The joy of anniversary

As we approach Memorial Day weekend 2013, I find that I have two important anniversaries coming up:

The Anniversary of My Retirement

I retired on May 31, 2008, after 37 years with the Federal Government, which makes next week five years since I retired. They say "Time flies when you're having fun" and I guess that explains why it seems that it was only two years ago that I said goodbye to working full-time (and working for a paycheck). One of the things I worried about with retirement was finding something to give me the sense of fulfillment and achievement that doing my job gave me.

I didn't need to look far to find the answer--volunteering! I have held upwards of a dozen different volunteer "jobs" in the five years I've been retired; some have given me a great sense of fulfillment and some less so, but I have enjoyed them all to some degree. They have also allowed to me to meet some outstanding people in my new town/state (the spirit of volunteerism here in Delaware is quite amazing). I still actively do about four volunteer "jobs" including my newest venture--becoming a Big Sister last month.


The Anniversary of My Healthier Lifestyle Journey

As I was approaching 50, my doctor in Alexandria, Virginia was losing patience with me. She said I needed prescription medication for my high cholesterol. I said I wasn't taking it (I had my reasons, both in family history and in general). Finally, one day she said "Sheri, I know you know what to do but you're just not doing it!" That took me aback...but she was right. I did know what to do.

I had spent my life learning about weight loss, going on perpetual diets and getting fatter and fatter because I could never stay on them long-term. I was stuck and frustrated. At that time, I had reached my highest weight ever. I realized that the time had come to make a change, especially given my high cholesterol, high blood pressure and family history of diabetes. I had given up "dieting" when I turned 40. I'd tried healthy eating before, but I went too far...too strict...and I couldn't maintain it.

Thankfully, I discovered a show called Cooking Thin on the Food Network that spring hosted by a chef named Kathleen Daelemans (aka KD). I loved her approach. She loved food as much as I did, but she had learned moderation that allowed her to maintain a substantial weight loss for 10 years. I decided to make her my mentor (even if she didn't know it). I bought her cookbook (which is part cookbook, part "put on your big girl panties and DO IT" pep talk). Within a month, I'd found my way to her fan website on Food Network's site. There, I met a bunch of great ladies, all facing the struggle in some way or another.

The "KD sisters" were my education. I learned about cooking healthier, eating healthier, journaling and exercising from them. But the most important piece, a piece that had always been lacking for me in "diet" plans, books and magazine articles, was the psychological piece. We talked a lot about feelings, cravings, behavior...how to change our minds from the old mindset to a mindset that would allow us to be successful at healthy living for a LIFETIME. It was very important to me that this not be "just another diet" because I'd failed miserably at that.

After learning how to live healthier from KD and the sisters, I officially began my journey to healthier living on July 1, 2003. July 1 this year is the 10-year anniversary of beginning my journey. It is mind-blowing to think that I have been at this for TEN YEARS! I never did lose all of the weight I wanted to lose, but I did lose 30 pounds in the first year. What I am most proud of though, because I had never been able to accomplish it before, is that in ten years I have never gone back to my original weight. I have learned and incorporated enough of the KD sisters' wisdom that I can maintain within a certain range--higher than my lowest weight but lower than my highest weight. I still haven't given up on my dream of getting to my goal weight (or nearby) some day. But if and when I get there, it will be sensibly...and for a lifetime. Dieting is a dirty word! :)

I am blessed to still have many of the KD sisters in my life ten years later (on Facebook). We still talk about feelings. We still support one another through challenges, congratulate one another's accomplishments, no matter how small (because we know it's all about baby steps). I don't think I could have done this, maintained this lifestyle for 10 years, without them. I'm thankful I never had to.

The joy of napping

When I was working full time, there were days when I so wished I could take a nap, but napping to me back then was sleeping for 2 or 3 HOURS, which then ruined the whole day (not to mention that night's sleep). I NEVER awoke from a nap feeling refreshed--only grumpier and groggier. So how could I have known that, just a few years later, napping would become such a supreme pleasure?

Five months after my retirement in 2008, I adopted a 9-month-old puppy (Missy the Shih Tzu). I had never known a Shih Tzu at that time, so I did some Googling and discovered that they are a very friendly breed with a great need for attention and affection. While all dogs love attention from their humans, Shih Tzus crave physical affection. They want to be near you, if not ON you, as much as possible. Hence, Missy slept with and against me every night.

One day, I was feeling unusually tired and thought I'd lay down for a nap. Missy nuzzled up against me and I went right to sleep (something I struggled with while working). I don't remember how long I slept that first nap with Missy, but I do remember thinking it was a really pleasant experience. As time went on, and naps with Missy became a regular occurrence, I began to set a timer to ensure that my naps were not too long, and so that I didn't miss any appointments.

I started to really ENJOY napping--hedonistically so, in fact. One of my favorite "nappy" memories was one day last spring when the weather had started to warm but the breeze was still quite cool. I had opened the window a few inches to let in some fresh breeze and, when Missy and I took our nap that day, we snuggled under a blanket right in front of the open window. The strong, cool breeze ruffled my hair. It was ALMOST too cold, but it was also wonderful.

I've been retired five years next week and I stay pretty busy with volunteer work, but I still make time for a nap some days. I've trained myself to take shorter naps and find that I can now awake most of the time feeling refreshed and great.

I think it was my former colleague, Bonnie T., who said that napping is a one of the perks of retirement. I have become a true believer!

The joy of online friends

Once upon a time (a long, long time ago), a Government contractor walked up to me at work and asked "Do you have a home computer?" When I answered yes, he handed me a business card. It was for his BBS (bulletin board system), which was the way folks got online back before the Internet was widely used and AOL became a household name. Thus began my long history of making friends online.  I have made many more friends online (some of whom I've never met) than in "real life."  Some online friends have also become long-time "real life" friends.

In those early years online, I met a group of local people that were all pretty silly like me (as you can see from the picture at left).  Some of us travelled together for 10 years--from 1996 to 2006. We went on three Caribbean cruises together; made three trips to the Hawaiian islands; gambled together in Vegas, Atlantic City and Paradise Island (in the Bahamas) and had a few other trips in between.  We got along well, liked doing the same things, and had a lot of fun.

