Retirement Transitions – Finding Stable Friends

One of the challenges of retirement is finding new friends if you relocate. You might think this is not an issue for people who are reasonably outgoing. That depends on one’s expectations for those new friends.

A few years back I titled the “Philosophy Corner” in my newsletter “I’m Sorry If I Made You Fat.” I’d recently read the results of a study showing that if the people in your social circle were overweight, it was more likely you’d be, too. Now I’ve read an interview with a Brown professor who claims that the same is true about divorce. Simply put, if you want to stay married, pay close attention to the stability of the relationships of those around you.

So, in addition to looking for new friends with a sense of humor, reasonable intelligence and a taste for ethnic cuisine, we’ll need to screen them for signs of a deteriorating relationship. I’ve come up with a handful of criteria that I believe will provide early warning signs that a partnership is doomed.

An obvious indication that things are not on solid ground: one of them has a divorce attorney on speed dial. If their prenuptial agreement is more than ten pages long, you can be pretty sure someone already had an exit strategy before walking down the aisle. They may as well have said “I do-ish” or “I might.” Call me a skeptic, but I think a marriage is iffy for long term if either of the parties is on their third marriage. I know, I know. “Third time’s the charm.” But that can be said for divorce, too.

My screening criteria include some behavioral-based observations about long-term compatibility. For example, if one of them listens to NPR daily and the other shops regularly at WalMart, don’t expect to be re-gifting that silver plated fruit basket you have for their twenty-fifth anniversary. Ditto when one of them is vegan and the other has a lifelong love affair with marbled red meat. There is no room for compromise in those diets, and a meat cleaver will out maneuver a potato peeler any day.

Other signs of impending disintegration come with a retirement that required downsizing. Keep an eye out for trouble if they used to have separate bathrooms, but now they have to share one. Based on my personal experience, I’d give that couple a wide berth. One sign that you probably never considered: they retired to a condominium, but he refuses to give up his riding mower. One day, he’ll head over yonder ridge and just keep going. You can afford a lot of gas for a mower, even at today’s prices.

These criteria should help Jagdish and me weed out most of the potential new friends who could exert a negative influence on our marriage. What worries me more is if the ones who pass our test are conducting the same type of screening on us. I can hear them now. “He seems nice enough, really mellow. But she’s a bit intense, don’t you think? How much longer do you figure they’ll stay together?”

Or maybe: “He doesn’t seem to give much thought to planning things, and she’s obsessive about every detail—a classic Virgo. They’ll never last.” “Didn’t he say he’s allergic to most wine? But she sure seems to enjoy the fruit of the vine. Let’s steer clear of that pair.”

So much for finding stable friends when we relocate. Now, where did I put that cork screw…

Retirement Thanks – Things I’m Grateful For

As tomorrow is Thanksgiving, it seems appropriate for this post to celebrate some of the things for which I am grateful as I approach retirement.

10. I’m grateful for 3.25 magnifiers at the dollar stores. (Next year I’ll probably be grateful for 3.5.)

9. I’m grateful that my best friend from seventh grade and good friends from high school summers found me on FaceBook. I’m even more grateful that they think the 5-years (and 15 pounds) old picture on my profile page is what I actually look like now.

8. I’m grateful that the only donut holes I have to worry about today come in Dunkin’s Munchkins boxes.

7. I’m grateful for the yard-long shoehorn that my brother-in-law gave me. I’m not as flexible as I used to be, but I’m still too young for Velcro shoes.

6. I’m grateful that when I was downsized out of a Fortune 500 company in the late eighties after 17 years with them, I was not allowed to take my pension money with me. (I love having that third leg on my retirement stool. It would have been sawdust years ago if I’d had control of it.)

5. I’m grateful for all of you who read my RetirementSparks blog and especially for those of you who let me know you’ve read it. (Hits good. Feedback even better!)

4. With two aging cats with over-active bladders, I’m grateful for the invention of clumping litter. (As I approach retirement, it’s the little things that count.)

3. I’m grateful for being old enough to collect Social Security before the system implodes under the weight of the entire Baby Boomer generation.

2. I’m grateful for living long enough to see retirement. (20 plus years cancer free as I write this.)

And the number one thing for which I am grateful this Thanksgiving:

1. My husband of twenty years. Especially that we’re able to look forward to enjoying our retirement together. (You may want to check back on this one next year, after we’ve had some time to drive each other crazy in our side-by-side retirement bliss…)

Head nod to David Letterman, and best wishes for a safe and Happy Thanksgiving to all of you!

