#141: However You Define It

My Christmas shopping trip to Toronto, on a Wednesday no less, is complete and I am now at home with a glass of wine.

That is what I call a good day's work.

#140: Morality

In yesterday's post (now edited, thanks to a sharp-eyed friend), it appeared that Spell Check was directing me to examine my "morality".  Oh oh.   Does Microsoft know something about me that I'm not aware of?  Was I being given advice?  Forget about encroaching old age and be a better person?

That slip of the Word made me think.  Retiring can be about "doing good" in a more active way than was possible when one was working, and for many this involves some sort of volunteer commitment that provides a real sense of satisfaction. It doesn't have to be a big deal either.  A neighbour says that her favourite retirement activity is doing quick repairs on clothing for the food bank clients she has come to know.  "It's a little thing, but it means a lot to them."

I'll keep this mind as I go off to the retirement home this afternoon and have another conversation with one of my "readers" who has dementia.  We have the same chat, with variation, week after week. Even if she doesn't remember me, she loves to see me and talk about books.

It's a little thing....

#139: I Have Company

I Was a Reluctant Retiree  is the reader essay in the Globe and Mail this morning.  Looks like there are a few of us out there.

The author, Elaine Peebles, retired 3 years ago and still finds the transition challenging.  She fills her time with tennis and travel and wonders if she did sufficient preparation for this big life change.  She still rankles at loss of identity.  I laughed to discover that like me, in spite of her new freedom, she still doesn't have enough time to read, and her basement remains unorganized.

I hear you, Elaine. But I sense that I may be a bit more settled in this new role and I wonder if it might come down to something as simple as age.  I suspect that I am older than lots of new retirees.  At almost 68, with mortality staring me in the face, I really had to decide how I wanted to spend the rest of my life.  It's that basic. 

And  besides (as I often explained to my library colleagues)  it's got to be awkward steering a walker up and down the stacks.

#138: Anniversary

I has been over six months since I retired so I'm thinking I should make some thoughtful comment about my new condition.

However, the only thing that occurs to me is that our evening meals are slightly more interesting now that I can spend more than 15 minutes preparing them.  In other words, I have not purchased a rotisserie chicken since last June.   

Until yesterday.  In need of an instant meal I broke down and bought a precooked bird in a little plastic coffin.  Here is what I discovered:  the price has gone up $3.00 since last summer and the chicken is much, much saltier than I remember.  Perhaps extra salt costs more.  Regardless, I am sure the salt is part of a plan to lure me back to my old chicken-a-week habit.

Can't be done.  I'm immune.

Hear this, chicken pushers.  In retirement I have time and energy to resist.  I wasn't buying those birds because they were delicious. It was all about convenience, and now I have more options.   

#137: ZZZZZZZZZZ

I like to ask retired folk what they like best about not working, and sleeping in comes high on everyone's list. I even had a volunteer last year who told me that since retiring from a job that required a long commute and an early start,  I shouldn't count on her for anything before 11 a.m.

I'm energetic long before 11, but I do find that I am no longer rising at 7.  Without the alarm clock imperative,  it just feels right to listen to one's body and mine tells me that 7:30 is good enough.

But not today.  Today I worked a morning shift at one of our branches, so I was up early and on the road by 9. It was OK.  I didn't mind it but only because I don't have to do it again until next Saturday.

I am beginning to think that a lot of working people must be sleep deprived.

    

#137: Hip Hat

In search of a tolerably acceptable hat to wear with a puffy red winter jacket, I went into a shop downtown that specializes in hemp products.  Guelph has no Gap, but we have Hempire.

There was a really cute hat in the window, so I determined to try it on and chose to ignore the fact that I was four times older than anyone else in the store.

The salesgirl (and she really was a girl) took a long time to get to me because she was dealing with a couple of young men.  I didn't mind.  You can learn a lot overhearing people's conversations.  Not every retiree can list all the advantages of using a glass bong.  Also how to make a bong from a McDonald's cup in case you are smoking up in public.

I guess that is called added value.   

I bought the hat, of course, and I will feel extra cool wearing it.

#136: Out, Out, Out

Yesterday, I was the emergency librarian at one of our branch libraries where there are tons of teenage patrons.  Some of them were creating a ruckus and as I escorted them to the door, I realized that nothing says "retired" like a feeling of complete calm as one invites a group of very noisy teenagers to leave the bulding.

Was I truly pissed at them?  Not particularly.  Did they need to leave?  Yes.  Did the confrontation cause me any problem at all?  No way.

In the past I would have been concerned that this was an escalating behaviour problem that I would have to deal with on a day to day basis.  It would have made me feel anxious.

But I'll never see these kids again. So I could do the right thing without a second thought.

I must be retired.