Below, you'll see sisters Helen & Lynn and I at a luau in Maui (Hawaii) and having lunch in a Paradise Island restaurant.  Below that, the larger group is shown in Kauai (Hawaii) and at the ruins in Mexico.

Some years later, I joined AOL and was fortunate enough to find my way to two fantastic chatrooms--DC Chit Chat and Bookaccino--both of which had a major impact on me.  The first group was local, so we socialized regularly in person; the other was national, and there was an annual gathering in a major city somewhere in the U.S.  The first two pictures below are of some of our DC chat group at the wedding of two of our members, and at the Maryland Renaissance Festival.  The second two pictures are of the Bookaccino group at the two annual gatherings I attended--one in Baltimore, MD and one in Philadelphia, PA.

In 2003, I decided the time had come for me to finally change my lifestyle over the long term in terms of eating and exercise for health reasons, so I joined an Internet board dedicated to those issues.  There, I met many wonderful and supportive people, one of whom was Denise, who lives on the West Coast.  Denise continues to be a close friend of mine to this day, despite having only met her in person one time for a few hours (she and her family came to DC for a vacation in 2005).  We speak every week via AIM (AOL instant messenger).

In the past two years, I have made many friends on Flickr, a photo-sharing website to which I am a frequent contributor.  I even became re-acquainted with a woman on Flickr who I'd originally "met" on the healthy eating board but who no longer frequents that board.  I have not had the honor of meeting any of my Flickr friends in person yet, but I feel pretty certain that it will happen eventually.

I have also "met" new friends on Dogster, a pet-lovers site; Twitter, a social networking site; Shelfari, a book-lovers site and a website for Amazon Vine reviewers. 

I've known people who would come right out and say that online friends weren't "real."  I've known a number of people who would be chatting with the group every day for a year and then suddenly disappear into thin air, never to be heard from again--not caring enough to let us know what happened and why they were no longer part of the group.  To those of us who take our online friendships as seriously as "real life" friendships, this was often hurtful.  Even as much as computers are a part of our world now, there will always be people who will minimize online friendships.  That's their opinion.  And their loss, too.

My life is so much richer, my knowledge and contacts so much broader, because I have been lucky enough to have such diverse and wonderful online friends.  Whether I ever meet them in person is hardly important.  You don't have to be standing in front of me to matter.  And that's MY opinion.

The joy of generosity

My heart is full as I write this on the evening of Febuary 7, 2010. Our little beach town was slammed with its worst snowstorm in decades, as was much of the East Coast. We lost power Friday night and temperatures Saturday night dipped to around 15 degrees. Having grown up in Ohio, I wasn't afraid of the snow--I went out and shovelled at regular intervals during the day so that I could have a path to take my dog out to go potty--but what scared me was spending the night alone in the dark without power when temperatures were going to get that cold.

Two angels, a couple who live on the other side of my community, had purchased a mighty generator and already had several electric or gel fireplaces. They started taking in neighbors around lunchtime on Saturday, especially the elderly. They invited me but I kept holding out, not wanting to leave my home and make the arduous trek through hip-high snow to the other side of the development. Finally, just after dark, when I saw how quickly the tempurature inside my apartment was plummeting, I gave in and called to say I was coming. They sent two people from that end--one a new but dear friend of mine--and another was coming from my end. They carried my backpack and my dog while I trudged through the dark, the snowstorm raging in 50 MPH winds and whiteout conditions.

With the arrival of my neighbor and I, there were a total of 9 people and 4 dogs in this 2-bedroom condo. While of course it was comforting to have companionship, SOME heat and light and even a TV on which to keep up with the latest news of the storm, I am at heart a solitary person--it would be disingenuous of me to say that being sardined into a livingroom with 8 other people and 4 dogs for almost 24 hours was a fun time for me.

That said, I am so grateful for the generosity of spirit, shelter, food and blankets that these ladies provided, despite the fact that most of us barely know them and vice versa. It makes me almost tear up to even think of their sacrifice for us and their kindness to us, not to mention the women who shovelled a pathway from the court where we were holed up to the court where most of the evacuees lived, the women who shepherded me and my dog through the storm, etc.

The real shocker of this weekend, though, in terms of generosity was my upstairs neighbor. He and I have had a rather contentious relationship for the 2+ years I've lived here. And yet, while I was out shovelling snow Saturday, he offered me a potfull of hot water that he'd heated on his grill so that I could have a cup of hot tea when I came in from shovelling. He then said he'd be making he and his roommate a complete steak dinner on the grill and that he'd be delivering one to me as well. I was flabbergasted...and touched. He did as promised and I tore into it like a person who hadn't eaten in 24 hours--which was almost the truth. I'd eaten cheese and crackers and cereal but it was the first HOT meal I'd had in 24 hours. It was heavenly.

The snow plow arrived in our development about 4:30 Sunday afternoon and worked for hours clearing the deep snow and even deeper drifts from our parking lots and driveways. It is now the next morning (see note below), and I've just returned from walking my dog for the first time post-plowing. It looks like another planet out there--or, at the least, another area of the country--there are huge piles of snow everywhere and every inch of pavement is covered in a thick sheet of ice. Luckily, I invested in ice cleats last summer, so this wasn't a problem. However, in trying to clean up after my dog, I found myself hip deep in frozen snow and fell over, but was able to eventually right myself. So even walking the dog was an adventure!

I have already written thank you notes to the neighbors who provided me food and shelter during this crazy, scary weekend. I am currently writing notes to the ladies who assisted me in my trek through the storm to shelter and who shovelled a partial path yesterday so all of us who had stayed the night could get safely home. It doesn't begin to express how much their kindness and generosity touched me and helped me, but it is a start.

I am blessed. And I am warm.


Note: While I was writing this Sunday night, my power went out again--luckily this time for only a short while--so I am actually finishing this on Monday, February 8th. Thankfully, Blogger had saved a draft of what I'd already written (all but the last two paragraphs) and I didn't have to start over. WHEW!

The joy of exercise

As an overweight woman over 55 with a major family history of diabetes, heart disease and high cholesterol, exercise is a necessary evil. Most people hate exercise. I find that the hardest part for me is just getting started. Once I'm at the gym, I often quite enjoy it. With the exception of a year or two just prior to and just after retirement, I have been a member of a gym since late 1998. That doesn't always mean I WENT to the gym regularly; I generally went through phases of going and not going.

