Finding my happy place

Last week, Sammy over at Bemuzin, posted a list of ten things she loves and ten things she hates. She had been tagged by a fellow blogger to participate in the Love-Hate Challenge, then she tagged ten different bloggers to pass the baton to, including me.

Fortunately, she didn’t list “procrastinators” as one of the ten things she hates, because I’m a bit tardy submitting my lists to the blogosphere.

Blueberries definitely take me to my happy place!
Blueberries definitely take me to my happy place!

For my lists, I’m going to change it up a bit (Sammy also didn’t include “rule-breakers” on her hated list, so I think I’m in the clear). First, few things rise to the level of “hate” in my life, so I will modify my list titles a bit. Second, I’m not going to tag a new group. But, give some thought to compiling your own lists, it was a lot of fun!

Ten things that take me to my happy place:

  • Beginning the morning lazing about and cuddling with my husband
  • Sitting on my deck and enjoying the sunshine
  • Taking walks with friends for exercise and conversation
  • Starting a new book and, after just a few pages, realizing that it’s REALLY good
  • Our blueberry bushes bursting with berries
  • All the yummies we make with our blueberry harvest
  • Small get-togethers with friends – good conversation, good food, and good wine
  • Road trips
  • National Public Radio
  • Coaxing a contented purr from a kitty by scratching behind its ears

Ten things that harsh my buzz:

  • Guilt-tipping (I talk all about it here)
  • When people post controversial things on Facebook without checking its authenticity
  • Drivers who endanger themselves and others by texting or talking on their cellphones
  • Mean people
  • Cooked carrots
  • When I forget someone’s name and have to fumble around in my brain to retrieve it
  • Missing Stephen Colbert and, soon, Jon Stewart on Comedy Central
  • Gophers
  • Ever-shrinking seats on airplanes
  • People who don’t pick up their dog’s poop

0 to 5161 in three weeks

Last night, my husband and I arrived back home after being on the road for three weeks.  We took off from Southern California on April 24 with a rough itinerary that included a couple of hard dates but also a lot of flexibility. We had family and calendared events waiting for us in Omaha and later in St. Louis, but, other than that, we were on our own.

A quiet walk among the the red rocks in Capitol Reef National Park
A quiet walk among the the red rocks in Capitol Reef National Park

The 5,161 miles we traveled took us through 14 states and to 11 national parks and monuments, several state parks, and quite a few museums. We had days when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, days full of ice and snow, and just about every weather pattern in between. We experienced the majesty of nature in the red rocks of Utah and Arizona and the audacity of men whose dreams led them to carve the likenesses of four presidents and an Indian chief on the sides of mountains. We saw a giant depression in the earth where a meteorite landed 50,000 years ago and we enjoyed the kitsch of visiting a giant rocking chair and sleeping in a motel room shaped like a teepee along the route made famous in the 1920s and 1930s.

My husband, best friend, and traveling buddy (I’m fortunate to have all three wrapped in one person) indulged my photographic whims by happily stopping whenever I asked him to. Our tastes are similar enough so that we usually easily agreed on attractions to stop for as well as food and lodging choices, but we are flexible enough so that we could change plans to accommodate each other’s interests.

Today is the one-year anniversary of my retirement. Over the past twelve months we’ve taken two driving trips and two trips that have required getting on a plane. Planes allow us to get to far-off destinations, but there is nothing like a road trip to best explore this country and build a greater understanding of ourselves and others.

As I do on every one of our travels, I kept a journal of our day-to-day activities and adventures. I also jot down inspirations, insights, and possible blog topics as they occur to me. I will share some of these over the next several posts.

Cuba: A Nation Rich in History

On the morning of our second day in Cuba, we were treated to an unexpected scene in downtown Havana. In celebration of Jose Marti’s birth date, hundreds of school children paraded down the avenue next to our hotel. Many of them were in costume, some held signs or flags, and all participated in vigorous chants led by their adult supervisors. It was the first of many times on our trip that I wished that my Spanish was better but even so, the pageantry and the sweet, earnest faces of the children was a joy to watch.

School children celebrating Jose Marti's birthday
School children celebrating Jose Marti’s birthday
Statue of Jose Marti in Havana's main square
Statue of Jose Marti in Havana’s main square

Jose Marti is a Cuban national hero for his role in the struggle for independence from Spain in the 19th century. His writings, including poems and essays, promoted liberty and political freedom. His dedication to Cuban independence – including sovereignty from the United States — and his fight against slavery and racial discrimination is honored throughout Cuba with statues and celebrations like we were fortunate to witness.

