Retirement Transition - Signs It’s Time to retire

This week it hit home for me that if you pay attention, you’ll see clear signals when it’s time to retire. Here are some that I’ve uncovered.

You know it’s time to retire when:
You come home from work following an afternoon snowstorm to find that one of your neighbors shoveled your drive and your walk without your even having to ask. [OMG! We’re now that elderly couple in the neighborhood that everyone feels sorry for.]

You know it’s time to retire when:
The store manager who never offered to carry your 20-pound bag of cat litter to the car wants to know if you need help with a box of Clementines.

You know it’s time to retire when:
The same alarm clock that used to jolt you out of bed the second it went off can no longer rouse you from your sleep enough to provoke you to hit the snooze button. [Maybe it was the wine…]

You know it’s time to retire when:
You look forward to spending some time doing a few loads of laundry and you feel like you’ve won the lottery when all the socks match.

You know it’s time to retire when:
You get excited at the prospect of shredding a stack of paperwork, especially ten-year-old tax returns. [And older.]

You know it’s time to retire when:
Two out of three messages on your answering machine are prescription pick-up reminders for you or your spouse. [Don’t you just love that auto-refill service?]

You know it’s time to retire when:
Your computer calendar has more doctors’ appointments on it than business meetings. [Like mine next week.]

And finally, you know it’s time to retire when:
The progression of what you wear in winter goes (for women) from just a bra under your top, to an undershirt over your bra, to just an undershirt. [“Perky” has lost its appeal, especially in cold weather.] And (for men) from a dress shirt and tie to a sweater vest over a sport shirt to a plaid flannel shirt over thermal underwear.

If you recognize three of more of these signs in your own life, you should be a regular follower of Retirement Sparks, because your own retirement can’t be far over the horizon. I’ve seen all the signs, so I shall lead the way into that mysterious black rabbit hole. If you don’t keep hearing from me via regular blog posts, send reinforcements.

On second thought, send chocolate. And wine, of course.

Retirement Transitions - More on the New Zodiac

Those of you who read my last post and were worried about whether my husband and I would still be compatible under the revised Zodiac can rest easy. I looked up Leo and Sagittarius in Linda Goodman’s Love Signs. Best I can tell, we’re as well-suited to each other as a lioness and an archer as we were when I was the virgin and he was the goat. That is to say, not the best astrological match, but once we understand one another’s quirks, we can work things out if we’re willing to put in some effort.

This is a good thing, not just because it means I won’t have to go looking for a new partner as I retire, and hence dealing with yet more change in my life. You may recall that I was worried that the stars would point toward a pairing of Leo with that new sign, Ophiuchus, and I’ve uncovered some disturbing qualities about Ophiuchus.

Ophiuchi are known to be doctors (the caduceus, or medical staff, is based on their serpent.) They’re also supposedly good interpreters of dreams and have vivid premonitions. In my book, that combination spells “shrink.” Given how weird my dreams have been lately, I’m not sure it would be a good idea to have someone else poking around in them looking for meaning.

Supposedly Ophiuchi are flamboyant dressers and are drawn to bright colors, especially plaids. (Go figure.) They’re described as eccentric and quirky, but I blame that on the flamboyant plaids, especially for males of this sign. They’ve also been called fun-loving, with magnetic personalities, but I’m guessing it’s those plaids again that draw the crowds around them. Or it could be that lyre they’re always plunking away on.

My sleuthing has uncovered another little known trait of this new Zodiac sign. Turns out, they have an unhealthy attraction to their parent of the opposite sex. Bad things have been known to happen, especially to fathers of male Ophiuchi, who (ironically) are supposedly favored by their dads (and other authority figures.) In yet another display of irony, Ophiuchi dislike authority and regulations. In other words, they are generally members of the Tea Party.

There seem to be a lot of contradictions surrounding those born under this new sign. On the one hand, they’re credited with having a lot of creativity, imagination and curiosity. On the other, they’re supposedly lazy and prone to procrastination. Likewise, though fun-loving, they’re also described as prone to bouts of depression. Some fun. Maybe they should pair with one another, so they could deconstruct each other’s dreams to figure out why they’re in the dumps.

Which brings me to the two absolute deal breakers as far as pairing me with an Ophiuchus. They’re not big on monogamous relationships. The last thing I need as I drift off into retirement is a philandering partner. If I didn’t actually kill him, I’d certainly dream about it. And the wine bills would bankrupt me.