When I lived in Virginia, I joined a gym next to my office building. I tried working out before work and at lunchtime, but found both provided inadequate time to get in a full workout plus the shower, hair and makeup routine that follow, and still get to work (or back to work) on time. Eventually, I mostly went to the gym on days I wasn't working. This gave me the freedom to take classes (like the hellaciously-demanding step aerobics class I used to take on Saturdays) and stay at the gym as long as I liked.

Here in Delaware, I work out at a small community gym. It isn't fancy like my previous gym--it doesn't have a pool, sauna, hot tub or shower room--but it has plenty of equipment and a huge free weight room as well, so it meets my needs for now.

In my experience, I am unusual in that I am a woman (especially a woman over 55) who enjoys weightlifting. I love the sense of accomplishment it gives me when I can lift more than last year, the definition in my muscles and the feeling of being powerful.

Most women seem to be afraid of weights. They worry about building muscle--looking like Arnold Schwarzenegger. I have tried to explain to many women over the years that we, as women, do not have the testosterone needed to build massive muscles (not to mention that many men with bulky muscles have taken steroids to help them build that mass). I frankly find muscle definition sexy and am happy to find more definition in my upper arms, etc.

It's not all about the gym, though. From 2003 to 2008, I was big into doing workouts on DVD at home. I did kickboxing, tai chi, Pilates, ballet, weightlifting, hula dancing, belly dancing--just about anything you can think of that doesn't require much (or any) equipment. I still own a nice library of exercise DVDs and I rent others from the online DVD rental company, Netflix. Netflix has a great selection and renting is a wonderful way to determine whether a workout is right for you before you invest in buying it. Trust me, I learned the hard way!

I'm also a walker of many years. I think that is the exercise that gives me the most enjoyment. On a beautiful, sunny day, I used to regularly walk for an hour or more, including a pretty daunting hill in my old Virginia neighborhood. Sadly, the area of Delaware where I live now is flat as a pancake, so there just isn't the challenge with walking that there was in Virginia.

I have a dog now, so most of my walking these days is at the other end of a little white fluffy thing. Thankfully, she loves to walk as much as I do so, when the weather is nice, we take some nice long walks. I do miss walking on my own, though. I'm thinking that, when the weather gets nicer in the spring, I may start shortening my walks with the dog to allow me to start walking on my own again. When I'm out there with my iPod and the breeze in my hair, I am in the zone.

Kind of like my favorite new piece of exercise equipment--the water rower. I'd never seen one before I joined my new gym in Delaware. Instead of pulling weights, you're pulling against the force of water. As you'll hear in the video below, it sounds like you're actually rowing a boat. When I turn on a fan and close my eyes, I can almost think I'm outside rowing.

The joy of giving

I guess it seems strange to some (given the reactions I've gotten from friends and family), but I've dreamed of volunteering for years. When I was working nearly 11-hour days during the career phase of my life, I just didn't have it in me to give time to others at the end of the day, and my weekends were the only free time I had, so they were too precious to give up on an ongoing basis. So, when I did volunteer work during my that time, it was a few hours here, a one-day event there, but it wasn't the kind of volunteering I wanted to do. That would have to wait for retirement.

I've now been retired for 1 1/2 years. In that time, I've given of my time by answering phones for the State welfare office, fundraising for an animal sanctuary, attending meetings of an emergency preparedness organization, reading to preschool children and interviewing and writing profiles of people doing good works for a volunteer- and over-50-focused website. I've gone from working 10-11 hours a day to working 10-11 hours a week (at most). My goal was to find a balance between being of service and being retired--and that's just what I've done.

I've been reading to preschool children at a Head Start school for nearly a year now. Back when I was dreaming of volunteering in retirement, literacy was always a field with which I wanted to be involved. I found a fantastic organization called "Read Aloud," whose mission is to not only prepare children for school and help them excel, but to actually foster a love of reading and books. Being a lifelong and avid reader, this was a mission that I could enthusiastically support.

About two months ago, I had an idea to do something special for "my kids" at the school. I started to buy children's books from Amazon in batches--focusing on books on sale when I could--to make my goal of giving every child I read to a book for Christmas. After checking with the school and with Read Aloud, I got the green light to make it happen.

The week before Christmas, I arrived with a big bag of books to my Monday afternoon class. I explained that, instead of reading to them, each child would get to choose from a selection of books as a gift from me. The kids couldn't believe it. "I can take this HOME with me?!?" many of them said as they made their choices. Their eyes got wide when I wrote each of their names in their book. "You're going to WRITE IN IT?!" they'd say in shock. "Yes," I'd answer, smiling, "because this is YOUR book to do whatever you want with." Their smiles said it all.

On Wednesday morning, I did it all again with my other class. The teacher gathered all the children with their books and took a picture of me with the class. As I was packing up to go, two little girls came up and gave me big hugs and said thank you. Maybe I gave a lot in dollars and books, but those two hugs and all the smiles in that picture were a priceless gift to me.

The joy of a hot bath

When I lived in my built-in-1958 Virginia apartment, I had a REAL tub--none of this fiberglass hogwash--and I loved to take baths. Not just any baths. Bubblebaths. I collected bubblebath scents the way some women collect shoes. If it was a weekend and I wasn't expected anywhere too soon, sometimes I even took candlelit bubblebaths...with the lights off, candles twinkling around the edge of the tub and music playing (Nat King Cole was my favorite bathtime crooner).

Since I moved into my built-in-2006 retirement condo at the beach in Delaware, I have had to come to grips with the world of fiberglass bathroom fixtures. I don't mind it so much in my master bathroom, where I have a nice big walk-in shower stall that doesn't require me to cling to walls and towel bars in order to climb in (short legs, ya know).

The only tub in the joint now is a fiberglass one. It's shorter than my old ceramic tub; you'd think that would be a benefit since I'm a shorty; I'm not yet convinced. The worst thing about my tub is that it is damned uncomfortable--for me at least. You see, it is angled at the back--supposedly to make it more comfortable to soak in--but being a shorty, it just doesn't fit me right and I can't get comfortable, even with a washcloth folded behind my neck.

