What do you do each day?

Retirement is a joy for me, but a puzzle, mystery, annoyance and worse to many workers I encounter in my retirement life. I have been asked several questions over and over. What do you do each day? Are you bored? Do you have a routine yet? Do you have travel plans? And there are well meaning (I think) suggestions: You could get a "little job." You could do volunteer work. You could learn to cook. Nasty.
I have decided to confront these questions and suggestions head on. I have written a "retirement mission statement" I wrote it in word, saved it and printed it out. I carry it in my handbag. When these questions and suggestions come up, I whip out my mission statement and start reading. I usually am met with an amused protest and am not allowed to finish. The Mission Statement is a "living" work; I update and revise it as I move on in my retirement. Here it is as of today:

I like to learn, listen, laugh, watch, share, include, inspire, evolve, help, think, dream, remember, mentor, advise, advertise and show off
and I like
my Blog- LiamLicks, my dog, Liam, all pets, eating out, drinking wine, working out, Starbucks, lattes, taking photos, arranging photos, sharing and creating photo albums, Blackberry, Facebook, Oprah, CNN, Anderson Cooper, writing course at NCC, new friends, old friends, Crabtree's, public speaking, texting, Library, Lavender Nails, Ebay, gardening, Susan J Komen for breast cancer, Pet Rescue, Reading, doing mitzvahs, helping someone each day in some way, politics, organizing events, running parties, arranging gettogethers, Survivor, Lost, Damages, theater, Restaurant weeks, blogging, gardening, movies, newspapers, magazines, Rhinebeck, NEPSC retiree website, SNT '64 website, reunions, family gatherings and Bruce Springsteen

staying up late, sleeping in, getting up early only when I want to

Doing whatever I want, whenever I want, with whomever I want

and in my writing, using semi colons, sentence fragments, passive voice, commas, caps, mixing tenses and splitting infinitives in whatever way I want, without fear of editorial reprisal

Sleep whenever, early or late, with friends or alone



Play all day


Drink wine


Drink lattes


Read


Watch late night TV


Enjoy new friends, Syd and Kendl



and do not forget old friends like Stormy


live every moment and love every minute
I do understand the need to know what a retiree does. I almost asked the question of a fellow retiree the other day; I caught myself in time. Had I not, I would have lent him my Mission Statement to be read back to me.

Woof, Woof

Roots

In my blog a few weeks ago, I recorded this exchange: Last-born elderly sister says, "Did you see Heidi Klum's roots?" "Yes, of course, I did" I reply, but add that "the latest is that it is “in" to have roots"- .roots on TV-roots are acceptable and even cultivated, see examples following:

She replies, "Then you would not be "IN “my newly highlighted head has yet to sprouts roots.. She is correct, for today, for this week, for next week, I am not "with it", I have no roots. I say," I will be "IN “in two weeks".

Carol's root journey

roots week one- none week two, some darkness and fourth week-very "in" look

Well , I progressed to "in" just as I predicted and according to plan. As the few weeks in between highlighting appointments went along, I documented the changes in my hair-see above , most notably around what is termed "the part" where the new growth is most easily seen. I sometimes long for that color that I had as a child and for many years after. Once you live as a blond it is hard to give up. Although I did try red for a few months in 2005. I felt red was good-but it is a fleeting color-quick to dull and become cordovan. No one else liked it. I was not insulted when a coworker asked "Did you mean to do that?" One of my menopausal forays into change! A friend has prepared some photos of "root disguises" one which I want to share Now that is a real redhead!

Holidays, such as St. Paddy's Day, offer opportunities to cover new growth with feathers

An article in the NYTimes this week delineated how far we have come from the 3 shades available in the 1950"s- vanilla, chocolate and strawberry.

No wonder Kate Winslet was so miserable in Revolutionary Road.

Middle Age, Before It Came Out of a Bottle

By Patricia Cohen

Published: March 7, 2009

some excerpts:

"In the late 1950s and early 1960s, Clairol’s memorable campaigns for the new 20-minute treatments — “Does she or doesn’t she?”; “Is it true blondes have more fun?”; and “The closer he gets, the better you look” — did much to drain the taint and artificiality associated with hair dye. In advertisements, glamorous movie stars were replaced by unknown models portraying someone who resembled the slightly more attractive woman next door; someone like you."

Clairol slogans illustrated by me:

“Does she or doesn’t she?"