After watching the parade, we took off on foot to discover other sights of Havana, including the capitol dome (currently undergoing renovations), magnificent old buildings in various stages of decay, and the entrance arch to a long-gone Chinatown.

The rest of the day included a tour of the Necropolis de Colon, one of the largest cemeteries in the world, a private talk given by Roberto Salas’ about his stint as Fidel Castro’s private photographer in the 1960s, and a tour of ceramic artist Fuster’s amazing compound in which he has created a spectacular and joyful “Homenate a Gaudi” (“Homage to Gaudi”).

Havana is a photographer's dream
Havana is a photographer’s dream

Colorful buildings in Havana

Entrance to Chinatown
Entrance to Chinatown

 

The capitol building under repair
The capitol building under repair
Necropolis de Colon cemetary
Necropolis de Colon cemetery
It is easy to see how the artist Fuster was inspired by Antoni Gaudi
It is easy to see how the artist Fuster was inspired by Antoni Gaudi
No day in Cuba is complete without a cool dude and an even cooler car
No day in Cuba is complete without a cool dude and an even cooler car

 

A Backward Glance at 2014, Part 3

Rather than making New Year’s resolutions that I’d probably break before the end of January, I decided to look back on 2014, the first year of my retirement, to see how my vision corresponded with my reality. In Part 1 and Part 2, I explored six specific areas of focus. Here in Part 3, I look at three more.

Learn new things – C

When I envisioned my retirement years before I actually made the step, I knew they would include ongoing education. There are so many subjects I want to learn about and, fortunately in my city, there are many avenues I can take to pursue this knowledge.

Osher is an amazing resource for lifelong education
Osher is an amazing resource for lifelong education

I’ve already taken classes on Photoshop and social media (both free through the Continuing Education system) and there are so many other subjects I am interested in. We are fortunate to have several colleges in the area that offer courses through the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute that I plan to take advantage of. If you haven’t heard about Osher, I encourage you to Google them and see if they offer classes where you live.

I’m giving myself a C because I sort of took the spring and summer off right after I left work. I expect to refocus in the new year and feed my brain on a regular basis.

Be creative – B-

I’ve always been a fairly creative person; in fact I was a graphic design major in college. For those of you who haven’t reached 50 yet, it’s probably difficult to picture a time when design was done without a computer, but that was my world. Soon after I graduated, I decided not to make a career out of art and get into something more stable and lucrative.

I’ve dabble in artistic pursuits on and off over the years, but I looked forward to the free time I’d have in retirement to reawaken my creative side. I’ve made some progress, mostly in photography, but I want to do much more.

Care for and nurture my marriage – B+

This is the biggie. I wasn’t sure how being together almost 24-hours-a-day would affect my relationship with my husband. As solid as our marriage is, I realized that we needed to be mindful of this huge change in our lives. Would each of us get enough “me time”? Would we still find joy in being together? Would we drive each other crazy?

Looking back on the past year, I think we’ve done a great job adjusting to our new reality. It takes a lot of work, flexibility, and good communication, but isn’t that true of any relationship? I consider my husband my best friend and I know we are each other’s biggest fan. We can always improve (hence the B+, not an A), but there is no one else I’d rather find joy with or drive crazy.

 

So, tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve and we plan to spend a wonderful evening with good friends. We may even stay up until midnight (or, not). 2014 turned out to be a very good year and I look forward to filling 2015 with great adventures, personal growth, fulfilling connections with others, healthy living, and much laughter and joy. I wish the same for you.

The Klondike Big Inch Land Company: A Tale of Puffed Rice and Deflated Dreams

My two brothers and I are very lucky to have been raised by loving, involved parents who made sure we were well equipped to become successful adults. They made sure we studied hard in school, ate right, and we were encouraged to get plenty of exercise by playing outdoors with our friends.

But, they realized that all this may not be enough. Just having a good education, eating a healthy diet, and rocking at Kick-the-Can and Hide-and-Seek would only get us so far in the world. We needed something else, something that could give us the financial wherewithal to fund our dreams. Some parents might have purchased savings bonds for their children; others might have invested in Disney stock.

Our parents bought us land.

Well, they didn’t exactly buy us land. What they bought were boxes of Quaker Oats brand Puffed Rice. This wasn’t just any old cereal, mind you: nestled inside each box was a Deed of Land granted by the Klondike Big Inch Land Co. Inc.; specifically a deed for one square inch of land in the Yukon Territory.

Yep, I became a land baron before I was out of diapers.