Quickly, my bubblebath habit went by the wayside. What's the use of taking a bubblebath if you can't relax and enjoy it? I mean, isn't that the POINT of bubblebaths? My Bath & Body Works bubblebath collection sat neglected under the sink, holding up a pile of bathmats. I love my place and I'm not willing to move to get a better bathtub but, man, it was a bummer.

Cut to almost two years later and I've got some kind of ick in my throat and my head and it's the weekend, which means my doctor's office isn't open. My neck and shoulders are killing me, probably because I've been sleeping weirdly because I can't breathe or swallow. I was starting to turn the corner and feel a little better. I hadn't showered because I was dizzy, weak, had the chills, etc., and was afraid I'd keel over in the shower.

Then it came to me--a bath. A bubblebath! "Oh, but it's uncomfortable." came the voice of my Inner Grump. I was beyond caring. When you're already feeling that bad, almost anything is going to be an improvement. While I ran a nice hot bath, I shuffled between my master bath and the guest bath (where the tub is), ferrying necessities.

Suddenly, caught up in my excitement, I noticed my dog looking at me quizzically. First, I realized that, to her, the tub filling means SHE'S getting a bath. Which means that, in the entire year since I'd adopted her, she'd never seen me take a bath. Wow. Long time no bath!

When I sank into that hot, coconut- and vanilla-scented water, every part of my body let out a collective AHHHH. Not only did I find a way to be comfortable (rolled hand towel vs. washcloth), I completely forgot I was sick and that my throat hurt so bad I couldn't eat solid food. It was a complete escape. A complete joy.

I could almost hear the bubbles welcoming me back. "Ah, old friend. Welcome home!"

The joy of another year

Yesterday was my birthday. It's an odd feeling for me to realize that I'm now closer to 60 than to 50! Somehow, I still think of myself as 51 or 52 but the reality is that I'm now 57. I was a bit past the halfway point between age 55 and 56 when I retired last year.

Once I'd disclosed that I was pretty certain that I'd be retiring as soon as I was qualified (my 55th birthday), my hairdresser at the time, a very sweet and caring woman a few years older than me, gave me doom and gloom talks about early retirement at every monthly appointment . She said that her clients who retired early shrivelled up (metaphorically speaking, I assume), had medical problems, were depressed, etc., while her clients who were still working in their 60s and beyond were vital, healthy and full of life. She said she didn't want to see this same fate befall me and I could tell that she was genuinely concerned--she really saw early retirement as the kiss of death. If I am to be honest, it freaked me out for a while.

As touched by her worry as I was, I knew that it was time for me to go. I'd put in 37 years with the Federal government and 32 of them with the same agency. There were many years when I really enjoyed my job, but those years were starting to become a memory. I had been reorganized so many times that it was a wonder I could remember what floor to get off on when I came to work in the morning so, when I was once again thrown into another division with no warning in late 2006, my spirit took a major hit. That was the beginning of the end.

Two years ago today, I signed the contract on my new home at the beach. It marked the beginning of a new phase of life. In the space of that year--October 2007 to October 2008--I bought my first home, moved to another state, retired from my job and adopted a puppy. Now that's what I call a vital, full-of-life year!

In the past year--October 2008 to October 2009--I have done a number of volunteer jobs: answering phones for the State welfare office, reading to pre-school children at a HeadStart school, fund-raising for a no-kill animal shelter and writing for a website dedicated to inspiring Baby Boomers to volunteer. If I've done any shrivelling since my retirement, it's only due to age and osteoarthritis of my spine. Through my volunteer work with these organizations, I have met incredible people who are doing incredible things for their community, their State or beyond. These people inspire me to be more and give more.

When I was about to retire, a coworker said "Why would you want to retire so early and just sit in a rocking chair?" And I responded "Who said anything about sitting in a rocking chair?!?" Sure, I spend a lot of time at home...but then I always have (when I wasn't working). I strive for a balance between being retired and being of service...and that is what will keep me healthy and vital, along with going to the gym a few times a week and taking my dog for long walks daily.

So yes, I am thankful for another year...to be retired, to help others, to make friends, to be a puppy mama, to be a writer and a reader and to do nothing at all if I feel like it!!!

You know the old saying...another year older is preferable to the alternative!

The joy of finding the right fit

No, I'm not talking about clothes shopping, although finding clothes that fit is pretty joyful too, especially when you are built like me (short and stout, like the teapot song). I'm talking about finding a job (volunteer in my case) that fits your skill set to the point where you gain quite a bit of enjoyment in doing the job.

For the last 20+ years of my 37-year Federal Government career, I was (in part) a reader and editor of technical material and a writer of technical documentation (not technical as in computers, but as in regulations). Reading and writing have been interests of mine for as long as I can remember; I was writing poems and short stories from at least the age of 12.

I retired from the Government last year (summer of 2008), moved to the beach, and and went in search of meaningful work as a volunteer. I figured that, after giving 37 years of my life to the Government, it was time for me to do something I really LIKED to do. But what? My initial thought was that I wanted to volunteer in the fields of literacy and animal welfare.

I began my search on Volunteer Match (http://www.volunteermatch.org/), a great website where you can plug in your zip code and some parameters about what kind of volunteering you want to do into its search engine, and it will spit out a list of potential volunteer jobs. The problem was that list I was given for my new zip code in Delaware was only a tiny fraction of the list I used to get when I lived in the Washington, D.C. area. However, via that website, I discovered the Retired and Senior Volunteer Program (RSVP) for the county in which I lived.

I met with one of the RSVP coordinators right after I retired; I wanted to start some kind of volunteer work right away to help me transition from being a full-time worker to a lady of leisure. It just so happened that the State Department of Social Services (DSS) needed help answering phones. It wasn't what I had in mind, but I figured it was something I could get started on right away and would be easy-peasy and not stressful. WRONG!

Despite the fact that working at DSS often made me miserable, I kept doing it for 11 months because I really enjoyed the people I worked with. In the meantime, though, I started some other projects--reading to preschool children at HeadStart through the Read Aloud program, doing occasional fundraising for the county's first no-kill animal sanctuary, and attending board meetings of an animal disaster assistance organization.