“Is it true blondes have more fun?”;

“The closer he gets, the better you look”

Liam is pondering his own deep questions

Are grey whiskers sexy?

will my girlfriends, Rosie, Molly, Kendl and Syd, like them?
Liam is hiding them-see below

I show him a pic of People mag's sexist man alive 2x, George Clooney

t

But some grey in the whiskers seems to be fine with that hunk George Clooney

and so, Liam proudly shows his grey whiskers above

Woof, Woof

Express Checkout 10 Items or Less

The weekly food shopping chore for me was back to Sunday this week. King Kullen seemed a bit more crowded this time. I decided that it was due to daylight savings time assaulting our cozy sleep the night before; propelling people out to shop in the extended daylight and warmth. The weekly food shopping is a team effort. Paul (editor of LiamLicks) prepares the list and I (writer of LiamLicks ) do the physical act of shopping. Understood is that if I notice a weekly staple missing from the list I get the item. This trip I did notice an omission. Salad greens, a staple. I also remembered a conversation the night before- Paul was preparing his Saturday special meal list-a shopping trip completely pleasurable, separate and not a "chore". Paul, "will you be having salad with dinner? My mind envisions a towering treat I recently shared with friends; a lush plate of avocado, organic greens, crab meat and mangoes with a mint garnish.. I ask "Is it the usual mundane salad, without cheese, nuts, dressing and totally healthy?" Paul says "Yes" Paul's salad to the right> Count me out. Paul "Okay, I'll be the only one for salad."
Next day at the store I did notice salad was not on the list. I thought it was too obvious, a trick of some kind. I rationalize its omission by the conclusion that since I did not have salad last night there must be an abundance of greens remaining. I make the decision not to pick up the salad greens and am at peace with it. I have an an easy shopping day, no trouble in the aisles and the songs played mercifully do not include My Boy Lollipop and These Eyes; I get to hear Soldier Boy, Walking in the Rain and South Street.-these songs tug me back to a sweet part of my life. All is good. I return and Paul announces there was a big omission "Let's see if you caught it." No, I did not right any wrongs on this trip, no good Samaritan here, not my job, dude, this girl has to carry all the stuff, why do I have to make list corrections also? Nevertheless, salad is important for the evening and for the next day's lunch. Paul still works and lunch comes from home. "I'll go back" I say, sort of weakly. "No don't" Paul answers, not really convincingly. "No, I will" in a whisper. " You don't really mind, do you?" I recognize this form of the question, termed a "negative leading question," where the person feels they must answer with a negative reply. I am not immune to its power. I am sucked in. "No, I do not mind."

I am going back.
I am in KK, get the salad greens, add some plant spikes, hate to have only one item; maybe these could serve a dual purpose besides fertilizing my plants, possibly add some height to the salad and elevate it to a non-boring status.
Then the drama/comedy/farce begins. Woman (hottie) in front of me has one item-looks like cheese in a bag..

However, there are two people in front of her: mother and teenage daughter; Mom has a cart with many items. Oh no, two people, one vehicle for products. They are doing that divide and conquer thing. The daughter is packing the first ten.. The Mom pays for them with cash. Then Mom puts out the next ten and pays by check. We now have a 20-item cart paid in two transactions.

Not Fair

Mom has a haughty look, is focused on the register screen, never glancing back at the burgeoning line. I stare intently at her, and then the cashier, then back at her daughter, trying to instill guilt in one, in two, or all three of them. After all, I am a product of 16 years of Catholic school. Why were the nuns so good at guilt installation? I look back at the line. One person is engrossed in "the Star", another is lost in "In Style." These customers will not complain because they are "cheating" also. Neither will buy these magazines and they are probably hoping the wait goes on longer so they can finish the articles they are reading. Guy behind me is staring at the Hottie in front of me. Yes, she is hot. Hottie is glazing over; removing herself from the present. Therefore, it is me alone with this conundrum, this debacle of justice, this, well you know my story-with this new material for LiamLicks.
I have a secret. I do not mind what happens, I write about it.

The 20 items of the 20-item women are paid for and packed. The teenager begs for a bag of chips, which Mom allows her to get while we all wait. I sigh very loudly, cashier mouths in my direction- I am sorry-the chips become the 21st item. The 21-item Mom and daughter finally are done and leave. I try to shoot my disgusted thoughts toward their disappearing backs. They do not turn around.

Hottie's item is rung up. But wait. Where did all her bags come from? Was the cheese just a tease? the tip of the iceberg? She had more? No. My active imagination. The bags must be from CVS. She is a one-item hottie.