Retirement Projects – Experiments for Idle Hands

Like many folks, I’ve been contemplating how I’ll occupy myself after I retire (besides writing more.) What sort of projects will fill my days of leisure? I think I’ve found the answer. I’m going to conduct freelance science experiments.

A recent New York Times article reported on research into the question “How do cats drink?” It was prompted by the observation that cats drink far more neatly than dogs. I’m a long-time cat lover and owner, but I have not been kept up nights wondering about this. Apparently, a group of engineers has.

Four of them collaborated to conduct experiments to probe this issue. These were no backwater engineers; they work at MIT, VPI and Princeton—or did anyway. Who knows how their institutions will react to their report in Science on cat-lapping.

The team concluded that cats lap by balancing “opposing gravitational and inertial forces.” The tip of the cat’s tongue touches the water surface. Then they pull it up quickly, “drawing a column of water behind it.” There was a lot more information, such as lapping frequency for optimal efficiency relative to the cat’s size, and so on. It was very much the type of data one would expect to see in Science.

The Times article implied that the research was conducted on the scientist’s own time, but we all know what that means. What was clearly stated is that the project required no financing; the robot used in the experiment was “borrowed… from a neighboring lab.”

Although I doubt I have neighbors from who I can borrow robots for my retirement projects, I feel confident I can devise experiments that employ ordinary household materials. The trick will be to find issues to probe that have been overlooked by scientists, but are of burning interest to ordinary people. People who might read my blog.

Here’s one example. Cat owners know there is an irresistible magnetic force between cat hair and their owner’s clothes. We also know that the strength of that attraction increases the more disparate the tone of the cat’s fur and the owner’s attire. A white cat will shed far more hair onto its owner’s black lap than onto her white sweater.

I shall devise an experiment to determine why this happens. I fully expect static electricity to play a role in my research. I’ll also measure whether or not the attraction of black hair to white clothing is equal to its inverse. I can see some of you black-cat owners out there nodding “It most definitely is.” When I’m done, we’ll know for certain.

There may be skeptics among you thinking: “She won’t be able to answer questions like these without a fancy laboratory.” Consider the following account that my nephew shared many years ago. It was one of the winning entries in some contest similar to the Darwin Awards, but for clever inventions.

We know that cats always land on their feet when they fall (or are dropped) from heights. Murphy’s Law also tells us that a piece of buttered toast will always land buttered-side down. The budding inventor who won the competition combined these two pieces of information to devise a perpetual motion machine. Here’s how you build it.

Strap a row of well-buttered toast along the back of large cat. Drop the cat from a substantial height. As it starts to fall, the cat will turn paw-side down so it can land on its feet. The toast will counter by flipping the cat’s back toward the floor, so the toast can land buttered-side down. These two opposing forces will set the cat into a spin that will keep it airborne indefinitely, thus creating a perpetual motion machine.

I rest my case.

Retirement Planning—FDA To Issue Medicare Warnings

You may have heard that the FDA recently unveiled proposed graphic warning labels for cigarette packs. The messages state that cigarettes cause strokes and heart disease, are addictive and cause fatal lung disease. The last message accompanies a photo of a dead body with a toe tag. Another comes with a photo of a corpse in a coffin.

I’ve just learned that the FDA is about to release another group of graphic warning labels—to accompany the Medicare insurance packets that we receive as we approach age 65. If you’re squeamish, you may want to skip this post.

The first label reads: “Warning! Filling out Medicare paperwork may cause you to have a nervous breakdown, requiring you to be restrained.” A photo of a demented-looking man in an old-fashioned straight jacket accompanies the text. He appears to be in a padded room.

Another cautions: “Sorting through Medicare mailings may leave you clawing the walls and furniture.” The photo shows a woman kneeling, with arched back, shredding the arm of an overstuffed sofa. She reminds me of my cat sharpening her claws on the scratching post.

“Take precautions! Initial review of Medicare material has been known to cause the reader to break out in a cold sweat.” The man in the photo sits shivering in a Snuggie blanket. Papers are scattered all around him but he appears incapable of moving from his cocoon.

 “Reviewing your Medicare paperwork may make your hair stand on end. If you are doing this in the winter, beware of static electricity shocks.” The man in the photo clearly did not beware; even the hair on his forearms is at attention. Is that smoke coming out of his ears?

Here’s a good one: “Do not be alarmed by the drool that escapes the sides of your mouth as you prepare your Medicare application. This is a common occurrence.” Maybe so, but the mad-cowlike expression in the companion photo gives me pause. In my extensive experience, no good ever comes from a situation that leaves you slobbering.

My favorite reads: “Danger! Careful reading of Medicare documents may cause you to go berserk and strangle anyone within reach.” This photo is like a caricature of woman in the throes of severe PMS. The unwitting victim is no doubt her spouse, who probably asked when dinner would be ready. If only he had read the warning label.