Finally, in the spring of 2009, when I was reaching the end of my rope at DSS, RSVP offered me a new gig--a new nonprofit organization was starting up in Delaware and they needed someone from my county to write articles, interview people, take pictures at events, etc. BINGO! Now we were talking!

I've been volunteering for Coming of Age Delaware (CoADE) for a few months now. I quit my DSS job to allow me to devote more time to it (okay, it gave me an excuse to quit). While it may not excite me greatly (CoADE hopes to inspire those over 50 to volunteer and do other community service), it is a good fit for my skill set and I'm really enjoying it. I've written five articles for their newsletter and website (http://www.de.comingofage.org/). Three of them have been published thus far, and the other ones should be published in the coming month.

It gives me a thrill to have finally found a good fit. Maybe not the same kind of thrill as finding a pair of pants that can cope with both my ample posterier and my smaller waist, but a thrill indeed.

The joy of community

After being raised in a tiny 2-stoplight town in Ohio (where I knew almost everyone), I spent 37 years of my life in a major metropolitan area--in and around Washington, D.C. For 32 of those years, I lived in a small, older family-owned apartment complex in Alexandria, Virginia. In 32 years, I never had a neighbor who invited me into their home, nor did I invite any of them into mine. In my last number of years there, there were two older ladies--one next door and one across the street--who were pretty much the only people who spoke to me. I only knew my next door neighbor's name because I regularly got her mail.

When I would go out walking in my complex, I would smile and say hello or good morning to everyone I passed. Many people didn't even acknowledge me much less return my greeting or smile at me. This angered me. I thought--what is so hard about just smiling or saying hello? Why would you NOT? I never understood it and, while I enjoyed the area, it made me sad not to feel a sense of community in a place where I had spent more than 3 decades of my life.

Last year, I retired and moved to a small beach town on the Eastern Shore. My best friends had lived there for 20 years and I had visited regularly over the years. I called it my home away from home. During the years when my job and its attendant stress were taking a toll on me, this town and my friends' home was my escape and asylum from the madness.

I now live in a small condo community. Thus far (we are a new community), it is an all-adult community and predominately over 50, with perhaps 35% full-timers and 65% weekenders. For the first 6 months or so I lived here, I was the only full-timer in my building and only 1 of 3 or so full-timers in the entire community. There were moments when I thought "Here we go again." and wondered if I would ever feel the sense of community that I had hoped for; but, as more units sold, I got more neighbors--mostly weekenders but some more full-timers too.

Not quite 1 1/2 years after moving here, I finally feel that sense of community that I had craved. I love my neighbors! They are such wonderful people. I adopted a puppy last fall and the community has turned into a major "dog town." I have met most of the community before they even moved in, thanks to walking my VERY cute dog and living near the sales office. :)

I'm involved, via volunteering, with animal welfare, childhood literacy, human welfare and the over 50 population, which further gives me that sense of community--of being OF and doing FOR--and I am the happiest I have been in many, many years. When I walk my dog in this development and the next development over, people wave. Some come over to talk to me and pet Missy. I am meeting new people all the time. My dog has her community of pup pals too. :)

Change was a long time comin' as the song says...but it was well worth the wait.

The joy of retirement

Two weeks from today (on May 31), I will celebrate the first anniversary of the day I retired. I spent 37 years working for the Federal Government--the last 10 or so years in a very busy and stressful job. I hadn't planned to retire until I maxed out (i.e., until I had a high enough combination of years worked and age that my pension was as high as it was going to get, which would be another few years) but, as it turned out, I didn't make it that far.

In late 2006, I wasn't sure I was even mentally ready to retire (though I wouldn't qualify until late 2008 anyway). Shortly before my boss Frank's departure that fall, I asked him how he felt about his retirement and shared my concerns about whether I was ready to do the same. He said "Once you start to seriously think about retirement, you start leaning in that direction--and once you start leaning, it's hard to stop." By that point in my career, I knew exactly what he meant. It was one thing to be wistful and envious as many of our coworkers said their goodbyes, but to really seriously start fantasizing about being retired meant trouble.

Despite his warning, that is exactly what I did. I started to lean. I don't know if it was intentional or not. I still didn't know whether I was ready to go, but staying was starting to be a much less desirable prospect than going. In the spring of 2007, both of my staff members left for other jobs within months of one another. I held down the fort alone for several months, until we were able to hire one replacement. During this time, I got terribly sick. I was off work for two entire weeks. Well, it is more accurate to say that I was out of the office for two weeks, because I was still running things via email and phone from home.

Not too long after I returned to work, I had my mid-year performance evaluation with my new boss. I told him that those two weeks had given me a lot of time to think, and that one of the things I was thinking about was retiring as soon as I qualified (October 2008, when I would turn 55). As was my custom, I went to the beach for the week of my birthday. I drove from one condo development to the next for days trying to find my retirement home. On the day after my birthday, I bought a condo (some birthday present, eh?).

I came back to work and broke the news--I bought a condo at the beach...I can't afford to live and pay mortgage/rent and bills in both places...so I need to retire. We worked out a deal--I would move to the beach and telecommute all but one day a week, when I would drive back to the DC area and spend one day in the office. I moved to the beach on January 20, 2008, and drove back to DC once a week for 4 months, retiring as of May 31.

It is almost unbelievable to me that it has been a year--I guess this is what they mean when they say "time flies when you're having fun"! It has been a wonderful year. I am SO loving my home and living at the beach...I've kept myself busy with volunteer work and decorating and furnishing my home...and I adopted a puppy in October.

I thought I would have a tough time adapting--going from a Type A harried work life 10 1/2 hours a day to being retired--but, to my surprise, I had absolutely no problem adapting! Sure, I miss the people, but I don't miss feeling like a wound-up top every day; and I CERTAINLY don't miss traffic in the Washington, DC area, which sets new records for insanity every year.

I have a great home, wonderful neighbors, I am being of service to my community and I have the cutest dog in town (who makes me laugh every day). What's not to like?

So, if it feels right, go ahead and lean. I did, and I have never regretted it for a single minute.

