T Minus 24

Oh my, the list is long and the excitement is building.  We are hooking up to Mini and pulling out of our driveway in about 24 hours!  I will likely be awake until we do, checking lists, running to the store (we aren't going to the wilds of Alaska but I feel like I want Mini all ready with what she needs!), packing bins (which go in the back of the truck), packing Mini (advice was to jam her tight so when we are on the road things don't get tumbled about), dealing with last-minute bills, tenants, packing the briefcase with all our papers (for Mini, for Miss O, including passports!) saying Good-Bye to Comcast (and that hefty $200 plus monthly bill) and forwarding mail (forwarding to a loved one to review for emergency letters/packages we might need to follow up on en route).  And, we have been back and forth about taking Miss O on the trip but she is coming!  And, so in preparation, I am giving her a bath, making sure she has her launch-ball for exercise (and tennis balls), her dental water additive (brand new bottle), her leash, here gentle leader, lots of poop bags, Benedryl (sorry girlfriend, but you may be enjoying a medicated slumber now and again...hey, it was the vet's orders for our Nervous Nellie), and her meds (K9 Advantix and Interceptor Plus).  Not wanting to leave the house in a shambles (looks like a pre-adventure bomb went off this morning with papers everywhere, bins half-packed, washed and cleaned clothes folded into piles all around and dishes needing to be cleaned out of the dishwasher) I am vacuuming and making beds and doing one last load of dishes before we leave town.

It's exciting and a little nerve-wracking.  Tonight is the last night in our wonderful home for what could be months ("What will I miss and what should I take," I wonder as I walk around trying to remember everything). Tomorrow is about 5 or 6  hours into New York.  And, the next night is about 5 or 6 more hours farther into New York.  "No worries, Mam, lots of room here," I was told by the campground staff I called to make reservations for both New York campgrounds, "This is past Labor Day and mid-week."  So far so good.  Friday we arrive in Toledo (and get to sleep in a house) for a great weekend with the Markley clan. 

Stay tuned!  Next post will be literally from the road (I am all set for wifi and iTunes and keeping my laptop powered up as I sit in the co-pilot's seat, with two gadgets I bought from Best Buy).  Or that first on-adventure post may be from a campsite with my feet up with my wonderful husband, Ken (aka Rusty) and Miss O by my side!  Or, with rain expected in New York on Thursday, I may be posting from inside our new tiny home! 

And that is how it will go....we will just embrace what is next.  We will awake each morning and ask, "OK, day, what do you have in store for us?" 

Comfy little family inside Mini!

Dr. Thirty Something

Up until now, I have been able to get by with yearly visits to my cardiologist who would do blood work and take my blood pressure and my gynecologist who would do the pap and mammogram and also take my blood pressure.  I also had a nurse who was very competent with triaging who worked in the school I worked at who was there every day of the school year.   With no medical concerns or complaints (thank you, God and maybe my genetics!),  I have had no need to visit a general practitioner who would do a breast exam, check my blood pressure and ask me a few questions, and so stopped years ago.  But there is more,  I probably really stopped going to a general doctor because of a nervous and maybe inept physician who very dramatically,  sent me rushing in an ambulance to the ER for a heart arrhythmia (yes, it was a complicated one but I clearly was not having a heart attack as I had had the irregular heart beat for several weeks and I later found out that is not so unique around menopause!).  That was several years ago.  In fact, my last visit to that medical group was so long ago I now have to make a written request for my medical records that are archived by a special company!

Of course, and duh, as we age so do our medical team members (which was initially shocking to me) and this is an adjustment I just don't like to make.  My beloved gynecologist died last year.  56 years old and she lost her battle with a rare cancer.  Then my cardiologist retired last year, as well, looking like he had a stroke the last time we met.   And, of course, I retired and so no longer have access to Dr. Nurse at my school.  My little medical team is no more.  Learning to embrace change and transition is my new personal goal.  And so just yesterday, in preparation for retirement and for our trip,  I finally went to meet a potential new doctor.  I had read up on her and she came recommended by a friend.  She's committed to preventative care and runs marathons (so she takes are of herself and others, which I like).  Actually, the friend was recommended by my cardiologist but seemed a little awkward using your friend as your doctor and so I choose to see her colleague.  I was ready to say, "Hello, yes, yes, but I don't really like you so I will try another doctor."  This is one great thing about being older and wiser.  I don't just accept what's in front of me.  I take the option of reviewing everything and if it doesn't feel right, I choose to look elsewhere.  But....she was smart and kind and calm and open to my questions and lists.  She was also very.......young.  I will call her Dr. Thirty Something.

