Playing Retirement

Preparing for retirement benefits from a staycation to toy with all the questions.

Photo by Diana Parkhouse on Unsplash

Monday Morning: The alarm didn't go off. Its melody that starts soft and escalates upward never reaches that heart attack intensity of old clanging clocks. Still, it inspires a groan as we hoist our girths from the mattress to succumb to the demands of the day.

This particular Monday in April, however, its voice was turned off, allowing us the sublime luxury of sleeping in until … oh … eight or so? We took the opportunity for a blissful cuddle. Granted, it wasn't the acrobatics of our earlier years, but very nice all the same. And what brought us this bounty of time and sloth?

Reaching peak burnout at work, Jeff took a spontaneous week off to do some spring projects. So we weren't exactly bound for unabated indolence. What did transpire along with the clean-up and planting frenzy was a chance to practice retirement. Kind of like playing "House."

At 67, he's old enough to claim his pensions and pursue leisure. HA! The man has so many wanna-dos on his list, he'll be pottering about the garden for years. And I will be able to enjoy his sense of humor and conversation more often.

Jeff hanging out with Jim Marshall, Ed Eggert sitting, and Sheila and Leroy Clement at a ham radio Field Day event.

What's more, he can join his long-retired buddies at the BBQ place. He's also looking forward to learning how to play mus at JTs, our favorite Basque restaurant. He might even expand his mental road map beyond his route to and from work with these outings.

We've had pretty good staycations in the past. Looking back, though, some activities may not be sustainable over the long term. During this vacation, our Friday night ritual dinner out marking the weekend became a daily thing. Our Sunday drives occurred several times that week.

In fact, after a couple of days of joint-wrenching work, we bailed on the weeds and escaped for a drive over Monitor Pass that had opened that weekend after the shortest winter in recent history. Another excursion took us out to Middlegate Station for their luscious hamburgers. Two hours each way, but it's worth it. And those wide open desert skies wipe away all thoughts of household chores.

Then we dropped in to the Museum of Art in Reno and discovered their newest exhibit that hailed the paleontologists who excavated the ichthyosaurus fossils. That's the Nevada State Fish. An extra treat was a display of baskets and other items woven by Washi-siu craftspeople. We hadn't visited that museum, or any museum, for a long time. Once retired, we could make that a frequent habit.

With an open schedule, we can attend other events, too, such as the Tuesday night farmer's market. When we arrived at last week's opening, almost every vendor was packing to leave by six, having sold most of their stock. Getting home from the job at 5:30 and hungry for dinner makes it difficult to take advantage of such things. It was like arriving at the last ten minutes of a good party.

Then there's the normal bumping around the house. While I've achieved a certain routine over the years, he'll need to work out his own rhythm away from managers' expectations. Our two bodies in the kitchen cause a closeness that hinders the simple act of making breakfast. We're foggy enough before coffee. One of us has to get out of the way.

Our food budget will change as the lunch sack retires as well. His diet may even improve as office snacks evolve into healthier meals. I've been experimenting with how to feed this man for over forty years, and the process continues as we age. Portion control, between-meal grazing, variations on the menu all need a reset. Especially the portion control. That goal will die if we eat out every day. I do like the social aspect of dining out as well as the rest from cooking. One habit we could establish is smaller orders shared between us, followed by a take-home box. It's amazing how little food one requires in the elder years.

While resting between the week's garden projects, he proclaimed, "this place is a busy-box." That's a good thing for a retiree, right? How long will it take before he finishes all the must-dos and wanna-dos before he parks himself in the barcalounger? Will we celebrate wearing our jammies until noon as a Personal Best?

Will we continue living our separate lives in the same house, ensconced in our laptop worlds, or will he follow me around wondering what to do? At the moment, I doubt it. Perhaps those LINUX lessons he's been pondering for the local community college will keep him engaged. There's also a part-time job at the hardware store, his favorite place in the world.

We do have our own interests to keep us out of each other's hair, which is good. He says he enjoys my piano playing. It's funny how I don't scream in frustration and pound the keyboard when he's around. He's always had a calming affect on me. Meanwhile, he hides in his home office to watch action movies on the big-screen computer. Frankly, we could buzz around the house without crossing paths for days. Perhaps.

No doubt, we won't be as separate as in the past. Together, we can enjoy club activities, visits to local attractions, and checking out festivals. We will probably find plenty to do to fill all those empty work shift hours. How long will it take, though, before I tell him, "I married you forever, not for lunch! Go play mus!"

Our health is still pretty good, though exercise isn't part of our routine. One day, I explored the options at the community center. Two offerings put me between an amped-up chair aerobics session and a group of grave-bound oldsters pulling strings around their bodies. Had I actually reached that level of decrepitude? I retreated home to my knitting needles and DVD collection.

It's been a few years since I hiked around our hillside acre, tending to chickens and vegetable gardens. With the chickens long gone and my focus on flowerbeds closer to the house, my walking regimen has become non-existence. To my peril and dismay. The desert trails used to call me, but after encountering weird characters out there, even with my Border collie romping around, such hikes are a memory. With Jeff around all the time, though, perhaps we can ootch ourselves for a walk around the park on level ground.

Jeff has been a dedicated couch potato for decades. When we go for day trips. I would get out to walk the dog while he'd hang out in the car. So, I wonder if more dedicated walks will become a habit. Or will he be more content to work around Rancho Pequeño while I attend to household chores as our exercise program? Is that enough for people our age … somewhere between chair aerobics and strings?

Since we no longer have animals, we can travel unfettered. We'll have more time for overnighters without worrying about critters or Monday morning alarms. Alas, we get tired more quickly during our rides. Now that's a concern. Those day jaunts to Bishop for pastry at Schat's now require a motel. It scares me to think we've deteriorated that much. Are we closer to in-home care than we're willing to admit? Should I get us on the waiting list for that new assisted-living place in town?

You know something? We'll work it out somehow. During our week of playing Retirement, we chased the grandchildren. I was impressed I could still lift my grandson over my head. He's forty pounds heavier than in the past. Whew! Playing Grandparent could fill up a lot of time if we don't make pests of ourselves.

So we're now looking forward to venturing into the community a bit more; schmoozing with local farmers at the markets; and climbing into the Jeep to hunt for wild horses. It will be so much better with the free, fluid time allotment retirement will give us.

And the best part of it is, we can turn off that damned alarm forever!

All photos where not specified were taken by Sue Cauhape

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