Planning for Spontaneity

My husband and I just returned from our first post-retirement road trip. Even though we mostly stuck to our planned schedule, it was very freeing to know that, because neither of us have a job to dictate our return date, we could stay away as long as we wanted… or at least until the money ran out.

We had a terrific several weeks in northern California; in Monterey at a car club “convention,” visiting my brother and sister-in-law in the Bay Area, and spending time in Santa Cruz with my husband’s family. In fact, we had such a good time we started to plan our next trip as we drove home. Yep, I think we could get used to this!

Monterey coastline
Monterey coastline
Tasting champagne in Napa
Tasting champagne in Napa

In addition to planning our next escape, we’ve been talking about what we can do to make it easier for us to just pack and go. We want to put a few things in place now so that, when the spontaneity spark hits us or a can’t-miss-it opportunity arises, we can take off at a moment’s notice.

We’ve already made the conscious decision not to have pets because of travel. Although I miss having a dog or a cat, the freedom has been a positive tradeoff.

Our landscaping is – by design – fairly low maintenance, so we don’t need to arrange for upkeep while we were gone as long as our plants don’t have to go more than a couple of weeks without water.

Seasoned travelers have told us that it’s best not to put a vacation stop on mail and newspaper delivery because it is an alert that we will be out of town. Because of this, we have a neighbor pick up our mail and paper while we are gone. Since we provide the same service to her when she’s on vacation, it doesn’t seem like an imposition. To make things simpler and to avoid overlapping vacations, we are considering cancelling the paper completely. Our mailbox is attached to the garage wall so we want to create an opening that will allow the mail to drop directly from the box into a container inside the garage.

Ideally, we’d like to have someone stay at our house for absences lasting longer than a week or so. Not much would be required beyond simple watering and generally keeping an eye on things, but having a presence in the home would make us more comfortable while away. Although we live in a pretty safe neighborhood, this is a big city and we’d be naive to think nothing could happen.

When I was younger, single, and living in a condo with my cat, I had plenty of friends who were happy to stay in my home while I was out of town. They either lived with their parents or with roommates and welcomed the opportunity to have their own space for awhile. They enjoyed the quiet and privacy and I received cat feeding, plant watering, and house watching services. Win-win.

Fast forward a few decades and circumstances have changed. Married or not, our friends tend to be happy with their living situations so are not available to house-sit.

House swapping is something we might explore in the future, especially for longer stays, but for now—and for shorter stays—we are looking for that perfect match; someone who is pet-free, trustworthy, responsible, and who would welcome the opportunity “get way” for awhile in our home.

Hopefully we can find someone before we take off again.

The Last of the “Last Ofs”

With just over a month left before I retire, I find myself mentally checking off the last (insert here) that I will experience before I leave. On Friday, I gave my last work-related presentation before a large audience. Tomorrow, I will go on the last of many, many business trips I’ve taken over the years. Pretty soon, I’ll submit my last expense report, then I’ll make the last drive to and from work, and, soon after that, I’ll receive my last regular paycheck.

Cocoon1

I look forward to checking off some of these “last ofs,” but others are more bittersweet. Happiness mixed with sadness, excitement mixed with unease. I’ve changed jobs many times over my working life, but I was always transitioning from one cocoon to the next. I left behind the comfort of a familiar social circle and known responsibilities, but I knew that soon I would bond with my new co-workers and ease into a new routine.

Synonyms for “routine” are “monotonous,” “dull,” “tedious,” and “mundane,” but routines can also be positive and comforting. I begin each day with a cup of French-pressed coffee and end it by reading a bit before turning out the lights and going to sleep. Some routines won’t change when I’m retired, but others that lend a comfortable consistency to my work week will be gone. There will be a last team meeting, the last seminar I host, and my final walk through the door when the workday is done.

Of course, there will be many “last ofs” that I won’t know are the last until they are gone: the last shared laugh with a colleague about some work-related absurdity, the final time a co-worker offers to help me with a task, the last of many, many kindnesses I’ve been shown over the years by the people I work with. It’s the people that I will miss the most (although. I admit, the paycheck is a close second).

On May 17, I will begin a series of “first ofs” that being retired allows me to experience: the first of my weekends that won’t have a bunch of errands crammed in over two days, the first Monday morning that won’t require an alarm to get me up, the first Wednesday that’s not a “hump day” because there is no longer a hump to get over. Soon, my husband and I will take our first road trip that has a start date, but no set end date because we don’t have to meet anyone else’s schedule.

Many of the “last ofs” will be hard and I’m sure tears will be shed, but I am looking forward to the “first ofs,” and hope to add as many of them to my new life as possible.

Practice Retirement

Several months ago – back when I thought I’d be retired by now – I happily volunteered to go on a two-week road trip with a dear friend. She used to live in San Diego before moving to Pennsylvania, and now drives west each winter to spend several months seeing friends and avoiding the snow. I thought it would be great fun to join her on her journey back home.

Just like this, except in the snow and without Brad Pit to entertain us.
Just like this, except in the snow and without Brad Pitt to entertain us… and no cliffs.

I am fortunate that I was still able to arrange a two-week block of time off work, and lucky that I have a husband who understands the importance of the trip and is OK with me being away for that amount of time.

We planned this trip before the dreaded polar vortexes (vortices?) hit, so I’m now questioning the wisdom of leaving sunny southern California and heading to the east coast. To avoid as much cold weather as possible, we’ll take a mostly southern route before heading north once we reach Alabama. Since I’ve never lived in the snow, I don’t have the proper clothes, nor do I have a clue how to drive in the stuff. I really hope that the worst will be over by the time we head out in a few weeks.

Remind me again why I'm leaving the orange and yellow part in the lower left to drive to the dark blue and purple parts in the upper right?
Remind me again why I’m leaving the orange and yellow part in the lower left to drive to the dark blue and purple parts in the upper right?

I’m also nervous because I’m an introvert by nature and crave a certain amount of alone time. The thought of being with someone other than my husband, in close quarters, all day, for two weeks is somewhat unsettling. Fortunately, my friend and I share similar interests, and our taste in food, music, books-on-tape, etc. is close enough so I’m fairly certain we’ll be fine.

Although a two-week trip across country could be called leisurely, we won’t make many site-seeing stops. We’ve identified a couple of points of interest that will require longer stays, and plan to see a few friends along the way, but mostly our overnights will be in small towns, strategically spaced to break up the drive into reasonable chunks.

This trip is the type of adventure (albeit with my husband) I am looking forward to the most in my retirement. Without any hard deadlines or schedules, I hope he and I can take off when the desire hits us, and stay away as long as we want. I have no idea how often we will actually do that, but just having the option feels very freeing.

This road trip with my friend will give me a chance to practice being retired. Along with as many warm cloths as I can stuff in my suitcase, I will take my journal and my camera, a commitment to be flexible and open experiences outside of my comfort zone, and, most of all, my sense of adventure.