Inch FrontInch Back

 

 

 

 

 

 

When I was old enough to truly appreciate the significance of my Deed of Land – not only for its tremendous future dollar value, but also for its ability to make my best friend jealous – I put the document in a protective plastic sleeve and placed it among my other valuable possessions. I occasionally brought it out when I wanted to dream of my future wealth or I needed to up my cred among my friends, but, for the most part, it remained tucked safely away until the day I would lay claim to my land and the prosperity it represented.

Given the significance of the document, I’m not sure how it managed to lay forgotten for many years until it was discovered when I was going through a box of childhood stuff.  There, along with my grade school class photos, Troop 202 Girl Scout sash, and Presidential Physical Fitness Award patch, was my Deed of Land.

Holding the slightly yellowed document in my hands, the dreams began again.

Maybe, over the years, someone discovered oil under my inch. Or, miners had unearthed a lucrative vein of gold running through it. Or, perhaps a developer had mistakenly built a shopping mall on my land and now I could claim a percentage of the total value (including back interest, of course). If land size inflated in the same way currency does, that square inch would now equal a whopping 8.7 square inches. Certainly that Deed of Land extracted from a cereal box many years ago would be worth a sizable sum today. Oh yeah: my ship had just come in!

Before contacting an attorney or hiring a wealth manager, I decided to do a quick Google search to get some idea of the volume of money that would soon be flowing my way. I also wasn’t quite sure where the Yukon Territory was or the location of the closest airport since I knew I’d have to venture up to the Great North to assert ownership of the square inch that was rightfully mine.

Big Inch

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Only it wasn’t… mine, I mean.

It was all a gimmick. What has been called one of the most successful ad campaigns in advertising history was a gimmick designed to encourage kids to pester their parents into purchasing Quaker Oats brand Puffed Rice cereal.

Back in the early 50’s, a brilliant advertising executive, Bruce Baker, developed a promotion tied to a popular Quaker Oats-sponsored radio show about Sergeant Preston of the Yukon and his trusty dog, King. Mr. Baker convinced Quaker Oats to purchase 19.11 acres on the west bank of the Yukon River for $1,000. The company divided the land into 119,870,000 square inch parcels and printed over 21 million Deeds of Land. Each one was individually stamped with a unique lot number – mine was L-595729 – and placed in boxes of cereal.

The promotion’s success went way beyond the company’s wildest dreams.  Pretty soon boxes of the bland, unexciting cereal were flying off the shelves.

Unfortunately for the millions of us now-graying kids who once dreamed of one day laying claim to our square inch of rugged paradise, the Quaker Oats never formally registered the land. The company determined that it would be a logistical nightmare to register the deeds to millions of children. Even if it could be done, it would have cost the company a fortune.

Not only do we not own our square inches now, apparently we never owned them.

To add even more insult to injury, the Klondike Big Inch Land Co., Inc. was dissolved in the 60’s and the Canadian government repossessed all the land for nonpayment of $37.20 in property taxes.

Years ago, a Quaker Oats spokesperson explained that “the deeds were not meant to have any intrinsic value, but rather to give the consumer the romantic appeal of being the owner of a square inch of land in the Yukon.”

Yeah, tell that to my lawyer.

Just Another Day in Paradise

I was bitten by the tiki bug at a young age.
I was bitten by the tiki bug at a young age.

I have lived in the beach culture all my life. My current home is not far from where I grew up and, even when I went away to college, I have never lived more than a few miles from the ocean. Although I haven’t sunbathed in many years, I’m sure I owe at least a few of my wrinkles—and certainly the scar on my back where they removed a cancerous spot—to the many hours I spent baking in the sun. Even now, when getting a suntan is no longer a major goal in my life—or something I desire to have at all—I still love the sand, the salt water, and – most of all – the relaxed, happy vibe of warm summer breezes and swaying palm trees.

In this spirit, my husband and I spent last Saturday afternoon enjoying all things tiki at Tiki Oasis 2014. There are many tiki-themed events in the US, but the Tiki Oasis is one of the “Big Three.” The other two are the Ohana on the Lake in Lake George, New York, and the Hukilau in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. I have only attended the one in San Diego, but I imagine the others are similar. 

Most of the attendees were there for the full 3-day immersion into the tiki culture which includes workshops, music, demonstrations, cocktail parties, and tours of local tiki architecture. We, on the other hand, just went for the one afternoon and enjoyed the free stuff — a great vintage car display, interesting vendor booths, an art show, and, of course, people watching.

Tiki Van 1

Who wouldn't be happy driving this van?
Who wouldn’t be happy driving this van?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For many, these events are a great excuse to put on a Hawaiian shirt and sip rum-based drinks from a coconut, but others have embraced the tiki culture completely. I find these hard core “Tikiphiles” (as they refer to themselves) both fascinating and charming. The women wore their hair in elaborate pin curls, 40’s-style make-up, and dressed in vintage Hawaiian frocks (and I’m not talking muumuus; these dresses are gorgeous and form-fitting). The men donned Hawaiian shirts, pork pie hats, and typically sported some type of facial hair. Most of the men and the women had tattoos – lots of them.