As I left,  happy to have a new doctor to "case manage" me as I age and give me advice about my health (get a shingles vaccine she advised me because I am over 60),  but it was as an odd feeling looking at Dr. Thirty Something thinking, she might be tending to me on my death-bed (retirement has made me much more reflective about my mortality...and when did I start looking like my mother?), but then, again, at least she most likely won't die before me or retire in my lifetime!  

Playing Hooky

Yesterday I went to lunch with a colleague who also retired this year.  She did the same job I did but in a different school district and with a different age of kids.  Driving to meet up with her in a town nearby, I kept thinking that something was missing, something wasn't right, that I was going to get caught!  I felt like I was playing hooky from school.  And then when we sat down for lunch we started reminiscing, smiling and remembering kids who would run out of the classroom when the fire alarm rang yelling, "Save me, save me!!!" Or the kids who would burst into my room like a whirling dervish with a wide-eyed paraprofessional hot on their heels and who I'd have to clear the room for ("Excuse me, Mrs. Green, you might want to go work with Jennifer elsewhere right now.") as I turned down the lights, and settled the child next to the aquarium in the quiet corner with a book to calm down.  As we went on with these really great and warm memories, I started to miss my work, the kids, and wondered if I had retired too early.  My friend and I worried/wondered about how certain kids would do (did the staff remember what notes we made, comments we made about a particular student?  did they care?)  and reflected on how many years we had done our work (and done a good job) and the fact that now, poof, all our expertise and experience was no longer used.  And just as I was starting to really miss my work my friend took a deep breath and said, "But I don't miss the chaos of scheduling, the struggle to get some teachers to understand who kids with challenges really are, the consuming nature of that kind of work, the unending paperwork and computer data entry........"  And, I no longer felt like I was playing hooky.  I felt like I had spent many years in the work I was meant to do and happily moving on!

UpKeep of the Newly Retired

Me in NYC with brother - trying on "products"

Last night I had to laugh as I congratulated myself for completing every task on my evening To-Do-Before-Bed list.  Frequently, and knowing better, I just plop into bed.  So as I settled under the covers last night, knowing that I had "checked" off every item on that list, I was amused and not a little proud of myself.

What's on that upkeep list, you ask?  Well, first, I swallowed (choked down?) the entire mountain of pills I lay out each day and don't always take because it's an intimidating number of caplets and softgels not easily consumed in even two handfuls.  In fact I can be a bit of a gagger when it comes to pills.  "No problem," I tell my granddaughter, " just put a few into your mouth, take a gulp of water, relax and swallow."  I know this routine well because that's what I do every time I ingest that gag-worthy pile of pills.  I take all these pills in hopes of ensuring a healthy entrance into retirement and onto the next 33 years.  I write "33 years" because our financial planner recently wrote 95 as my "termination" date on some paperwork related to our investments.  Termination date?  What if I don't want to die in 2049?  I guess that's how the accountants, attorneys and number people view death in the financial world, terminated like the T-800 cyborg as he melts into the giant fiery, molten abyss in the 1984 syfy movie Terminator.  You know,  the movie where Schwarzenegger says in a deep and foreboding voice dripping with a thick German accent, "I'll be back."  Wait, that was T2 (Terminator 2...bit of a syfy fan,  I am).  In the 1984 movie he was crushed to death.  Terminated, crushed, either way I am supposed to be gone from this earth in 33 years according to my financial planner.  And 95?  I'll take that but hoping it's a healthy skiding-to-the-end 95 and that my husband is by my side although his "termination" or expiration date was listed as 90.  He tells me, in response to hearing his life is predicted to end at 90, "We're doing a Thelma and Louise at some point so there won't be one of us left to mourn the other!"  He's such a romantic.  Just the thought of us, Rusty and Flo, rolling our battery-powered wheelchairs over the nearest cliff makes my heart flutter...

Anyway, back to the boatload of anti-aging supplements, what makes me laugh is the shear number of pills I take (or at least lay out to take), and that none of them are prescription, thankfully not yet (my friend says how lucky I am to not have liver, heart, bone, or some other health problem I need a pill for but I tell her, hey, I had all the mental health struggles in my family's biology so we are even).  Here's the impressive list of supplements/spices/oils I lay out each day in hope of taking:   CoQ10; Multi For Her +50; Triple Omega 3-6-9 (flax, fish, and borage (?) oil); low dose safety coated aspirin; OsCal Extra D3 calcium supplement; advanced and double strength glucosamine chondroitin with calcium and vitamin D3; turmeric curcumin with Bioperine (?).  Just writing that list makes me wonder what the hell am I really taking...Bioprene (just looked that one up - thermoplastic tubing? or I am hoping, what's added to my turmeric curcumin is the other definition....black pepper fruit extract which I know makes tumeric more "bioavailable")!  This whole concoction is supposed to support my aging bones, my aging immune system, and my aging cardiovascular system.  I hope so.  I am counting on this.

