The Accidental Retiree

I've been thinking and reading a lot about retirement lately.  Being the compulsive planner that I am, it's surprising that I didn't do this before I left the workplace but at the time I believed it was temporary.

I left accounting to pursue a degree in psychology but my timing was off.  In the midst of various family emergencies and pursuing a new relationship, continuing education wasn't a priority.  I decided the degree could wait.  Life didn't slow down so the following year I enrolled in a college program - "psychology light" - which I enjoyed but didn't feel was adequate preparation for a career.

So, I told myself I was taking a "sabbatical" and bought a farm and moved to the country and woke up one day and admitted to myself I had "retired".

It took me rather longer to start telling others, when they asked, that I was "retired".  Most people respond with "Lucky you!  Are you enjoying it?" although a few ask "Are you bored?" and the answer to both questions is "yes".

The good part is as I expected.  It's lovely to be able to devote as much time and attention as I want to my hobbies and pastimes.  I can stay up until 3 a.m. to finish a mystery novel without worrying about getting up with my alarm the next morning.  I can choose to spend the day sewing or gardening or window shopping or napping - whatever I like.  I don't need to deal with mean people.  (Although the great majority of my co-workers and clients throughout the years were, in fact, very nice people and I miss them.)

Boredom, I've concluded, is in the eye of the beholder.  I have no lack of activities to fill my time (see hobbies and pastimes above).  Some days are a bit tedious but after two and half decades of accounting, I'm not a stranger to tedium.

The downside of retirement, for me, is the absence of a sense of purpose, specifically a sense of purpose reinforced by outside acknowledgment.

Like many (probably most) accountants, while I was working I harbored the fantasy that beneath my staid and sober exterior lurked a free spirit, a bohemian, a wild woman waiting to surface.  I told myself that I was not defined by my job.  When the time was right, I would explore my creative side - become a potter or a poet or a travel writer.

I may have been mistaken.  I'm having a grand old time exploring my creative side but I can't escape the feeling that this is just an interlude - I miss putting on my grown-up clothes, hopping on the subway and being at my desk before 8 every morning.  I miss staff meetings and month-end and the adrenaline rush of meeting the tax deadline.  And as much as I wish I were the type of person who gets more satisfaction from completing a quilt or growing a perfect eggplant as from receiving a glowing performance review - I'm not.

There are lots of options - go back to school, go back to work, volunteer, take up golf or give it awhile longer in the hopes that the wild woman is just taking her time to wake up.  In the meantime, I feel I'm sitting in the station - sipping a latte and debating which train to take.

What Not to Wear: Farm Edition

Lately I can't get enough of Stacy and Clinton and their show What Not to Wear.  In past tv seasons, I flipped merrily past Stacy's exhortations to try an "empeer" waist (why can't Americans manage to pronounce French words correctly?  Is it from spending too much time in their "foy-rrrs"?) and shook my head as she and Clinton wrapped yet another belt around a blazer - a look I thought had gone out in 1983.  That was before I moved out of the city and discovered that a large portion of the population think it's a good idea to wear their pajamas to the grocery store and resurrect 1970s concert t-shirts for formal occasions.

Welcome to rural fashion.

If it were simply a matter of observing others' faux pas (or would Stacy say "fox paws"?) I might still resist the show - seeing dozens of people lined up on the causeway each day with their bait and tackle hasn't convinced me to start watching the fishing channel.  But a glance at the mirror demonstrates that my own fashion sense has taken a turn for the icky since moving to the farm.  To quote Dilbert, casual day has gone too far.

Apart from some youthful experimentation with skirt suits and padded shoulders, I've spent most of my adult life in clothes from the Gap.  Jeans, khakis, button down shirts and the occasional colorful sweater or cute little denim skirt pretty much covered all occasions.  When I went back to work in a corporate environment, I took a step up to Banana Republic for appropriate "business casual".  It was great.  I didn't need to think about fashion trends or this season's colors - a bi-annual trip to the mall - once in spring and again in the fall - and I could rest assured that I was appropriately dressed if not exactly a fashionista.

Moving to the farm and turning 50 have required some serious wardrobe editing.  Gone are the tailored wool trousers, the colorful short skirts, the graceful ballet flats - impractical on muddy driveways, unflattering to middle-aged legs, unsupportive of fallen arches.  What remains in my closet might best be described as artisan hippie meets senior citizen - yoga hoodies, hand knit socks, Birkenstock sandals and far too many pair of capri pants.  Stacy says no one over the age of 5 should wear capris and, in this instance, I'm with Stacy.