And finally, Ophiuchi dislike irrelevant and trivial information. Here I stand, the master of the trivial, the lover of a meandering stroll down a side path of irrelevant recollection. No, I could never abide a partner from that Zodiac sign. Give me my new Sagittarius (or my old Capricorn.) I’m more than willing to put in the effort to keep it working with him, quirks and all.

Retirement Transitions - Too Many Changes

I’m expecting a lot of changes to come along with retirement, but this past week or so has been flooded with changes that have nothing to do with my impending transition. It’s just too much to wrap my brain around all at once.

Watching Live with Regis and Kelly was not top of the list of things I planned to do once I’ll be home during the day. But this week, Regis Philbin announced he’s stepping down from his co-hosting spot of about ninety years. This on top of Oprah shutting down her show has me worried that there may be nothing left on daytime TV about which I can feel smug for not watching.

Then there’s the new size drink that Starbucks is offering. It’s called a Trenta and it’s 31 ounces, or 50 percent bigger than their previous mouthful, the Venti. I’m not a coffee drinker, but I occasionally have a cup of tea at Starbucks. It took me several trips to figure out the Venti, but now it sounds like the Trenta may be a good size for iced tea. Meanwhile, rumor has it that they are about to introduce yet another size, to commemorate all the baby boomers who will soon be retiring. This new 65-ounce drink will be called the Sessanta, but it will be nicknamed the “bladder buster.” Can’t wait.

The ultimate blow however, is the news that I am no longer a Virgo. Yup. Some astronomer in Minnesota pointed out that since the signs of the Zodiac were based on the earth’s relationship to the sun, they went out of whack hundreds of years ago. It has something to do with the earth’s orbit around the sun changing slightly every year. The proposed new Zodiac would make me a Leo, not quite on the cusp of Virgo. This is very upsetting to me, as I’ve always recognized myself as a classic Virgo. Much as I love felines, I’m not sure I’ll be comfortable in the skin of a lion. (And no snide comments about my fitting in a virgin’s skin, thank you.)

I shouldn’t really complain. The poor folks born between November 29 and December 17 now have a new sign altogether. It’s called Ophiuchus, which means "the serpent-bearer." The symbol is not at all appealing, but the name sounds positively obscene. And I ask you crossword puzzle fans out there, have you ever done a puzzle that had Ophiuchus as the answer to “constellation around the celestial equator?”

What could be a problem, though, is that my husband is now smack in the middle of Sagittarius. I have no idea if that sign is compatible with Leo. We had our charts cast before we married, to make sure we were well-suited to one another. All boded well for the union of a Virgo and a Capricorn. I guess we’ll have to get our charts redone to make sure we should stay together after 19 years.

My optimistic self says we’re probably still well-aligned. But given all the upheaval from this week, it would be just my luck to find out I should be spending my time with an Ophiuchus. The one-time virgin matched with a man with a serpent… Talk about Freudian symbolism. That prospect calls for a fresh bottle of wine…

Retirement Planning – Things I Won’t Be Doing

My original plans had me retiring at the end of last year. Yesterday, I drove to work during a winter storm and drove home in flooding rains, thinking: “This is exactly what I was looking forward to NOT doing once I retired.” That of course had me thinking more broadly that retirement planning involves not just deciding what I want to do when I stop working full time, but also what I don’t want to do.

Top on the list (even before yesterday) is that I don’t want to have to get out of bed on mornings when winter storms are raging and the walk is no longer visible and the cars need scraping. I want to grab the nearest cat and cuddle. I don’t want to worry about whether I’ll be able to dig out in time to make an 8:30 AM meeting.

I don’t want to have to make the next day’s lunches the night before, especially when I’m really tired. I don’t want to feel guilty when we open the refrigerator in the morning, lunch totes in hand, and discover I never made sandwiches the night before.

I also do not want to do my grocery shopping on the weekends, when everyone else is in the market and the only cart I can find has at least one wheel that refuses to roll. Or it has a large plastic automobile mounted on the front, waiting for a toddler to drive it.

It would be nice to be able to forget about wearing pantyhose except on occasions when I’ll be doing something I really want to dress up for. Which means not very often, I suspect. Yes, I’ll keep a few of my business suits with the pencil skirts, just in case, but only because of Murphy’s law.

I don’t want to say “no” to joining committees and going to events that interest me but I don’t have time for and “yes” to ones that I don’t care about, but that are politically correct for my job.

I don’t want to have to tell my friends that I can’t have dinner with them next Wednesday night even though my calendar is free, because I have a full schedule on Thursday, so I’ll need to get to bed early.

I don’t want to have to spend Sunday night dying my roots when the gray is just slightly visible but I have a meeting the next week where I don’t want to look my age. The gray needs coloring soon enough without pushing the schedule. Now that I think about it, I don’t want to have to attend any meetings where I care if I look my age.