The joy of flight

Yesterday, I was sitting here--in my home office, on the PC--when this strange noise arose outside my window. As it got louder, I realized what it was. I looked out my window and smiled, as what seemed like hundreds of snow geese winged right over me, honking up a storm. A few minutes later, another phalanx (my word--not sure it is apropos for a gaggle of snow geese) flew over.

It appears that I am on the flight path! One could, I suppose, consider such cacophony a nuisance, but I do not. I see it as a gift. Granted, if that much honking went on all day and all night, THEN I might find it a nuisance; but, as it is, it is just an occasional treat--to be witness to the joy of flight.

The joy of having enough

I am reminded for the eight hours per week that I volunteer with the State how blessed I am. Being so regularly reminded of my blessings is blessing in itself—it keeps me from getting complacent, from staying in my head too much, from assuming that everything is alright. Everything is SO not alright.

What I do at my volunteer job is to answer the main phone line for people who need help with food, medical insurance, housing, bills, etc. I do this job for 8 hours per week (two four-hour days). My coworker, Kathy, does it for the other 32 hours of the week when I'm not there. When I leave after 4 hours on the phones, my heart is heavy from hearing such sad stories and I feel drained. I don't know how Kathy does it for 8 hours a day. I could not.

Women call me crying because they have nothing to feed their children, and no money to buy food. People call me, freezing, because they cannot pay their heating or electric bills. Some are limited in job hunting or keeping a job because they cannot afford a vehicle…or they have a vehicle and can’t afford to put gas in it or to pay to get it out of the repair shop when something goes wrong with it. Some have been put out of their home due to foreclosure or eviction and call me, terrified, after spending their first night in a homeless shelter. Parents feel sad and helpless because they cannot afford to buy their children Christmas gifts.

Many people will judge those in such circumstances. They'll say these people are lazy, that they don’t want to work, that they won’t do what it takes to help themselves. Is this true of some of these people? Yes, I'm afraid it is. Is this true of all of them? Absolutely not!

There are people asking for help now who have never even thought of needing to do so before. The company they worked for went under and they lost their job (along with any benefits, such as health insurance, that may have come with it). They got sick, had no health insurance, and were driven into debt by the staggering hospital and doctor bills (and instead of being able to rest and take care of themselves once they’re out of the hospital, they have to scrabble to figure out how to stay afloat—how to keep from losing their house, etc.).

Before Missy came into my life two months ago, I was visiting the local SPCA weekly to see if I could help a dog escape euthanization (our SPCA is a kill shelter). In the weeks just before I got Missy, a third to a half of all the dogs in my local SPCA were surrenders--dogs that had been voluntarily turned over to the SPCA by their owners either because they could no longer afford to feed them or because the owners had lost their home.

Even some of my closest friends and family members are being hit hard by this economic downturn. My older brother just closed his home building business after 20+ years in operation. Several of my closest friends are struggling financially.

Things are bad. Really, really bad. Appreciate the joy of having enough. Recognize your blessings. And, if you're able, reach out to those who are struggling--either by giving of your time or your money. 'Tis the reason for the season, baby.

The joy of change

I have lived alone for many years. When you live alone for a long time, you get used to doing what you damn well please when you damn well please--for the most part, anyway. My routine got turned upside down 6 1/2 weeks ago when I adopted Missy, my Shih Tzu puppy. Now, there are Sheri's routines and there are Missy's routines and sometimes they clash, so Sheri's needs sometimes must take a back seat to Missy's.

Change is sometimes uncomfortable or even painful, but it is most often for the good. For a long time, I have tended to be too selfish, and caring for another living thing is helping me change that (and in return, of course, she gives me gobs of love and affection).

Since I am retired now, I have had the luxury of avoiding going outside when it is unpleasant--raining, snowing, extremely cold or windy--but living in a condo with a puppy, I no longer have this luxury. The dog must be walked. Change.

Between her energy, her friendliness and her "Nosy Nora" nature, Missy asks to out about every 2 hours. Naive me, I thought a dog asking to "go out" meant "I have to go potty." But, with Missy, sometimes it means "There is neighbor outside and I want to go say hi!" or "The Verizon man is across the street working on the power and I want to go say hi!" or "Denise (the condo sales manager) is in her office and I want to go say hi!" or "I see leaves falling from the trees and I want to go chase them!" or "I see Lynx (the neighbor's cat) and I want to go play with her!" So now I know to say "no" to some of her requests, especially when it's pouring rain or freezing cold.

Anticipating those freezing cold early-morning walks, I went and bought a double-layer ski-type jacket. I hate the cold. But go out in the cold I must...and right out of a warm bed, too. Change! Now that I have learned proper bundling-up procedure for those morning walks and can actually be comfortable while I'm out there, I've come to enjoy them more. Not to say I'm going to encourage hour-long walks in the freezing cold, but I'm at least not grumbling anymore.

Fall and spring are my favorite times of year. My absolute favorite weather comes at these times--a beautiful sunny day where the sun is warm but the air has a fresh coolness. I have always disliked losing those beautiful fall days to cold, harsh winter--and even moreso now that I have to be outside a lot more than I used to--but the seasons are inevitable. Change.

And now we have a new President-elect. This is change I can smile about!

The joy of being one

I have been single and unattached for the majority of my adult life. This has been especially true of the last eleven years, since L. moved to California. L. was a man whom I found captivating and frustrating in nearly equal measure (he was as close to the human equivalent of the Star Trek character, Spock, as I'd ever met). Ironically, before I met L., I had wished for a man who was as comfortable with solitude as I; L. was that--in fact, he was probably even more solitary a person than I--but I found it wasn't nearly so enviable a thing to have once I had it (funny how that happens, eh?). I loved him intensely, but I knew that he wasn't a man that I could be with for the rest of my life. When he moved to California, I was heart-broken, and yet I also knew it was probably for the best. L. and I are still friends to this day. He is now married.

I'm just fine with being one, but I wasn't always. I spent my 20s in bars with my best friend B, who was outgoing, flirtatious, built like a brick shithouse and, okay, let's be honest, easy. Men flocked to B. like flies on shit. I was cute, but I couldn't compete with that--I was an old-fashioned Ohio girl! I attracted my share of guys, but I had absolutely no luck at having relationships; at that time, that is what I wanted more than anything.