Next on my list is the events that happen in the bathroom prior to bed.  The cleaning events.  And, so I went upstairs and tended my teeth by whitening them, flossing them, brushing them, and  then by swishing around non-alcohol mouthwash (my frizzy-haired dental assistant tells me, "Alcoholic mouthwash dries your gums out.").  I finish this little regime by using those tiny green scrubbing brushes to dislodge any lingering piece of meat, onion or mushroom that could still be hiding out between my teeth.  Although none of this will help with the fact that my aging capped teeth (some of those caps are 30 years old at this point) will soon need to be re-capped because they are, as the dentist put it, "Just old," I am counting on this nightly dental plan to at least help keep my gums healthy ("Your gums are slightly receding but then you are older," my non frizzy-haired dental hygenist casually commented the last time she dug and scraped around in my mouth).  I am also thinking, this should keep me cavity free. 

Done with teeth I move onto my aging and wrinkled  (wow, what's going on around those eyes I wonder as I look in the mirror?) face.  Using Neutrogena cleansing towelettes to remove my makeup  (with lavender in it to promote quality sleep....."night calming" it's advertised as....oh and by the way, Prevention magazine calls lavender the sweet scent of sleep! And who knew that Latin derivation of lavender is "to wash" and that the University of Maryland Medical Center endorses lavender because "research confirms" that lavender can have a soothing, calming, sedative (?) effect).  So, it turns out these little wash cloths I have been using at night not only rid my pores of grime but they apparently sedate me, as well.   Maybe that's why I have been sleeping so soundly ever since retiring?  Anyway, next I smeared on a grainy white mask (from an expensive cosmetics company my brother who looks 40 at 52 recommended to me, Rodan + Fields REDEFINE) all over my cheeks, forehead, neck.  This has to sit and "harden" on my face for a bit before being washed off and so I walked into the bedroom where my husband was getting ready for sleep (he takes off his pants and shirt and lays down), "You look like an aborigine with that stuff on your face and your hair all wild. You should look in the mirror and take a picture of that!"  Um, thanks, husband.  After 8 minutes I returned to the bathroom, washed off the aboriginal facial, and slathered on a nightly (well, supposed to be nightly!) and inexpensive, drug store alpha hydroxy and aloe anti-wrinkle cream (my brother would gasp at my second-rate night cream), checked for loose chin hairs (yeah, when the aesthetician said she noticed a long hair coming out of my chin at my last visit and wanted to know if she should pull it, I wanted to say, no, really, I was hoping another one would grow so I could braid them!).

Done with the head, my nightly regime is still not complete until I hop into bed and, laying there, cream my feet with a thick foot cream (this has to be the last thing on my list to do because if I do it before crawling under the bed covers, I have to creep ever so carefully across our bedroom hardwood floors so as to no feel like I'm riding a banana peel as I slip my way across the room from bathroom to bed).  I have few pet peeves but for some weird reason I hate nothing more than those hideous, unattended cracked heels you can see on some women as they break out their summer sandals (don't they even look before they wear?) and so thick foot cream goes on those little feet of mine (hey, what's that old-lady bump on my right big toe?)  right before I close my eyes.

Pilled, flossed, brushed, washed, and creamed....nighttime upkeep complete.  Check, check. 

Tired, Retired, Whatever I am I am Way too Busy

I woke up this morning saying to myself, "That's it."  I mean this in the deepest way I can.  I feel like ever since I briefly rested (took 2 days to lolly around) after my official retirement date, June 30, I have been going like a bat out of hell.  I am not sure if it's just my nature to work hard (maybe?) or if it's more because I have such a ginormous list of what I want to do now that I supposedly have all the time in the world to do it.   But I am, and have heard myself telling the decorators, my trainer, my yoga mentor, my jewelry teacher, even Mary at the post office,  'Yes, thank you, I am so happy to be retired, but you know, I'm feeling overwhelmed."  And then I wonder about what I just said; aren't I retired?  Just this morning I told my husband, "I feel like I'm back at work with such a long list of things to do today!"  To those of you who continue to work full-time, I apologize and I apologize to all the mothers who work (I have never understood how you do THAT); but as I arose this morning I knew it was really time to get a grip. 

