A Week of "Lasts"

Our time in Minnesota is winding down. We've reached the point where many things we do are for the last time, and I have mixed feelings. Last Saturday I had my hair done for the last time by my stylist of 16+ years. Nolan is an absolute dear and knows how to get my hair the perfect color every time. If you've ever had a bad color job, you can appreciate the value of his talent. The right hair color is truly priceless. Over the years, he has also listened to the ups and downs of my life and was one of the first people to read my first book when it came out. (His comment was that my hero was "extremely patient".) I'll miss Nolan, but our time together was limited. He's well into his seventies and finally admitted he's considering retirement. I'll never understand how anyone can do a job requiring you to be on your feet several hours a day for fifty years, but he has always been cheerful and uncomplaining. As a parting gift, he wrote down the formula for my haircolor and gave me earnest instructions to give my new stylist in California. 

It's funny how men are different. OG has been going to the same barber for more than 20 years and hasn't even mentioned our move. He says he'll tell Steve on his next (and last) visit, two days before we leave. OG jokingly claims he doesn't want to give the barber and excuse to give him a bad haircut, but I know it will be hard for him to say goodbye.

Barring any emergencies, we've also seen our beloved dentist for the last time. Dr. Branham is one of the sweetest men I know. He taught our needle-phobic daughter not to fear going to the dentist. He's gentle, highly skilled, and never tries to talk his patients into unnecessary procedures regardless of their profit to him. He's also a passionate collector of vinyl records. OG had a sizeable collection that he decided not to move, so Dr. Branham came over and took all six boxes. We know they're going to a good home.

Saturday was my last meeting with my RWA chapter, Midwest Fiction Writers. I'm continuing as a long-distance member, but I don't know when I'll see any of these remarkable women again--perhaps at a future National convention. For many years we've grown as writers together, cheering each other's successes and commiserating with each setback. I'll miss them, but thanks to modern technology, we're never farther than a click apart.

That really only leaves the office. I sold my car today to a former co-worker, a nice young man who is looking forward to enjoying the bells and whistles of my 10-year-old, shockingly low mileage Infiniti. It was the first time I've seen anyone from work since I left more than two months ago. I wondered how it would feel, and it was fine--no twinges of discomfort at all. I'm meeting three friends from the office for lunch today, and I'm really looking forward to it. I take that as a sign of how much I've healed.

It's time to go. I'm ready.

The Importance of Routine

I have now been officially retired for a week, but I feel almost as busy as when I worked full time. The main difference is that I’m fitting my “new life” activities (i.e. writing and related social media duties), as well as my discovery activities (research on future opportunities), into the hours I used to spend at the office. Previously, I would disappear into my writing study after dinner for a few hours several days a week, but at this point, I’m trying to leave my evenings free to spend with OG.

The first major challenge I’ve faced in my new life is figuring out what to do when, and my first decision was to turn off the alarm clock. I don’t make many resolutions, but in 2013, I resolved never to get up at 5:40 a.m. to attend a marketing meeting again. Ever. I have turned my back on that part of my old life with unrepentant glee.

However, I still want to be productive. In fact, it’s even more important now that I’m working for myself than when I was drawing a paycheck. Retirement has not altered my basic psychological makeup. I want to enjoy what I’m doing, but I need to see evidence of concrete accomplishment. And to do that, I need routine; I need a schedule. The schedule can be flexible, but every day needs a framework.

One of my first fears when I quit my job was that I would no longer know what day of the week it was. A prominently placed calendar would solve that problem, but what really worried me was that the days would blend together and time would lose its structure. That might appeal to some, but not to me.

Certain things happen at certain times on certain days at our house. Since OG has been home alone during the week for several years, he already has a well-established routine. He runs errands and exercises in the morning; Monday is trash day; Thursday and Sunday are laundry days, etc. I made a point not to interfere while I was working, and I don’t plan to start now. We both derive a measure of comfort from the constant rhythm of the week. My challenge is to create a structure for my days that complements OG’s yet allows me to meet my own goals.

Afternoons have always been my most productive writing time (OG likes to nap), so I plan to continue to work on creative projects in the afternoon. The business of the day—errands, housework, correspondence, social media, etc.—will be relegated to the morning. I’m used to exercising after work, so I plan to stick to that schedule and work out before starting dinner.

So far, this plan seems to be working for both of us. We’ll see how it evolves as I take on additional new projects and OG develops new interests. The Second Half is definitely a work in progress.

Free At Last

Free at last! Free at last! Thank the Lord, I’m free at last!

I had planned to make these words from the old spiritual my mantra for 2013. Before I left my job (see the About Me page for complete details), I expected to shout them from the rooftops. The truth of my response to leaving the world of “regular” employment after thirty-seven years is somewhat more complicated.

Mine was not the triumphant retirement I’d planned as recently as six months ago. Instead, it arrived a few years ahead of schedule and brought along a niggling degree of economic, as well as emotional, insecurity. My head knows my husband and I have tucked away a comfortable sum, but my heart still quakes at the thought of January 15^th, the first payday in decades when no check will arrive.

Although I was able to leave on my own terms rather than being laid off or terminated, my departure wasn't the warm experience I’d envisioned. I gave my notice and was requested to leave the following day—not surprising, but not gratifying either after more than sixteen years.  After a brief, pleasant announcement, a few co-workers stopped by to wish me well, and I slipped away unnoticed during the employee holiday party. As I turned out the lights in my office for the last time, carried my remaining belongings to my car, and drove off all I could think was what an anti-climactic end to one of the most important chapters of my life.

But in truth, I didn’t expect more. During my career, I’ve watched enough people come and go to know that in business no one is ever missed for long. And I don’t intend to waste time dwelling in the past; it isn’t worth the energy. I have a new life to plan. And that’s what this blog is about—planning for and making the most of The Second Half.

I’ve devoted much of the past six months to self-discovery, not an altruistic pursuit but critical at this point. When I graduated from college, I didn’t spend five minutes considering what I wanted (or needed) to do with my life. Like so many, I was simply looking for a job. And that first job led to more than three decades in the insurance business. I enjoyed many aspects of my job, but it probably wasn’t the best match for an Art History major. Now I get a do-over.

I’m at the beginning of an exciting journey, one you may be preparing to make as well. Or perhaps you’re father down the road and willing to share your experiences with those of us who follow. I hope that together we’ll find the good humor, inspiration, and determination to construct a satisfying, uplifting Second Half. Thanks for coming along for the ride.