My turn. Cashier is very friendly. We have that casual cashier/costumer relationship. She has gotten a haircut-looks fab-but I withhold my compliment. This parsimonious act of "compliment withholding" diminishes me; I know that very well, but consider me diminished by this small minded act. Cashier let the 21-item woman on the express line. My revenge on the cashier is to let her new haircut go unnoticed by a serial complimenter-me.

Liam wonders:
There is one family, one cart of 20 items-if they divide their items into 2 purchases of 10 a piece, is that okay for the express line?
There is one person with 20 items who alleges he/she is buying for a house-bound friend -so each sale of 10 is rung up and paid for separately, is that okay for the express lane? Is an invisible friend acceptable?
Do ten bottles of coke and 5 cans of peas count as 2 items (cause 10 cokes are the same species, as are 5 cans of peas, or are they 15 stand alone items?
If you only have one item and the person on front of you has 10, should he/she offer to let you go in front of him/her? Should you ask?
If those reading "The Star" and "In Style" finish the articles before reaching the cashier, should they be liable for payment?

Feel free to comment-Liam is waiting

Woof, Woof

Did Wilma Flintstone have a dog?

Liam chewed through one strap on most of my bras so upon seeing the plethora of one shoulder dresses at the 2009 Oscars the thought occurred to me that this fashion choice might have been dictated by the women's dogs eating their bra straps. An LL reader commented that this style was pioneered by Wilma Flintstone and so it was! see> The question then follows did Wilma and Fred have a dog? Pebbles would have been a great doggy name but it seems that was the name of their child.

For those who are fuzzy on the Flintstones (on TV 1960-1966), here is a little bio:

Wilma Pebbles Slaghoople Flintstone (maiden name Pebbles or Slaghoople—see below) is a fictional character in the popular television animated series The Flintstones. She was the red-headed wife of caveman Fred Flintstone, daughter of Pearl Slaghoople, mother of Pebbles Flintstone and a grandmother. Her best friends were her next door neighbors, Betty and Barney Rubble.

Wilma's personality was based on that of Alice Kramden, wife of Ralph Kramden on the 1950s television series The Honeymooners. Thus, much like Alice, Wilma played the strong-willed, level-headed person in her marriage, often criticizing Fred for pursuing his various ill-fated schemes. Wilma would also often be the one to bail out Fred when one of his schemes landed him in trouble.

Eventually, Wilma and Fred were married, and Wilma became a homemaker, keeping house with such prehistoric aids as a baby elephant vacuum cleaner, pelican washing machine, and so forth. Wilma also enjoyed volunteering for various charitable/women's organizations in Bedrock, shopping, and (occasionally) getting to meet the celebrities of their world, including "Stony Curtis" and "Cary Granite".

In the original series' third season, Wilma became pregnant, and gave birth to the couple's only child, Pebbles.

When Pebbles was a teenager, Wilma (along with Betty) gained employment as a reporter for one of Bedrock's newspapers, the Daily Granite (a spoof of the Daily Planet of Superman fame), under the editorial guidance of Lou Granite (a parody of The Mary Tyler Moore Show's Lou Grant). While employed there, she shared various adventures with prehistoric superhero Captain Caveman, who (in a secret identity) also worked for the newspaper (a la Clark Kent).

Later still, after Pebbles grew up and left home, Wilma started a successful catering business with her neighbor and friend Betty, before becoming a grandmother to Pebbles' twin children, Chip and Roxy.