In my late 20s, I went through a spell where I would go out with B. and come home having met no one. I was despondent about it, because I was still locked in that quaint American mindset that I was supposed to be married by that age (this was the 70s). I became so unhappy, in fact, that I dropped out of dating entirely during much of my 30s and instead hung out with my new (at that time) gay guy friends. It may sound like a pathetic cop-out for a straight girl in the prime of her dating life, but it was one of the most joyous times of my life. I was able to go out, dance and have copious amounts of fun without the pressure of "Is someone going to ask me to dance? Will someone find me attractive? Will someone ask for my number?" I received unconditional love from my gay friends and I didn't have to be anyone but myself.

In my 40s, I found that I was no longer attracted to men my age or older as I had been in my 20s. I dated younger men during this time (which is when I met L., who was 13 years younger than I), but found that--except for L., who was intellectually and emotionally much older than his years--most of them weren't very interesting to talk to. It was in my 40s that I finally came to peace with the concept of being one. Perhaps I just wasn't meant to be paired, I reasoned, and what is so wrong with that? If it was meant to happen, it would; why spend precious time and energy worrying about it?

One of the joys of being one--at least for me--is that you become more comfortable with being with yourself (i.e., not always needing other people to enjoy yourself) and you learn more about who you are and what makes you tick. In my 40s, I definitely developed a clarity about who I was, what I wanted and what I didn't want--and I was no longer afraid of expressing that (I was an absolute wallflower in my 20s, so this was new ground for me). I learned to appreciate solitude--and eventually to require it.

One of the frustrations of being one--at least for me--is that most people have no concept for what it's like to be one. Since most people are paired and filter what they see through their own experiences, feelings and fears, people who are terrified of being alone tend to either treat me like a leper (I have been at the movie theatre alone and had people stare and give me wide berth as if I might infect them with my oneness) or like some pathetic creature who needs their nurturing.

Case in point: Years ago, I once had lunch at a regular haunt near my workplace and was paid an incredible amount of positive attention by the beautiful young man who was my waiter. I was not so silly to think it was attraction, but I couldn't figure out his motivation (it seemed overkill for a good tip, esp. since I was already known there to be a good tipper). At the end of the meal, he presented me with my check and said "I'm sorry that you had to have lunch alone." Ah. A nurturer. I gave him a smile, put down my book, and explained to him that I didn't have to lunch alone--that the hour I spent with a good book and a good meal was my oasis in an otherwise very stressful workday--and that, though he may not understand it yet, there are people who actually enjoy being alone and that I was one of them.

Being one in a society that trumpets "pairedness" as not only the norm but "the way" isn't always easy...but it is who I am.

The joy of relief

This morning, I came terrifyingly close to losing my little girl--what I call the 10-month-old Shih Tzu puppy who I adopted two and a half weeks ago. Missy and I were out for our first walk of the morning and I was distracted. Just before we left home, I'd heard a neighbor (though not one I immediately recognized) out behind my house frantically calling a name over and over; I presumed that her dog had run off.

Missy and I went out to help with the search but, by the time we got out to where the lady had been, she had switched to her car and was driving around the property, too far away for us to catch up. Missy and I proceeded on our usual walk route, but I kept looking around to see if I could catch sight of the dog. It was bitterly cold and windy for an early fall morning, so I was also distracted by being physically uncomfortable as the wind battered me.

Suddenly, Missy took off in a strong run--aimed straight for the major highway near our house--and between the distractions and the fact that I was new to wearing gloves while yielding the leash, the leash handle pulled out of my hand when she hit the end of the lead. Missy was running full steam toward the rush hour traffic whizzing by at 50-60 MPH and the terrible image of her being hit by a car flashed through my brain.

In a flat-out panic, I screamed her name over the howling wind and passing traffic until finally she stopped and turned around to see what I was so excited about. Getting her attention was only half the battle--us being new to one another, there hasn't been enough time for me to train her adequately to come on command. So I cautiously advanced, knowing how much she loves to be chased, not wanting her to start running again. After several agonizing seconds that felt like forever, I got close enough to the leash handle to step on it and keep her from advancing into the road if she took off again.

Soon, I had the leash back in hand and we resumed our walk. I'm sure Missy had no idea how hard my heart was beating and how labored my breathing was as we headed back home. To her it was probably just another day of romping in the grass and smelling the flowers. For me, it was a terrifying lesson about how important it is to stay focused on her when we're walking. I am so thankful that my scary experience had a happy ending. I can only hope the same for my neighbor.

The joy of a perfect fall day

Some people think it's weird that I live at the beach and yet I haven't actually been on the beach for more than a few minutes since I moved here in January. I don't find it odd at all. I love living at the beach--I just don't happen to love it as much during the summer as I do during the spring and fall. One reason is that I don't tolerate heat and humidity as well anymore, especially when the water is so cold that I can't easily get in the ocean to cool off. Another is that, in the summer, everyone is on the beach, including hundreds of people who don't live here.

Years before I ever thought of living at the beach, spring and fall were my favorite seasons. My idea of a perfect day, weather-wise, is a bright spring or fall day when the sky is a clear blue with puffy white clouds, there is a light cool breeze, and the sun's warmth balances the coolness so that you can still be comfortable without a jacket. As a person who loves to walk for exercise and yet has a low tolerance for heat, a day like this--with a temperature around 65-70 degrees--is as close to perfection as it gets.

Many days of the past two weeks here have been just like that. It was perfect weather for the new puppy and I to become accustomed to walking together in our first two weeks together. I'm finding that she likes the same kind of days I do--as a Shih Tzu, she has a low tolerance for heat too, so we're well suited. She loves the cool breeze that comes in the window from the trees behind my house along with the sights and sounds of the open window--crickets, cicadas, birds, butterflies, etc.

The past few days have been gray and cloudy, topping out at 60 degrees with a fierce, chilling wind that made me think about pulling out my winter hat and gloves. Not only has it not been pleasant to walk the dog, but I have found myself bummed out by the recent cold front--it is a portent that my perfect fall days are soon to be over and winter is on its way--but first, the forecast says we will have some more (slightly chillier) perfect fall days to enjoy. Get outside and enjoy them while they last!