The last one hits close to home. “Contraindications for Medicare paperwork: Can cause your blood pressure to rise, requiring extra medication and extra paperwork, setting you on a vicious cycle from which you will never recover. Remember Charlie on the MTA?” This is the only photo in color. It’s me, with cheeks so red I look like I’ve just downed a bottle of Chianti.

You have to hand it to the FDA. They really know how to do warning labels. Here’s one for them. “Warning! Creating paperwork that frustrates seniors can be dangerous. Be careful opening mail from strangers.” The photo shows me again. I’m packing up half empty sardine cans, fur balls and other nasty looking stuff. That’s going to be ripe by the time it’s delivered. The mailing label reads: Medicare Administration Offices.

Score one for us retirees.

Retirement Relocation –Ten Things I’m Looking Forward to in Vermont

10. Getting cable TV, since reception without it will probably be limited. We get enough stations in Rhode Island using rabbit ears that I haven’t been able to justify cable.

9. Local health food stores that smell fabulous. With all those crunchy granolas in Vermont, there must be some great stores up there to replace Whole Foods. On a retirement budget, I may only be able to go there to inhale, but I’ll take it.

8. Reliable snow removal no matter how severe the storm is. They know how to do snow in Vermont. In Rhode Island, high school kids come around looking for work when there’s a dusting to a few inches and sleep in when there’s 8 to 12.

7. Sailing on Lake Champlain. That assumes that I meet someone with a boat who finds me entertaining enough to invite me on board. (Maybe this one should read: watching other people sailing on Lake Champlain.)

6. Really clean, fresh air. The good news about Rhode Island: a lot of intersecting Interstates means convenient travel. The bad news about Rhode Island: a lot of intersecting Interstates means lots of exhaust.

5. Watching my grandniece grow up. (She was the micro-preemie who weighed one pound seven ounces.) I see her twice a year now and I feel lucky that she remembers who I am. I want to become her favorite bis zia. (Sorry, Gloria.) Crazy cat lady will also do.

4. Day trips to the city to go shopping. (That means to Montreal, not downtown Burlington.)

3. Spending Thanksgivings with my family again. I just hope Jagdish doesn’t insist on sitting on his store stool at the dinner table.

2. Doing lunch with my sister and my niece. (Remember Goldie Hawn in Private Benjamin, in full military gear, trudging around in the rain? “I just wanna go out to lunch.”) I don’t care about the wearing sandals part, especially since they’d probably be Birkenstocks anyway.

And the number one thing I look forward to when we relocate to Vermont after retirement:

1. Five words: Lake Champlain Chocolates Factory Store.


Head nod to David Letterman.

Retirement Relocation –Ten Things I Won’t Miss When We Move

10. A four-year supply of freebie address labels from dozens of charities. They’ll be obsolete and I know they’ll start arriving again within a year of when we arrive in Vermont.

9. The Starbucks three blocks from our house, because we’re tea drinkers, and because a Google search shows there are at least four Starbucks in the area of Vermont we’ll be moving to.

8. Prophylactic roto-rooting of our sewer line every year. (Oak tree roots, since you asked.)

7. Next-door neighbors who are or have been in litigation with the two other neighbors whose property abuts theirs. (You know it’s just a matter of time…) They’ve already complained about falling branches from (you guessed it) that oak tree.

6. Oak leaves a foot deep in the yard and on the back patio and acorns that turn the front walk into a roller rink every fall. (That’s another reason why the squirrels hang out on our front porch.)

5. Having my fourteen-year-old Honda Accord stolen right out of our garage. It still had a few good years left, but what it didn’t have was comprehensive coverage. Kaching!

4. The view of our neighbor’s yard filled with stuff, and I’m on the “tidier” side. (Yes, it’s the litigious ones.) The only thing they’re missing is the rusted-out chassis of a ’57 Chevy Bel Air.

3. Being the favorite stop for dogs that weren’t ready to do their business at the park at the end of the block, but finally get the urge on their walk home.

2. The unwieldy bar-coded trash barrel that the City of Providence makes us use. We have the small one and it’s still big enough to hold two dead bodies. (This is Providence, after all.)

And the number one thing I won’t miss when we relocate after retirement:

1. The bat that finds it’s way into the house every two years (squirrels good; bats bad.) Though I will miss watching Jagdish chase the bat around the house with a broom.


Head nod to David Letterman.

Retirement Relocation –Ten Things I’ll Miss When We Move

10. My tailor, who knows my left arm is 3/4 inch longer than my right. (It’s from carrying a packed brief case cross town in Manhattan for 15 years.)