No Dog mentioned :(

Woof, Woof

A New Washer/Dryer

P.C. Richard is where we get all our appliances, PCs, TVs, radios (does anyone have a radio anymore?) GPS, DVD players, all of it, except cameras, which I get online. So when the washer started smoking it seemed another visit was imminent. Paul immediately blamed my robe as the cause, saying it had caused an imbalance in the rinse cycle and that I had probably overloaded the machine. I was ready for this accusation though, and I always wash his robe with mine now as I am a recovering overloader. I showed him that his robe was also present in the mix- I was cleared of guilt-it was simply the washer finishing its final life cycle at 18 years. I put it on "rinse" one more time so it could go out in style with a flurry of creaks and high pitched whines. Regis Boy then declared "time for a new washer/dryer". I was assigned the job of buying them at our favorite appliance store, P.C. Richard. I walked in and a salesperson came over right away. I told him what I wanted and that I was ready to buy. His name was Tom Keating. I was thinking that I bought my PC from him last February, but there would be time for renewing an old acquaintance after the sale. Then came then dreaded question, "gas or electric"? We have gas heat. Must be gas. I reply without hesitation, "Gas". Okay we find them, two different brands, has to fit in the 1948 basement doorway, and Maytag-my brand of choice, makes dryers too big for our doorway. Okay-deal done-A Maytag washer and Whirlpool dryer-diversity- change we can believe in. Now comes the question I love as a retiree: "when can we deliver?" " I am retired" I say gleefully-then I wait for the shocked response. So far it has happened 100% of the time. Tom comes through "No way". "You look too young" see photo -this is how Tom must see me. At this point I have to decide if I reveal that Feds can retire in their 50's. I am confident the compliment will hold. After all, he is a salesmen. I say, "We can retire before 62, not entirely admitting to be age 58. Tom says "You must hear it a lot, that you look too young too be retired." Yes, I do" at least for now.
I buy the two items and as I am leaving the store I remember-yes, it was Tom who sold me my computer last February- the memory of the conversation fights its way out of my crowded brain to the front of my mind. I had asked him if he knew my friend Paul Keating and he had said "No" He then countered with "Do you have a teacher relative, Mr. McNiff"? "No I don't". Turns out the teacher McNiff was a tough one- still giving poor Tom nightmares.
The delivery is set for Friday, March 6. I have a window of time 11-2. The P.C. Richard men arrive at the end of the window of time, then proceed to eat lunch in the truck, while Liam and I spy on them from the kitchen window. They have to eat-guess this is their lunch break. I always have to worry about Liam when deliveries are made. He wants to lick and play with all who come in. So my procedure is to let him out the side until he throws his body against the door often enough for the delivery men to say "let him in"> So far all the folks have been dog people. The two men come in, play with Liam, march downstairs and as soon as they disappear to the left side of the basement I hear "No go", and they emerge smiling. Liam is afraid of the basement, is waiting up top, is happy his new playmates are back so soon, woof woof
The leader slyly announces " you have ordered a gas dryer but you need an electric one". He seems very pleased with this development. I am mortified. I knew that question from Salesman Tom. " Is it gas or electric"? was make or break one. "So what happens"? I ask " Call the store-" He adds "the clue should have been the outlet with the plug" Of course! I have seen that plug at every washing session. I also realize why they are so happy. My mistake has shortened their work day. They are done early on a Friday-their weekend has begun. I have done a * Mitzvah. One of my retirement goals is to do as many as I can each day.


*Mitzvah.

Main Entry:

mitz·vah

Pronunciation:

\ˈmits-və\

Function:

noun

1 : a commandment of the Jewish law
*2 : a meritorious or charitable act, such as ordering the incorrect dryer, causing the P.C. Richard's men to have a shortened Friday workday and early weekend

They call P.C. Richard, the dispatcher at the store calls me, I call Paul, Salesman Tom calls me, I go back, I buy another dryer, save $ 168.00 and we are on for a revisit Sat.
It is Saturday, they are here, just in time for the my chore of laundry. I do not have to drag my clothes in the street to the pay laundry. I can stay home-here is the happy couple-
a mixed marriage of Maytag and Whirlpool. Change we believe in.
Yay

Woof, Woof

First Snow Day in 5 Years

Schools closed and Liam played The snow watch commenced when we returned from the shower, actually after the end of Amazing Race. The school closings started scrolling across the bottom of the screen. I get excited about this, as it NEVER happened when I was in school. In the '50's and 60's when I was going to school-they never closed because the nuns lived right there. They just walked down from the convent and appeared in the classroom. A miracle! below Dec '61The parents sent us out with plastic bags over our shoes in our boots and did not expect us back.
My job Sunday night was to call the work emergency number at 11PM. I also posted it on Facebook as there was a need expressed by some SSA employees. So I called, put the Blackberry on speaker The message announced a delayed opening. Not what the hubby wanted to hear and it was my blackberry that delivered this odious news. He stared at it with disgust. Fast forward to Monday morning, Liam and I are sleeping in and Paul informs us that the message has changed-work is closed!!!! He praises the brilliance of this decision as well as the original announcement of a delayed opening. Paul explains to me in his best "Regis Boy" voice that the announcement of a delayed opening was very smart as it bought time for an informed weather based decision in the morning before people had set out. Of course, that was the plan all along - this was now very obvious. , I respond-I am just glad to be retired and not have to worry about getting in because as a manager I would have tried. Paul began shoveling and Liam began exploring, attempting to do his business... this looks deep

above-How do I get through this, the snow is up to my neck?
I Have to jump

Yikes, that is cold on my belly and my private parts Arooooooooooooooooo

I am done, let me back in from the Winter Wufferland


Woof, Woof