Simply put: I wanted to be a spoiled, rotten, petulant adult. I don’t want to have to do anything unless I choose to do it. So there.

Retirement Lessons – Phishing and More

Most of you have heard the term “phishing,” a criminal activity wherein the source deliberately mimics (or “spoofs”) the look of legitimate enterprises in an attempt to get you to give up personal information that they then use for illegal purposes. You may know that retirees are especially subject to these attacks.

I guess phishers think that people who have reached retirement age lose their common sense at the same time they lose their paychecks. Or perhaps that their visual acuity has declined to the point that they won’t notice that the logo for their bank has suddenly changed from red and blue to orange and purple. Or that their ability to process language has atrophied so much that it won’t register when a singular subject has a plural verb, or other glaring grammar errors abound.

Phishing is generally done via email, which affords the opportunity to create a convincingly authentic looking message. (Spoofy, isn’t it?) There are many legitimate websites that will give you pointers about how to avoid being phished and tell you what to do if you smell something phishy. Here are just three:
http://www.microsoft.com/protect/fraud/phishing/symptoms.aspx
http://www.antiphishing.org/
http://www.onguardonline.gov/topics/phishing.aspx

Today I want to warn you about related schemes, so that you can be vigilant and protect yourselves against them, too. (The onguardonline site listed above covers some of these.) It’s our duty as vibrant retirees (or soon to be, or those who aspire to be…) to put the lie to these stereotypes.

“Smishing” is similar to phishing, but it’s done over mobile devices that use SMS (Short Message Service). [I am not making this up.] It relies on what is commonly referred to as social engineering. This is ironic, since smishing is clearly an anti-social behavior. [Side note to anyone who has heard of Snookie and the Jersey Shore gang, smishing is not the same as smooshing. Google that one, if you dare. If you want to smoosh, go for it.]

Since SMS was created for short messages, legitimate users employ all sorts of abbreviations and acronyms. This makes it more difficult to detect the grammar errors made by smishers that can be so obvious in phishing. My best advice on how to avoid being smished is to steer clear of SMS in the first place. Absent that, I’d create a secret code word that people you want to SMS with must use before you ack them. Here’s one that’s not likely to show up randomly (or in the Jersey Shore lexicon, BTW): “civility.”

Next on the list is “vishing,” which is phone based and usually relies on VOIP technology (Voice Over Internet Protocol.) [I am not making this up either.] Using VOIP means the communication is computer-based, providing the same ability to mimic legitimate business contacts as phishing does. If your extended family communicates with you over SKYPE, for instance, you could be the target of a vicious vishing attack. So beware. The good news is that the same secret code you use with SMS can help you distinguish genuine well wishers from bad vishers with evil intentions.

All of this puts me in mind of the first generation of stealth communication, which was popular two to three decades ago. It involved people calling you at home claiming to be market researchers but really having ulterior motives. Legitimate market researchers were steadfastly committed to, but unsuccessful in, eradicating this bogus activity.

The first of these was called SUGging. (I kid you not.) SUGging stands for “Selling Under the Guise of” conducting market research. You’d get a call from a group conducting market research on some topic. The first few questions sounded legitimate, and the next thing you knew—wham! You were on the receiving end of an aggressive sales pitch for a product coincidentally related to the “research” being conducted.

SUGging was so successful that FRUGging soon followed. (Again, not my acronym, but if you like smooshing, you probably have raunchy thoughts when you hear “frugging.”) “FRUGging” stands for “Fund Raising Under the Guise of” conducting market research. Same type of call, claiming to be conducting research on some pressing social issue. Same initial reasonable questions. Same wham! leading to a request for a contribution to a group whose mission was miraculously aligned to the issue being researched.

You don’t hear much about sugging and frugging these days, probably because of the “do not call” registry. Maybe pressures will come to bear that will result in “do not phish, smish or vish” registries, too. One can only wish.

Retirement Planning – Warnings and Contraindications

We’re all familiar with the warnings and contraindications that come with various prescription drugs. They’re required disclosures in TV ads. Some of them are so horrendous-sounding that it makes you wonder who would even consider taking the medications. What disease could be so bad that you’d sign on for bloating and diarrhea to treat it?

I think retirement should come with similar disclosures. It might cause us to think twice before doing it. After paying careful attention to TV ads for meds, I’ve developed a list of proposed language to accompany retirement proposals.

Warning: the loss of regular, sustainable income may lead to hostility and changes in mood. No longer having a place to go to work each day may cause depression and agitation and may lead to unprovoked arguments with anyone who is foolish enough to co-habit with you.