Where does the tired come from you retired person, you ask?  Well,  I want to work out every day and have a trainer/coach who I really like working with who is very serious about body work.  "Move every day," she tells me and I believe her and want to do that along with fitting in lifting weights, rolling, getting in some good cardio and remembering to schedule in a very specific local yoga class by the most body-knowledgable instructor around to stretch and keep limber, those well-worked, albeit, 62 year-old muscles.  In addition, I want to spend focused and creative time on my metal jewelry and giant yard art which I LOVE doing (wasn't being an "artiste" one of my retirement visions?) and yet often miss that special Friday art class because I am, as I text my jewelry mentor, "Sorry, too busy for class today!" I also want to redecorate/renovate my home (and am so excited to do this and it's been on my "list" for 2 years).  Yet just telling the young decorators (free consult) what I want to do and how I really, yes, really, want to pretty much do it all myself, exhausts me.  And I wouldn't even dare to take these two gals downstairs to show them the packed-to-the-rims basement ("That's a long term project", I tell them) that I want to perfectly organize ala "The LIfe-Changing Magic of Tidying Up:  The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing" (I think I need to re-read that book and apply it to my life).  Add to all this, I want to plan the perfect trip in Mini (our brand new 21 foot travel trailer which took weeks to research and finally purchase) as we head out on our maiden U.S.A. Northern Route tour and voyage 6 weeks from now.   So, of course, I have been checking atlases, websites, reading everything I can get my hands on to see how campgrounds are rated, do they allow dogs, what kind of services do they have and how much are we going to pay.  And, Miss Mini requires insurance (checking many to get the best price), taxes/tabs through the town (wait until August 1 my husband says, we will save money!), sheets for the murphy bed, and complete stocking of bathroom and kitchen for our upcoming weekend "let's try her out" camping trips (swiftly coming up the next two weekends) which also took time to arrange, coordinate, pay for.  I have vowed  to be a minimalist with Mini ("No more stuff," I tell my husband)  but we do need to stock toilet paper (biodegradable) and dish soap (environmentally friendly?) along with a few clothes and a pillow or two.

And, then summer is always the busiest time with rentals (but, no regrets here, this is WHY I and hubby can retire earlier than most).  But I have 5 leases and 2 re-rents to contend with and one cranky tenant, well and another tenant who I have to pull the rent out of monthly but that's an ongoing problem.  This re-renting sounds easy enough but to turn around a unit involves advertising (and uploading current pictures), writing leases, setting up showings, meeting, calling references, cleaning......Thank goodness we decided to not purchase another house, although we seriously considered it (with all the calls to mortgage people, financial people, sellers).  I am pretty sure if we had pursued one more acquisition of one more property at this point in time, my husband would have arrived home from work one evening, soon like next week, to watch me jumping around in the yard like a crazy person and running off into the woods with the dog at my heels.  He, not me, was the one to say, "I think we have too much on our plate right now."  Ya think?  This is not what I expected in retirement.  Oh, and, I am busily and happily planning a yoga weekend in two weeks, of course co-leading and looking ahead to wonderful yoga workshops next year!  The woman, my yoga mentor, who I am running the workshops with and who owns a local yoga studio interviewed me by way of advertising for our upcoming workshop weekend.  Her first of two questions was, "So you are retired.  Why are you wanting to do yoga therapy with kids?"  Why, I ask, am I?

Add to all this, we now want to travel to Thailand this winter.  And, for whatever reason, I have turned into Martha Stewart, the party planner, inviting every body over all the time for a BBQ or quick lunch, "Who do we have coming over this weekend?" my husband asks every Friday morning.  So, with this new day, nearly one month since official retirement, I am back to writing, yoga, meditation every morning and then, and only then, seeing what the day holds and keeping my panties on, taking it one thing at a time and enjoying all the free time I am supposed to be having in retirement!  But, first I need to address that giant list of "to dos" our new financial planner (who I really am happy is working with us!) sent me.

And, as I get ready to push, "Publish" for this blog post (of course I'd love to also get back to writing that book and publish a post here daily!), I see a little book right by my side on the end table, "Yoga Therapy for Stress And Anxiety."  I think I better re-read that book as well!  Or just take a deep breath.....ommmmmmmm. Oh, and do a few more training sessions with Olive, our barky/lively lab who I am sure I can train into calmness in these next 6 weeks before we embark on our cross country adventure so she doesn't irritate our camping neighbors with her hyperactivity  (or I may just do what the vet suggested, give her 2 Benedryl!).....yep, time to get a grip!