I'm uncertain how to exchange urban preppy for farm chic.  I'm too old for Daisy Dukes, not ready to give in to pajama jeans (looks like denim... feels like pj's) www.pajamajeans.com

Stacy and Clinton's assistance is available only to U.S. residents so I'm going to pitch a spin-off to CBC.  We'll get fashion ikons Shania Twain and Burton Cummings to co-host and call it "Tragically Hip - What Not to Wear Canada".

Master Bedroom - Midway

As any HGTV follower will attest, the highlight of each program is the grand reveal when the dated, dowdy, dilapidated (insert appropriate derogatory "d" word here) former space is transformed into the designer's vision of style and freshness with appropriate before and after photos.  In TV land, a room can be transformed in a day or two.  Since we're on rural time, it's taking us a year or two but I've decided to share our progress so far.

Before

We painted out the almond trim - seemingly miles of it - with Benjamin Moore's "Cloud White" and the walls are now "Calm".

Working with "Calm" drove home the adage that one should always try a sample wall before committing.  I'd used "Calm" in combination with "Cloud White" in my daughter's room in our Toronto home.  In a smaller room with less natural light, it was a lovely warm grey - as serene and soothing as the name suggests.  In the large bright master, the color is barely discernible from the trim and I think the room still looks somewhat unfinished.  Artwork and a fabric headboard will hopefully bring some interest to the space.

Midway

Flea market bedside tables, a rag rug and Sam the camel add character (we think).

Entrance to ensuite.

For some reason when the house was converted to central heating, they neglected to put a vent in this bedroom.  We've installed a small electric fireplace, painted it out to match the trim and extended the mantel shelf to hold our television components.

Still to come...

1. A new overhead fan
2. Bedside lighting
3. Artwork and headboard
4. A new camera - or perhaps a photo tutorial - so that I can better share the results.

80s window treatments have been replaced with wood blinds

Electric fireplace

Sam the camel.

Dog Days of Summer

I don't know if time moves more slowly here in the country, I'm pretty sure that people do.

When we first moved to the farm, we drew up a plan - our first winter we would tackle the house interior, the first summer we'd get the barn removed and new fences and outbuildings erected, the second winter we'd start a major bathroom reno and so on and so on...  We looked forward to setting our own pace, free of urban stress and arbitrary deadlines.  Our only constraints would be the weather and our own energy.

The weather has been predictably unpredictable, affecting not only our outdoor exertions but our indoor priorities.  Insulation, a new hot water tank, reconfiguring the central heating ducts, putting up a new garage when a windstorm took out our canvas quonset...

As for energy, I've long considered myself a reasonably active person.  When my routine was dictated by my kids' school calendar and the April 30 tax deadline, I had no difficulty setting priorities, meeting commitments and generally getting things done.  Out at the farm, I look to the seasons to dictate where to direct my energy.  With the warmer, longer days, I head outside early to plant and prune.  I remind myself to pause frequently - to enjoy the sunset and the moonrise, to notice the birds, smell the flowers and, literally, watch the grass grow.  All very zen.  Except as I pause and look and listen, I invariably add another couple of items to our project list.  By noon I'm hot and muddy, befuddled by the sun overhead and the seemingly endless chores.  On good days, I retire to the porch with a glass of ice water.  On bad days I fantasize about the central A/C at my old office.

As we start our second summer at the farm and our "to do" list stretches ever longer, I find it important to acknowledge and celebrate our much shorter "completed" list.


The barn is down

 the garage is up

a new vegetable garden is in

 and we've harvested our first radishes.

By far, the most exciting addition to our farm is Wilson, the 8 week old Australian Shepherd we brought home yesterday.

While it may be too soon to be certain, Wilson's schedule appears to support my own.  Up early because there's so much to do before retiring to the porch to escape the afternoon heat.

Your Clutter is My Collection

One of Gretchen Rubin's www.happiness-project.com first resolutions in her year long happiness project was to "toss, restore, organize".  I smiled when I read that and awarded myself a large mental check mark.   A born organizer with a taste for minimalist decor, I'm surprised Ikea hasn't approached me to be in their ads - seriously, my closets are that tidy.  In fact, a few years ago I made a resolution to call a halt to decluttering. I spent so much time sorting my fabrics and yarn - by weight/color/ theme - that I never got around to actually making anything.