The joy of puppy love

Today is my birthday. I got an early birthday present that I wasn't expecting--a puppy. A friend recommended me as a potential adoptive mommy to friends of theirs--a family who is going through a health crisis and had made the difficult decision to give away their 9-month-old Shih-Tsu puppy, Missy, because they didn't feel they could continue to care for her in light of this new unfortunate circumstance in their lives. After a meeting with the owner and Missy on October 4, Missy came to live with me.

Physically, I have rarely felt so much my age as I have this week; and yet, emotionally, I have felt young and happy. There is nothing quite like the love of a puppy to make you smile all over. While I am not elated about having to get out of bed and take Missy outside before the sun is even up, this is more than balanced by the joy of being greeted by Missy upon awakening. She climbs on me and kisses my nose and snuggles for a few moments to give me a chance to wake up before we go out.


One of the most joyous parts of being a new puppy mommy is seeing the world anew through her eyes. Her first big adventure was visiting some of my favorite haunts--the boardwalk, Lake Gerar (aka "the pond") and the seawall. She was enthralled by the seagulls, fascinated by the smells (Thrasher's fries, pizza, cheese steaks, fudge, you name it) and enchanted by all the people she met. She could barely contain herself with all the sensory input and it was sometimes a challenge for me to keep her out of the way of cars, bicycles, joggers and tourists.


I will admit, there have been moments when I questioned my decision--she is needy, has horrible separation anxiety, doesn't know how to play without biting and jumps on everything and everyone--but then I look at her sweet face, see how smart she is and how well she is learning new behaviors in just a week and I know she's worth the effort. I see how the tip of her little baby tongue sticks out when she brings me her squeaky toy and there is no way I can't smile. I hear her little baby growl when she says "Come on, play with me!" or "I have to GO!" and I have to laugh...even when she is getting on my last nerve.....like right now! Gotta go!

The joy of a country road

I find it ironic that, now that I'm living in a small town, my commute is longer (by both driving time and mileage) than when I was living in the Washington DC area--an area known for protracted and headache-inducing commutes. A Sussex County Delaware commute and a Washington, DC or Alexandria, VA commute can be quite different animals. In the DC area, you can sit at traffic lights at what seems like every 50 feet. In Sussex County, I'm currently driving almost a half-hour one way to my volunteer job and I do not sit at ANY traffic lights (I do hit a few flashing red lights where I have to stop and look for traffic but, if the intersection is clear, I don't have to wait to proceed).

Since I began this volunteer gig in July, I had been looking for a "nicer" route to work. The obvious route from my town to that town is the one that all the tourists use to get to my town (a beach resort); it being the most obvious and direct route, it is used pretty heavily in both directions, especially during beach season. There are a number of traffic lights on this route (though nothing like driving through Alexandria).

I recently started using a more rural route which completely avoids that major state route and uses country roads. According to Google Maps, the rural route is actually longer by mileage than the other route, but I get there faster because there is much less traffic and many fewer traffic lights. But getting there faster is only one reason why I use this route.

I was driving home from my gig yesterday--the sun shining, the crops waving in the wind, the car windows open to welcome in the strong breeze--and I was smiling. It was like being back in Ohio (where I grew up), except that Sussex County is flat as a pancake and the part of Ohio I'm from was very hilly. The crops in the fields were looking bedraggled, but it was all still so beautiful to me and filled me with a simple joy. A ride in the country was an event where I'm from in Ohio (what the heck else was there to do?); in fact, it still is when my siblings and I make it back there. My mother will pile us all in the car and off we'll go. Maybe we'll go shopping in an Amish town or visit our old hometown or maybe we'll just drive--the sun shining, the blue sky dazzling, the trees dancing--and enjoy the simplicity of being home again.

A friend from the DC area was visiting last weekend and I took her to lunch a few miles out of town. As we were driving, there was a large herd of cows all standing clumped together under the trees at the edge of this huge field. I said to my friend "Now that's not something you see every day in Alexandria." We both laughed, and I told her about my adventures since moving here--seeing huge turkey buzzards right on the road (eating the roadkill) and seeing roosters walking along the edge of the road. It's definitely a different kind of scenery than I had for the 37 years I lived in the DC area--but I'm rather liking it.

The joy of a glorious sunset

I have had a fascination with sunrises and sunsets for much of my adult life. Maybe it stems from being a painter in my younger years, maybe it's the love of nature instilled in me as a child or maybe it's just because they're pretty. Lately, I have taken quite a few pictures of the sunset near where I live. A local company even asked to use this matted one on its website.

I never consciously think "Oh, it's about time for sunset; let me go see." What happens is that I will be walking from one part of my condo to the other and I'll catch a glimpse of color out of a window. I stop long enough to think about whether I'm wearing appropriate clothing to go outside in (because I often sit around the house in garb that is not appropriate to go outside in), then grab the camera and run out the door. Unfortunately, by the time I clear my building and get far enough down the street to get a good shot, most of the light and the best color of the sunset is gone, but I've still been able to get some nice shots.

Back when I was a regular visitor to this area and not yet a resident, I used to love to go to Lake Gerar (what I call "the pond") and write poetry or journal. For years, my favorite sunset picture was this one that I took there. The thing I loved about the pond is that it, though it was just steps from the beach, while you were sitting there soaking up the peace of the place, it felt like some sort of private retreat.

This one was taken from the patio of my apartment in Alexandria, VA where I lived for many years. I still get a little homesick when I see that skyline--I saw it daily for 32 years!

The one on the right was taken on Amelia Island in Florida at the fishing pier near Brett's Waterway Cafe, an excellent restaurant where I had my birthday dinner in 2006.

I am a big fan of the website Flickr (http://www.flickr.com/), a free photo-sharing website. You can go on there and search for just about any thing or any place in the world and find that someone has taken pictures of it. There are some amazingly talented photographers on Flickr. However, one trend in photography that I see there a lot which saddens me is all the digital trickery that is performed on photographs to make them look extra special, extra vivid, extra colorful, etc. To me, they end up looking surreal and, while they are often beautiful, they also look fake. I hate to get all sappy here, but I think God does a pretty good job of making sunsets (and just about everything else) beautiful without having to fiddle with it. As a result, none of my sunset photos are digitally enhanced in any way. I like to remember the real thing--the way I saw it with my own eyes. That's pretty special all by itself.