Do You Hear it?

Unheard Music

For a long
time, she
flew only
when she
thought
no one
else was
watching

 Flying Woman 
~Brian Andreas
 

 A friend retired today and is moving on with a new life.  I am retired, she's retired, I have many friends who have gotten to the point of retiring and literally moving on with a completely different life and it's always a complex transition full of mixed emotions.  This particular friend is a tad older than me and has been a confidant for a number of years.  Growing up with a mentally ill mother, trusting has come hard for me.  But, over time and through conversation, I came to trust this woman.  Through our friendship I learned how to nurture myself because she was always such a believer in me.  Sadly (and although I have a bad case of childhood amnesia I do remember this) my mother had the nasty habit of smiling and grabbing me in a hug and then the very next moment, and always unexpectedly, verbally lashing me in the face (as if she had absolutely no control of herself, which, of course, she didn't).  It was impossible to learn learn how to be nice to myself because you learn all you know about yourself and how to relate to and with yourself from those most near you as a child.  As a result of this unintentionally inept mothering (and I do forgive my mother), I basically learned to not trust anybody, relying only on myself, which made my life really hard for a number of years.  Female and male friendships I had long ago were borderline abusive and/or I was always the helper/listener (a role I learned well taking care of my crazy mother).  But, through this friendship, I learned what it meant to have a "good enough" friend and in that developed such a more kind relationship with myself as well as with others (and the little girl inside of me who was hurt so long ago, flying when no one else was watching).  During that last cup of coffee we shared, she thanked me through sharing the poem, below, by Brian Andreas.  I was reminded once again that we really do effect one another, don't we?

And, so even though I may not have said it at the moment we parted because it's deeply painful to say so long, good-bye, have a nice life and happy retirement to some body who has changed my life in such a profound way and who I will likely never see again in this lifetime as she is off on her retirement adventures and I on mine, I want to thank her, from the bottom of my heart for being there for me.

We will miss each other.  And this is how it should be, isn't it?

Don't you hear it? she
asked & I shook my head
no & then she started to
dane & suddenly there 
was music everywhere &
it went on for a very long 
time & when I finally
found words all I could
say was thank you

Unheard Music 
~Brian Andreas  

 

From Story People by Brian Andreas

Pooped and Prepped Pup

Olive, Olivia...Little Ms. O

We are taking Olivia (aka Olive and well, that alias is a whole other blog post!) with us on our U.S.A. trailer trip.  I am a little worried about Ms. O because she can be a barky greeter with hair raised (a golden strip of auburn-colored doggie hair that literally stands up on on high alert about half way down her back) at the sound of a knock or sometimes at the sound of a tree branch cracking/knocking somewhere outside.  It's like Pavlov's dog.  Sound, bark, reaction.  Her hair goes up and as her happy lab tail joyfully wags back and forth, all 58.6 pounds of her (down from a hefty 86 pounds 2 years ago!) charges defensively towards whatever demon (human or otherwise) she believes darkens the doorstep of our peaceful little home in the woods.  Given that our impending adventure launch date is some 5 weeks away,  I am determined I can tame the beast (hey, I used to work with kids who spit, hit, ran away, called the principal, "Mr. Shitty Pants"and/or ran up and down the halls of the elementary school I worked at barefoot....I can do this!) and so am back into being her personalized doggie trainer complete with a clicker, treat pouch, and training sessions.  She's a smart pup and already has re-learned (for we once went to puppy school and she graduated with honors) to, "Come!" when I call or "Leave it!" when I command (yell? scream? try to say with an even tone).  Even in full bark and charge mode, she is just beginning to hear my words, stop, and turn and then walk straight to me for the tiniest piece of chopped salami or cheddar cheese.  I am feeling confident she will learn to be a better greeter before we roll away with Mini literally trailing behind us (husband's warning...do not leave the dog tied to the travel trailer before departing).  But just in case we have to continue our training on the road and in Mini, my ever-crafty husband has plans to reinforce the lower portion of our cute little screen door so she doesn't lunge from trailer to the outside world, barking and charging and shredding as she defends us from whatever she believes threatens our very existence.