After dramatic change in your daily routine, you may have trouble sleeping and may have unusual dreams. You may also experience bizarre changes in your daytime behavior, such as exercising to Jane Fonda’s workout video while still wearing your pajamas, watching court TV and taking notes, and regularly emailing the co-hosts of The View.

Do not operate heavy machinery if you are angry over the fact that your IRA investments have gone straight down the toilet. Heavy machinery includes automobiles, vacuum cleaners, laundry equipment and coffee makers. In other words, don’t even bother getting out of bed until you calm down.

Concerns over the stability of Social Security may lead to shortness of breath, difficulty thinking, the inability to focus and can inhibit your basic ability to function as a productive member of society. These side effects are usually, but not always, temporary.

Do not retire if you have ever experienced nausea or had even a slight alcohol-induced buzz, if you cannot hold your breath for at least six months, or if you have ever wondered how you were going to pay your long-term-care insurance premium.

If you are considering starting to collect Social Security, tell your doctor if you are taking any medications such as blood thinners, anti-depressants, mood enhancers, multi-vitamins that contain minerals, precious metals or coal tar, supplements such as St. John’s Wort or ginkgo biloba, or if you regularly drink green tea, pomegranate juice or Ovaltine.

Seek immediate medical attention if your retirement presents with any combination of the following symptoms: in-grown toenails, flared nostrils, itchy palms, creaky knees, hot flashes or cold feet.

We can be certain that if retirement came with warnings and contraindications such as these, everyone would give it much more careful thought before jumping in with both feet. And then we’d probably do it anyway. After all, scary disclosures don’t stop us from taking those drugs. At most, they drive us to drink. Come to think of it, that’s not all bad.

Retirement Planning - New Professions

A recent news report stated that many baby boomers are not really retiring when they leave their current jobs. They’re just moving on to new professions. Since I’ve declared New Years to be a time of reflection, this prompted me to think about various professions I considered earlier in life. Perhaps I should try moving on by looking back.

I’ve had four careers, each lasting about ten years. It seems I either max out my growth potential in ten years, or I get so knowledgeable about the job that I get bored and move on. Either way, a ten-year window per job means I should be able to plan on two, or even three, more careers after I retire. While I hope that writing will turn out to be one of them, I’m realistic about the chances of success in that field. Here are some others that really piqued my interest in my youth.

After reading a lavishly-photographed article in National Geographic on the Aztecs, I thought that being an archaeologist would be exciting. Even today, PBS shows that deal with this area are ones that get me to put down the clicker. I wonder, though, if it’s my desire to travel that’s pushing this button. Also, I’m a bit out of shape to be climbing around ruins that are even more decrepit than I am.

Here’s one you’ll love. Around age 11, I thought I had quite literally discovered my vocation, and I very briefly considered becoming a nun. Our local priest, astutely having recognized my rebellious spirit, quickly disabused me of this idea. Looking back on my life, that ship has certainly sailed. No matter how desperate the Catholic Church may be to augment the sisterhood, I will never hear them telling me to “get thee to a nunnery.”

Carpentry was on my radar, too. My father (an engineer by trade) was a licensed electrician and plumber, and he did part-time construction. We were a year-round family in a summer community, and the neighbors’ bungalows always needed work. As a youngster, I would tag along on his weekend projects. In college I took a woodworking class at Rhode Island School of Design. I was so clumsy that I continually ruined my projects just as they were almost finished. I wisely abandoned any idea of working in a shop environment. I have become clumsier with age, and my eyes are far from carpenter-worthy; so, that profession, too, is ruled out for my retirement.

Also at RISD, I started the fashion design program; my aunt was a sewer and I had tried my hand at making a few things. Unfortunately, clumsiness struck again, and I was never able to master the professional sewing machines run by foot pedals. The stitching on my seams, rather than stopping on point, ran on as with a mind of their own, over pockets and into facings. Perhaps newer machines are easier to use, but there’s still the eyesight issue. Fashion design may not be the best choice for me even now.

A related profession that I thought about was interior design. I took the program at the New York School of Interior Design at night. I was one project short of qualifying for my decorator card, when I transferred into marketing at Colgate and my work schedule exploded. It should be easy to finish that project once I retire. People probably don’t use decorators anymore; everyone is into do-it-yourself. But at least I can be clumsy and my eyes shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll put this one on my list of possibilities.