Tiki events are part kitsch, part retro, part dress-up, and all fun. Just like seeing plastic pink flamingos on someone’s front lawn, the tiki culture makes me smile. The colors are vivid, the music upbeat, and the imagery is positive. Best of all, those who embrace it don’t take themselves too seriously. They are enjoying life and harkening back to a less complicated time (whether or not it was really less complicated is immaterial, that’s how they choose to reflect it).

Part kitsch, part retro, part dress-up, all fun... in sensible shoes.
Part kitsch, part retro, part dress-up, all fun… in sensible shoes.

I imagine that a majority of the attendees have regular jobs, and the commitments and stress that go along with them. Attending tiki events allows them to step back momentarily, dress up in colorful clothes, and enjoy the company of others who love the culture as much as they do. On Monday morning, I’m sure it was back to reality for most.

After several hours of wondering around, chatting with a few attendees, and having lunch poolside, it was time to rejoin the real world. As we headed back to our car for the short drive home, we couldn’t help but be in a good mood. With all the turmoil going on in the world, it was kind of nice to “get away” for awhile and enjoy a little island fantasy.

On our way to the parking lot, we passed a car with a window sticker which read simply “Live Aloha.” Those words made me reflect on how I’m so grateful that my husband and I have been able to retire from the work-world and its related time-commitments and stress. Although we don’t have pink flamingos in our front yard or a carved tiki on the patio, we are focused on smiling often, staying healthy, and trying to live aloha every day.

Live Aloha4

Lucy, you got some splainin’ to do!

Several years ago, I cut out and thumbtacked to the bulletin board in my office a section of an article about relationships. The article must have contained a list of “dos” and “don’ts” because this one was labeled “No. 16.” I have no memory of numbers 1 through 15, nor any that proceeded Number 16, but this one stopped me mid-read, and prompted me to get up and grab my scissors.

No. 16 Don’t Be the Ricky

On the 1950’s sit-com I Love Lucy, Ricky and Lucy Ricardo had very different ways of approaching life. Lucy was always doing crazy stuff and getting into trouble. Ricky was always there to bail her out of whatever disaster she got herself into. The premise of Number 16 was that people tend to either be Rickys or Lucys.

Ricky and Lucy4

Rickys are practical, responsible, and live life relatively conservatively. In a relationship, they are the caretakers; the ones who make sure the bills get paid, the finances are in good shape, and plans are made and followed.

Lucys, on the other hand, are crazy, fun-loving, and charmingly irresponsible. They have a “live for today” attitude. They are the ones who are out having fun and not paying too much attention to the consequences.

Number 16 warned about being a Ricky (who is stuck being responsible) while your partner is being a Lucy (forever starry-eyed, wacky, and impractical). One person is Homer, and the other Marge. One is Hans Solo, the other Princess Leia. The message was that one was having way more fun than the other.

I have a dominant Ricky gene. My husband also is a Ricky. We know how to have fun, we enjoy being silly, we even can be pretty creative (after all, Ricky Ricardo was an accomplished singer and bandleader) but, for the most part, we have a vision of what we want to accomplish and we take the steps necessary to get there. Most likely, being Rickys throughout our working lives has helped us get where we are today: being able to retire relatively young.

That’s not to say that Lucys are all screw-ups who have great fun but are ultimately destined to be financially unsound or be dependent on Rickys to save them. Some people I love and admire are Lucys. I imagine that many brilliant multi-gazillionaires are shoot-for-the-stars Lucys. Who knows, when I decided to cut out and keep that article, if I had been more of a Lucy I may have had the crazy idea to create some sort of an online bulletin board that people could, I don’t know… maybe “pin” interesting items to. And, throwing caution to the wind, I may have sold everything and taken out ill-advised loans to fund that insanity.

My husband and I got where we are today by saving more than spending, economizing more than splurging. That’s not to say we haven’t had great adventures or wonderful experiences, but we have said “no” to opportunities more than we would have liked, and probably more than we needed to.

Ricky and Lucy5

Suddenly becoming total Lucys is probably not possible or desirable. Rickyness is in our DNA, and that’s not a bad thing; it will most likely keep us out of trouble as we get older. But I think we have reached a point in our lives when we should start channeling our inner Lucys regularly. We need to say “yes” more often, seek out some crazy adventures, and do a few marvelously impractical things that may leave the Rickys out there scratching their heads.