9. Six closets for my clothes (plus the walk in cedar closet.) Sigh.

8. Room for an 8 feet tall Christmas tree in our entry hall (plus the 19 inch star on top.) Another sigh.

7. The contractor I found when I chatted him up on the line at the check out at Ocean State Job Lot. For sure we’d better get a condo when we move.

6.  My vet, who doesn’t make fun of me because I get blubbery every time one of my cats has a glitch in their blood work. (Can you say “artifact?” As in: a pricier retest showed that it wasn’t a real problem, just an artifact.)

5. The squirrels that hang out on our front porch and burrow into the stuffing of the pillows on our wicker furniture during rain storms. (And send me scurrying around after the storm to recover the poufs of stuffing that have blown into the neighbors’ yards.)

4. My hairdresser, and not just because he gives me great cuts every time. He’s a transplanted New Yorker, and when he says he’s gong to “the city,” he means Manhattan, not downtown Providence.

3. The jogging path up the center of Blackstone Boulevard, three blocks from our house. It was designed by the Olmstead’s landscape architecture firm. They also did Central Park in Manhattan, the Emerald Ring in Boston and Roger Williams Park in Providence. (And also Swan Point Cemetery, at the end of Blackstone Boulevard. So if you drop dead jogging, they can just roll you across the boulevard to your beautifully landscaped plot.)

2. Four primo ice cream shops within 30 minutes drive (two within 5 minutes.) One is located—you guessed it—at the other end of Blackstone Boulevard. Perfectly positioned for a reward after some exercise.

And the number one thing I’ll miss when we relocate after retirement:

1. Three words: Whole Foods Market. (There are two within a mile and a half of our house—one is within five blocks.) OK. it was a toss up between this and the primo ice cream shops for number one.


Head nod to David Letterman.

Retirement Health Care – Privacy vs. Accessibility

My primary care physician is a partner in a large group practice. I trust him. If I didn’t, I’d change doctors. At my recent check-up, I was given a pamphlet and asked to sign up for an electronic health information network.

Given the litany of health issues I’ve had over the years, I appreciate the benefits of having all my medical information accessible to all the health care providers who might ever need to treat me. But what I read in the fine print in the pamphlet made my hair stand on end. Mice type always makes me skeptical. Seeing more than two paragraphs of it sets off alarm bells. This pamphlet has seven.

My health care life has become complicated enough since Medicare came along. It seems like going electronic could complicate it even more. The mice type starts out innocently enough; paragraph two lays out my HIPA rights. “I understand that health information is protected under federal privacy laws.” Good news. They recognize my right to privacy.

Not exactly. “Providers… that access health information about me… may re-disclose this information to health care providers/organizations… for reasons unrelated to the coordination of my health care and treatment.” Wait a minute. Why would I want my private health laundry aired out for any reasons other than medical ones? Seriously. You might as well say you’ll sell my name for marketing and fund raising purposes. I get enough junk mail already. I don’t need to feed the beast.

If you’re thinking: “That just comes with the territory,” keep reading. It gets even better. “This health information may be re-disclosed to a person or entity that is not… covered by federal privacy regulations, and therefore, is no longer protected by those regulations.”

So let me see if I have this straight. Privacy laws protect health information. However, in order to get better treatment, I need to be OK with giving my health info out to someone who has nothing to do with my treatment. And who, by the way, won’t have to respect my privacy. I’m not surprised to see that behavioral health is one of the areas that might get re-disclosed. I’d have to be certifiable to want to sign up for this.

Wait! Another area that could get disclosed is alcohol abuse. I’ll cop to more than a few glasses of wine a day if that means they’ll tell the local purveyor of spirits that I’m a wino and that gets me an email when Fat Cat Chardonnay is on super sale.

If I work this right, it could actually turn out to my advantage. My mother saw a podiatrist in her later life. I’ll start that now if I can get an occasional free foot massage for those little piggies that go numb when I wear pointy shoes with high heels. (That was never a problem when I was in my prime.) I’ll even spring for a dermatologist if it nets me a jar of high-end fade cream for my age spots. My hands are starting to look like my mother’s and that’s scary.

Hmmm. They also share information on genetic diseases. I’m not sure what all that covers. I know that hypertension runs in my family. I’ve always wanted to try yoga for that. Maybe someone will offer me a discount on classes. Not the yoga with the weird breathing. And not the one that requires even remotely good balance. Just the plain vanilla type where you chant “Om-m-m. Om-m-m. Om-m-m.” (I think that’s Hindi for “I could really go for a glass of Fat Cat right now.”)

Where do I sign?