the part and look the part and sound the part.  We’ve all heard the saying, “Go along to get along.”  

From an early age I was always the odd girl out among my siblings.  I didn’t do sports or fishing or deep sea diving or horseback riding or going to the stock car races.  While the kids in the neighborhood played baseball in the empty lot, I reveled in books, dance, theater, music, art and anything avant-garde.  The Sizzling Sixties rocked my world and I enjoyed the ride.  Growing up an hour train or bus ride to New York City, I was smitten with the anything goes in the city that never sleeps.  Back in my little borough on the Jersey Shore, it was rules, beliefs, fitting in and being normal.  Anything I did that was different from the perceived normal was shamed and ridiculed ending with the refrain, “We don’t believe in that” or “We don’t do that” or my mother’s favorite, “Kathleen, how could you?!”.

From home, church and the school yard we move on to the work place.  Here’s where not fitting in can hit us in the wallet.  The job or career where we have to fit in, go along to get along and work, work, work to achieve more and more in order to gain higher levels of prestige, money and success.  We create goals to satisfy our egos and our supervisor’s annual review.  We burden ourselves with more tasks which, comes with more stress, perhaps competition, and sometimes jealousy, from co-workers, then more hours, education and experience grabbing to do the same thing over again.  We dress to fit the role we play.  For this t-shirt and jeans type, hands-in-the-dirt gardener, the designer suits, acceptable hair style, perfect makeup and well heeled look grated.  It wasn’t dress for success to me; it was a strait jacketed uniform that helped pay the bills.

Throughout our lives for any number of reasons we often strive to fit in, so we will belong, suppressing our very authenticity.  We self-edit our ideas and desires to become someone else’s version of normal, acceptable, to meet their reality.  It may be for family or societal pressure, to bring home a paycheck, to be liked.  For me, that always chafed as if I were wearing a pair of ill fitting slacks.  Retirement is a cathartic release of all the above.  As poet Mary Sarton said, “We have to dare to be ourselves, however frightening or strange that self may prove to be.”  Retirement is the opportunity of a lifetime to be truly authentic.  Whatever identity we wore in our previous two-thirds of life, we can now create an identity of our own making.  

Today I don’t have one designer anything in my closet.  My wardrobe consists of many pairs of my coveted jeans, t-shirts and sweaters.  I rarely wear jewelry, not even earrings.  I let my hair go gray years ago.  I write, read, paint, draw, listen to music, garden, of course, and plan solo travels like my upcoming trip to Italy or building my new house.  There will always be people who tell us we should do this or should do that.  They are thinking what works for them must surely work for you.  Listen to them, politely, if you can, then do whatever the hell you want!  You have nothing to prove to anyone.  You don’t need anyone’s approval.

To an extent we will always need to follow some rules as a society without rules is a mass of chaos.  I see this time as choosing to live my reality built upon my dreams.  I see it as I need people who support me, who may disagree with me, but people who accept my authentic self.  I see it as this time in my life is irreplaceable and it belongs to me with open arms for those who love me and I love in return.  I see it as wanting people in my life who see me as amazing as much as I see them as amazing.  In this moment I realize the gift of retirement is freedom to be who I am, where I am.  I no longer have to fit into someone else’s idea of me.  That’s my new reality.  That’s my rule now.