Along the way, I also considered being an attorney, given my argumentative nature and my ability to retain huge amounts of seemingly worthless information. However, if someone knows what buttons to push (and a good opposing attorney would,) I lose my temper (and my focus) easily. If I work behind the scenes, this field is still a possibility. I wonder how long it would take to get a degree in intellectual properties law?

I toyed with becoming a veterinarian, but I get so soppy when I see any animals in pain that I quickly put that notion aside. In harsh winters I shell nuts for the squirrels in case they’re too weak to crack them open. You’ll find a torn cushion on a piece of wicker on our porch. The squirrels are harvesting the stuffing to insulate their nests. There’s not much that's funnier than a squirrel carrying a wad of poly fluff that’s twice the size of his head.

I wonder if those squirrels can use someone to decorate their nests…

Retirement Planning - New Years Confessions

Now that I’ve reached the outskirts of retirement, I feel it makes no sense to declare New Years resolutions. If people my age haven’t managed to eat less, exercise more, quit drinking or stop swearing by now, New Years resolutions aren’t going to make it happen.

I intend to have many more years going forward, but they are few compared to the years I have to look back on. I’ve therefore decided that New Years should be a time for confessions about things past, not false promises about things future. Herewith my confessions going into 2011.

I confess that, despite what you’d think from reading my blog, I do not drink a few bottles of wine each week. It’s more like a bottle or two each month. My sister called me on that one over Christmas. I told her it makes for better reading if I’m more of an imbiber. I do, however, plan to increase my consumption once I retire.

I confess that, even though I attended many parties in my youth where joints were making the rounds, I’ve never smoked marijuana. My eye doctor just told me that he suspects I have the beginnings of glaucoma; my mother had it, and it’s hereditary. A friend told me to look on the brighter side. Glaucoma will qualify me for medical marijuana. Maybe I’ll turn into a pothead yet. I do own a lot of tie-dye.

When we were snowed in recently, I happened upon part one of the 2006 BBC version of Jane Eyre on PBS. I thought I’d read the book, but apparently not. I found the actor who played Rochester to be so sexy that I had to take two of my blood pressure pills that night. The next day I Googled the program in a vain effort to find out when part two will air. Turns out the actor is Toby Stephens, and he has quite a following of swooning women on FaceBook. I confess that I just ordered the Jane Eyre DVD and I’m justifying the expense as philanthropic support of public television.

I’m a cheese-a-holic. I’ve rarely met a cheese I don’t like, but I’m especially fond of the saltier types, like Gruyere. And anything made of goat’s milk, especially Gjetost; you can’t beat Ski Queen in the red wrapper. I refuse to pay more than $16.99 per pound for my cheese, however, which means I won’t buy the fabulous Tete de Moine. Besides, you need a special cutter for that. I hope you can still eat cheese if you have glaucoma.

I have on occasion shopped at WalMart. It pained me to do it, but they are the only place where I’ve found those net sacks that keep one’s delicates under control in the washing machine. Surely I can’t be expected to live with out-of-control delicates.

IKEA announced that next week it will stop selling old-fashioned incandescent light bulbs, making it the first major retailer to do so. Per the 2007 Energy Independence and Security Act, 100-watt incandescents are banned beginning in 2012 and 60- and 40-watt ones in 2014. I confess I’m clumsy. I dropped one of those new fluorescent bulbs as I was perched atop a step stool, trying to screw it into a recessed ceiling fixture. It took half a roll of sticky tape to pick up all the slivers of shattered glass. I have several old lamps with clip-on style shades that cannot accommodate the new helix bulbs. Despite my initial good intentions, I confess that I’m hoarding the old style bulbs, and I don’t care if I have to go to WalMart to find them.

Well, I feel much better. My conscience is clear—for now. I know I haven’t made a bunch of promises I probably won’t keep. How about all of you?

Retirement Planning – Happy New Year Birthday Boomers

In celebration of this august holiday, today’s post will be brief. I wish all of the readers of RetirementSparks a happy, healthy and safe New Year.

In our household, January 1 also marks the celebration of my husband’s birthday, though the day is spent much like every other one. That is, we have breakfast together and he goes off to his beloved retail store, though perhaps a tad later than usual.

But this year, we should take note of some other significant birthdays to be celebrated. On New Year’s Day, the oldest members of the Baby Boom Generation turn 65, the age that used to signal “full retirement.” So, in addition to my New Year message, I have a special birthday message for the leading-edge baby boomers.

(Cue The Tune Weavers) “Happy, Happy Birthday Baby (boomer), although you're with somebody new, I wish you’d read my blog each week, ‘cause there’s 79 million of you."

Hey, if you don’t ask, you don’t get.

Happy New Year!