Traumatized and resting, drooping on the couch

 But, preparing to bring a pooch on a trip in a trailer across the United States has turned out to be quite a job.  Talking with friends who camp, ladies who run campgrounds, and reading anything I can find on the internet (because you can always believe what you read on the internet), I soon realized you need updated puppy papers (kind of like her passport, I guess) to gain admittance at campgrounds and to legally cross the Canadian border.  Once, when I barely knew my husband, we took a road trip in his little red Toyota with his mellow black lab, Cocoa.  We were headed to Quebec.  As we approached the customs station at the border, my husband casually drapped a blanket over Cocoa's head (after he had her sit at my feet on the passenger side of the truck) and said, "Keep her quiet."  I was terrified we'd be arrested and jailed and yet we rolled away from the little shack and men in official looking costumes (oops...uniforms) and right into Canada; repeating the same frightening process on our way back into the states.  Once again, I digress, but I see the need for papers.   And so today we visited the local vet (Dr. Abby H. who looked about 11 years old with baggy pants, pink tennis shoes and several pimples on her face...what happened to the bearded, pipe-smoking, confidence-inspiring Dr. James Herriot?....you know the guy from All Creatures Great and Small?) where Olivia was poked with several needles (rabies vaccine included), invaded through her nose with a distemper mist, restrained while her ears, teeth, and eyes were examined and weighed.  Along with the 20 questions we answered (I felt like I was in the pediatrician's office with a 2-year old) and the poop sample we left behind not to mention the hefty bill (nearly $300) we were in and out in less than 30 minutes. 

In the end we have a pile of papers for a healthy Ms. O so we can set sail, commence or otherwise embark on our exciting vacation with pup ready to go.  But, first, she needs to recover  from her nerve-wracking visit to the vet:) 

Recovering, snoring pup

Groupon Coupon - Another Bargain for the Trip

My husband is a big fan of bargains (and is quite the bargain hunter...see previous post on the cap he bought for the truck, saving us $1200).  He loves Groupon.  A few weeks ago he sent me an e-mail with  a Groupon coupon attached (just writing this "groupon coupon" makes me smile).  Advertised on the page were several things you could buy:  a Biplane Trip over Acadia Park via Acadia Park Tours ($199 on sale for $84), a One Hour Private Archery Lesson via Lakeside Archery ($30 on sale for $12), Water-Park Visit for Two FunTown SplashTown USA for $33 (normally $54), Monthly Delivery of Doggie Goods from Barkbox ($99 on sale for $68) or a personalized throw blanket (originally $79.95 but Groupon coupon price was $16.99).  My husband wrote in his e-mail to me, "Let's get one of these for our anniversary and for the trip."  I assumed he meant the photo blanket for our travel trailer, Mini, although it might have been fun if not useful to take archery lessons since we will be traveling the wilds of the U.S.A and this skill might come in handy for defense (squirrels?  maybe chipmunks?) or a quick dinner.  In any event, my husband's sentimentality never ceases to amaze me.  He's always reminded me of Grizzly Adams (although less so now that he has dropped some 30 pounds!) with a loud, deep (sexy!) voice, big muscular and tall body, now with a grey beard and all, and yet he has always had this big, soft and loving heart.  

Anyway, back to the bargain......early this week I found a good-sized soft and squishy package, stuffed into our mailbox that stands out on the cul-du-sac (now that's a strange word, comes from the French, "bottom of a sack"?) at the edge of our property.  I had no clue what might be inside and, so, was surprised (maybe shocked) when I opened it up and then laid out this giant photo montage of Ken and I staring back at me (see photo, above, and think, this is the size of her loveseat and there are 9 enormous photos of those people!).  Along with noticing my ever-changing hair styles and the size of Ken"s face  (his face size fluctuates with every pound he gains/loses) I had burst into laughter and knew this was perfect for Mini.  Although I predict it's going to be more than a little weird sleeping under a photo collage of our own faces on a chilly night in Yellowstone National Park (yeah, I really didn't visualize this when adding and sorting all the photos to make this thing) and can only wonder what our camper neighbors will think when we air out our "personalized" blanket and they look over at 18 smiling Markley faces, but what fun.   This undoubtedly is a one-of-a-kind bargain (acrylic and made  in China, say what?) that celebrates our loving and long relationship getting engaged, being married, having anniversaries, traveling, retiring and being so excited about our upcoming trip. 


Groupon coupon...great idea (I think!) husband dear. 
 