Then I happened to glance at my basement shelves this morning and realized my title as the self-appointed "Queen of Clean" is in jeopardy.

It appears moving to new quarters, combining households and inheriting my dad's memorabilia have resulted in my space resembling the "before" in the home makeover articles which is a new experience for me.

As we unpacked our possessions from our respective houses last fall, the basement became the repository for anything that didn't have an obvious home elsewhere - duplicate kitchenwares, outgrown sports equipment, boxes marked "Miscellaneous".  Contemplating the shelves, I've come up against my first "Secret of Adulthood".  (If you're familiar with Gretchen's Happiness Project, you'll know of what I speak.  If not, check out http://www.happiness-project.com/happiness_project/secrets-of-adulthood.html).

My first Secret of Adulthood is this:

Living with other adults is difficult.

And living with other adults' stuff is a perfect example.  Left to my own devices, I could have the shelves cleared in an afternoon.  A few empty boxes labelled "Donate" and "Toss" followed by a trip to Goodwill and the dump and the "after" pics would be posted by Monday.

But let it be said here "One man's treasures are sure to be some woman's trash" (10 years of back issues of Sports Illustrated anyone?) and vice versa - my "collection" of florist shop vases might be reasonably viewed as "clutter" to the casual observer.  Then there are the boxes I brought from my dad's.  I have no need for a collection of wooden ducks and going through the scrapbooks he meticulously compiled still makes me cry.  But they were important to him and, therefor, of value to me.

I refuse to be discouraged.  I'm quite certain I'm up to the challenge.  I'm just saying it could take awhile...

Construction and Deconstruction

 This month I'm living on a construction site.

It's hardly the idyllic summer I'd envisioned - there are backhoes, mountains of old tires and a gaping hole where I'd pictured chickens and alpaca and an herb garden.


There's an enormous pit behind the kitchen where Peter and his crew are laying the foundation for a garage.  It's something of an archeological dig - Peter has uncovered a collection of glass Coke bottles and half a car.

The barn is still upright.  Pat and Charles have spent hours removing and separating the contents - motors, metal, hazardous waste (fortunately not too much of that) and everything else.

The barn removal company we contacted in the spring have failed to show up so, with the insurance company hot on my heels, I'm busy contacting anyone and everyone I can think of to get the structure down by the end of the month.

A Happiness Project

I've been reading Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project and following her blog at www.happiness-project.com.  It possibly reveals a lot about my character that what attracted me in the title was the word "project" more than the word "happiness".  I love a project.  I'm also largely in favor of happiness but I don't think I'd have handed over my $6.75 plus HST to purchase it.  On the other hand, a project for less than $10 is a bargain not to be missed.

My love of projects dates back to elementary school where "projects" invariably involved old magazines, construction paper and glue.  I wasn't very fond of Art as a subject but creating art for a social studies project was great fun.  Years later in my working life, I was always the first in the office to volunteer for special projects.  Accounting projects aren't much different from regular accounting - both involve numbers and cross-checking and hours at the photocopier.  But while regular files were tedious, project files were exciting.  I think my last boss picked up on my bias (or perhaps he shared my enthusiasm for projects).  He would show up at my desk every week or so and announce "I have a project for you".  These were frequently nasty files that involved preparing long overdue tax returns and/or correcting other firms' errors.  The supporting receipts were most often nearly illegible, coffee stained and crumb encrusted.  The clients were high maintenance - either exceptionally demanding or blithely unconcerned about notices from CRA or simply outright odd.  If the files had been placed in the usual "pending work" bin, I would have given them a wide berth but being selected for a "special project" I was all over it.

Since I've retired, projects are what get me out of bed in the morning.  Reading Gretchen's book, I've recognized that the farm could be viewed as my happiness project - undertaking a venture to improve the quality of life without expectation of monetary profit.  I have a myriad of other smaller projects that boost my sense of well being; crafts, of course, but also the challenges my friend Jan and I set for one another on a regular basis - make a list of things you like to do and do one, read a book outside of your preferred genre, go a day without complaining about the kids, make a business plan for a wool shop, try a new salad recipe and, my favourite of Jan's suggestions, do one useful thing each day.  Jan and I don't think of these as "happiness" projects - we call it "surviving" - but I suppose that is what they are.

I'm ambivalent about making "happiness" a project (although I'm itching to complete Gretchen's Resolutions Chart) but what I've learned this week is that projects make me happy.