Capped and Ready for the Road

There are so many things I love about my husband.  He's smart as well as clever, has a great sense of humor,  he's loyal, loving, kind, a great father/husband/grandfather, and has an adventurous and bold spirit, among many other qualities that make me fall more in love with him as each year unfolds.  And, he's a bargain hunter.  In preparation for our road trip, we bought Mini, our 21 foot travel trailer.  We love her but she's small.  Being small, she doesn't offer up much storage.  To solve that problem, my husband suggested we get a "cap" (say what?) for his truck so that we could have additional space to store stuff.  Although I am committed to being a minimalist on this trip (not buying anything until we need it), we are going to need access to a few more essentials than can fit into mini Mini.  Checking with friends and online we were sticker-shocked to find that the kind of cap we want/need can run up to $1500.  Wise and crafty husband started keeping an eye out on Craigslist and and found this baby, now happily snuggled into the bed of his truck.  The seller was offering this brand-new, custom black cap, specially designed for his Titan for $400.  Apparently he put it on his truck and just didn't like it.  So, he took it off and posted it for sale on Craigslist.  Used but unused.  My husband offered $300.  One quick trip to the outskirts of Portland, Maine last night and our new cap is road-ready.  It is fully carpeted inside (on the inside roof - sounds weird but it's not when you see it), has side windows with screens, locks in the back and looks perfect on husband's truck!  And, it's the brand name recommended to us as the best. 

One more step towards launch date! 

Retirement Midadventures and Happy Trails of the Traveling Markleys: Rusty, Flo, Mini and Olive

The trailer, the hitch, the truck...locked and loaded

With wild wind-blown hair...ready to see the U.S.

Three hours after we arrived at Campers Inn we were hooked up and ready to hit the road.  My husband, is in transition.  No, he is not going to start wearing a dress, grow his hair down to his shoulders, or put his size 12 Shrek feet into high heels.  He is retiring!  After working with no more than 2 consecutive weeks off at a time since he was 13, he is stepping down from his position as president of his company and literally moving on!  And with the "transition" I am going to try to start calling him Rusty.  Yep, not sure what I think of that but will try.  It's his mid-west name.  It's what our granddaughter calls him, "Grandpa Rusty."  It's what all the family in Michigan and Indiana call him.  Not Kenny, not Ken, but Rusty.  I am ready and willing to support my transitioning husband having transitioned myself not so many days ago :)

So, these pictures are taken after 3 hours at Campers Inn.  Yes, 3.  The moment we arrived we were greeted by a smiling face at the front desk (and hot dogs!) and directed to the service desk where we were introduced to Brian.  Brian is a trailer tech and an amazingly patient human being who was going to give us the low-down our 21 foot Rockwood trailer in terms of how everything works.  "So, one more time, you flush the black water, then the grey then pump the toilet and put the blue stuff in? I asked him for the 2nd, maybe 3rd time finally taking notes in my notebook.   Patient is the key word to describe this young man but he was also trailer tech smart and friendly.

Brian, amazing trailer tech man - is he hiding from us and our unending "inquisition" behind those yellow shades?

"Boy are we lucky and happy to get you to give us the trailer tour," I tell him about an hour and 1/2 in.  "Yes you are!" he smiles.  Yes, we were, indeed.  Together we spent 2 full hours in the blazing sun while he demoed and pointed and talked about every feature on our new trailer.  By the way, along with Ken's transition name, Rusty, we have named our trailer Mini.  See, her name is already right there on our trailer :P  Anyway, after learning how to pump black, grey, and clear water; how to use the outdoor shower (hot and cold water!); how to push the slider out (just the push of a button and the slider and the awning wake up and increase Mini's living space immensely); how to pump the toilet and how much water to fill in the bowl before/after you take care of business; how to pull down the murphy bed (queen-sized mattress lays right over he sofa); how to start the stove (I have to nearly lay on the floor to light the pilot light because inflexible husband won't be doing that little job); manage the radio/TV system (with indoor/outdoor speakers and TV hook-ups); and how to manage the hitching system along with signing paperwork, handing over a check, getting a sales pitch for EcoRVPro  (waxing the exterior and microbe repelling the interior?) and insuring it, we finally hop in, Ken steps on, oops, RUSTY, steps on the gas and all we hear is, "Click, click, click,"  ala National Lampoon Vacation!   "Not a good beginning," Rusty (who?) looked at me and we both laughed.  We both smiled and laughed...what an adventure this is going to be!  Apparently when another technician (in a green outfit so he is the hitching guy, I'm thinking because tech Brian was in a blue outfit), I digress.....when he was working on our hitch he apparently turned on the fan to cool down while hooking, unhooking and fiddling with the trailer lights/brakes in the 90 degree muggy New England July heat and accidentally left it on for so long that it drained our car battery.  With a quick jump and smiling apologies, however, we were on our way.

Rusty....relaxed and ready!

Yep, I am loving retirement, so far....the misadventures of Rusty, Flo (yes, my crazy name for our camper trips...hey maybe it should be Flow...now I like that!), Mini and our outlaw dog, Olive (that story is for another blog entry).  Transitioning....that's for sure!

Wally World, here we come! 

Landlords, Rents and New Property

Yesterday morning I worked on our real estate business (am I really retired?) by checking references on a new tenant for a house we have owned for a number of years.  The weirdest thing happened.  I called the reference (the current landlord) of the woman we were considering offering the house to.  I struck up a long conversation with her after she revealed that she was going through a divorce (it is amazing what people will tell you over the phone, people you don't know) and it turns out that the woman who applied to rent our house, I will call her Jenny, did so because the house she was living in was going up for sale.  And after talking with this landlord, a really friendly woman maybe in her 40s who said her husband is having a mid-life crisis (affair?) which is why they are selling the house (liquidating everything is what she told me) Jenny is currently living in, it looks like WE might want to buy that very house..  We are about to sell a house and we could do something called a like-kind exchange (because we are selling one property you can put that money into right back into another similar property and avoid taxes).  And, we could further avoid expenses (well the seller could) by not using a real estate broker.  So, as odd as life can be, there is the possibility that we could buy the house Jenny is now living in so she could stay put.   I immediately texted the two other great potential renters that they might want to hold on, the house we thought we had rented to Jenny may be again available!  Be ready for the unexpected door (or doors!) to open I am learning :)

Joyful Yoga Therapy

So, several years ago I went through a lot of yoga training.  I seemed much more interested in personal growth and managing my own tension than teaching or maybe I was just too busy working full-time in the schools to imagine helping anybody else in my spare time!  But, over the course of several years I was trained as an adult yoga teacher (200 and 500 hour), meditation teacher, a children's yoga teacher and a yoga teacher in the schools.  The yoga training that meant the most to me was the year-long yoga therapy training that I most recently (but still a few years ago) completed.  Yoga therapy speaks to me because it combines everything I deeply care about, physical, mental, emotional and spiritual health along with yoga philosophy and working individually with troubled souls.   It is true that over the years (taking my lunch to teach or teaching Friday afternoons after a long week working with complicated and often unhappy kids) I taught kids yoga and even yoga therapy.  But,  I have have waited until my divorce (retirement) from full-time work to really explore, enjoy, and get into yoga therapy to see what that can mean for kids.  And, the time is now.  So, with some ambivalence (interesting word because I do have a lot of "valent" feelings about doing this..shooting in one direction is "go for it!" and in another is "chill out, relax, contemplate your navel") and a lot of motivation to get my International Association of Yoga Therapists certification (149 hours to go!) I am holding a workshop with my amazing and wonderful yoga mentor that's all about kids and yoga therapy.  Doors close and others open.  Such is life....

Yoga Therapy for Kids

Retirement Days - One Marriage Saved

My husband awakes every morning, comes down the stairs and then with a cup of coffee in hand settles down right in front of the TV to watch the Today Show.  We have a 55 inch TV screen with a Sonos sound system. Big and loud.  Add to that, if a pin drops on the upstairs floor, I can hear that in the downstairs living room as though it hit the ground right next to me.   We warn guests who stay over as they make themselves comfortable in the upstairs guest room, "We can hear everything in our house."  For various reasons (heating, cooling) our house has lots of air flow which means, sound flow.  Sitting on the couch in the peace of the early morning, I can hear my husband roll over and shift in bed in the upstairs master bedroom (which is not directly above me) as he snores away.

My early morning routine is to get up way before than my husband (me up at 6:00 while he up at 9:00 on weekends), come downstairs, make a cup of chai tea and then listen to the birds and the trees and the chickens and whatever other peaceful sound that makes me happy and smile.  And then I settle into writing and/or reading followed by yoga and meditation.  So although I am so very happy to see my cheery husband each and every morning I dread the blaring of the TV that soon follows his appearance. 

Some 10 years ago I spent $14.99 for these wireless headphones pictured above.  Recently, I have been asking my husband if he might wait a bit before turning on the TV in the morning and he, well, hasn't wanted to.  I have worried about how we will work this one out when we are both in retirement (I have been warned by women who have retired husbands at home all day who basically drive them crazy).  Luckily for us, my husband mentioned seeing a box of wireless headphones in the basement. I bought these for him years ago but that was when we lived in a 3,000 sq. ft. condo and I could always find my happy and quiet space.  After a battery change, a little research along with sound (hahah) advice from a good friend who's livelihood is installing sound systems, we plugged these little marriage savers into the back of the cable box yesterday morning.  Voila!  I found my little piece of morning heaven and so did Mr. Husband.....together but doing our own thing...you gotta love it!