After these early weeks of New York grief, subzero weather with little cheery snow, an inordinate amount of contract work from my old company, I finally finished the novel I've been working on all year. At 70, I have basically no chance of publishing it, but the thought of not writing another one is yet one more grief. So, I figured out a way of starting a new novel without embarrassment. As I wrote and edited my current one (working title Love After 55), as I dug into the characters and rewound the plot, and imagined weather and rooms, and googled things I didn't know, I discovered how much I loved reading the revisions. In fact, the book became not the one I wanted to write but the one I wanted to read. It almost doesn't matter if others don't like it, or don't read it, or think it's simple-minded and pretentious. I really like it!!! I'm not trying to write anything important or even necessarily thoughtful.
In any case, I have some additional tips on how to settle into retirement outside a small upstate city if one doesn't want to write a novel.
Take non-credit classes at the local communicate college. My choices are "Starting a Food Business", "How to Cook Chicken Milanese (which includes how to cook tiramisu-- the main reason for taking this one-night class), Basket weaving (Seriously. I need a new trash basket in the bathroom).
Join a gym. Have joined Planet Fitness, which is incredibly cheap ($10 a month) has a very well-planned process for building strength using their machines. I've had two orientations, neither of which involved working out, so I was able to feel righteous without having to exert any energy.
Find a local bar/restaurant hangout. Ours is Daba and Helskinki. Unfortunately, the Daba chef-owner is looking to sell his place and start an apple farm, but he's asking a lot of money, so it will take awhile. In the meantime, it's bartender, staff, food, and other hanger outers make it our favorite. We use Helsinki mainly for eating but it also has a nice staff and a great music venue for boomers (Amee Mann, Chris Smithers, Nick Low, and various favorites' offspring, like Amy Helm and one of the Allman kids, who have similar styles to their parents. It also provides dinner that you can eat close to its small stage and good natured fellow audience members.
Buy snowshoes. I already have skis and skates but Michael, cleverly, won't do these things, and the increasing conviction that solitary sports involving feet sliding out from under me suggests I might need some alternatives. So I bought snowshoes for both of us. Had one good day of snow, and we trudged up the hill.
Convince your friends to move up. Have three so far. Am working on others.
Create mass emails inviting others to visit. Be sure to have enough aerobeds.
Thursday, January 16, 2014
Wednesday, January 8, 2014
Living Below Zero
Oddly, it has been this cold streak that has bolstered my intention to be here and leave New York.
Before the holidays, up in Hudson, the weather was dull and mediocre. Sky gray. No snow. Walking was a brown trudge past large sticks known in better times as trees. Temperatures hovered slightly above freezing, and the air was mucky with humidity. The barn's forced-air heat was not enough to battle the chill efficiently, and, because we are now paying for our heat, we keep the thermostat set at degrees well below what I was used to in our over-heated Manhattan apartment. I was cold all the time and shivered continually, reminding myself of an old fridge ice-maker about to break down. At night in bed, I clung to Michael and my cats. I binged on gluten in various forms and took no exercise.
My days were spent working on a major annual project from Medscape, which, after finishing last year, was one of the impetuses (impeti?) for retiring. "Yay, I don't have to do this damn survey and write 600 captions again!" And here it is, supporting not only me but my husband and son as well, who have a contract for designing its hundreds of charts and slides. The work has thousands of annoying details with the potential for riddling errors, and the results are only mildly interesting. Working on a flat fee, my hourly rate quickly dropped to slightly above minimum. I couldn't get back to my novel. None of the things I had planned were working out. I missed my old life.
Then came the holidays with its welcome distractions, parties with old and new neighbors, visits from my nun sister, kids, friends, and lots and lots of better food. And, my very own revelatory Christmas present to myself, an LL Bean flannel nightgown. So when temperatures plummeted in the last few days, blasting frigid air around our inadequately insulated barn apartment -- the Christmas miracle -- I'm not cold. I have learned to clothe myself! I can stretch out in the dark with my nighty. And by extension, I now have learned to layer during the day -- long sleeved shirts and sweaters. When I go out I have finger mittens (everyone should have them), a hooded coat, and scarf. Inspired, by this learned warmth and the more interesting world outside, I am willing to venture out. Also, I'm done with the damn project. I've returned to my novel and expect to finish at the end of the month. I hope to create a few interesting posts. I'm looking at Facebook (maybe that's not such a great idea). And we are talking to some people today about building up here. Slowly, slowly, inching are way out of the city. Maybe.
Before the holidays, up in Hudson, the weather was dull and mediocre. Sky gray. No snow. Walking was a brown trudge past large sticks known in better times as trees. Temperatures hovered slightly above freezing, and the air was mucky with humidity. The barn's forced-air heat was not enough to battle the chill efficiently, and, because we are now paying for our heat, we keep the thermostat set at degrees well below what I was used to in our over-heated Manhattan apartment. I was cold all the time and shivered continually, reminding myself of an old fridge ice-maker about to break down. At night in bed, I clung to Michael and my cats. I binged on gluten in various forms and took no exercise.
My days were spent working on a major annual project from Medscape, which, after finishing last year, was one of the impetuses (impeti?) for retiring. "Yay, I don't have to do this damn survey and write 600 captions again!" And here it is, supporting not only me but my husband and son as well, who have a contract for designing its hundreds of charts and slides. The work has thousands of annoying details with the potential for riddling errors, and the results are only mildly interesting. Working on a flat fee, my hourly rate quickly dropped to slightly above minimum. I couldn't get back to my novel. None of the things I had planned were working out. I missed my old life.
Then came the holidays with its welcome distractions, parties with old and new neighbors, visits from my nun sister, kids, friends, and lots and lots of better food. And, my very own revelatory Christmas present to myself, an LL Bean flannel nightgown. So when temperatures plummeted in the last few days, blasting frigid air around our inadequately insulated barn apartment -- the Christmas miracle -- I'm not cold. I have learned to clothe myself! I can stretch out in the dark with my nighty. And by extension, I now have learned to layer during the day -- long sleeved shirts and sweaters. When I go out I have finger mittens (everyone should have them), a hooded coat, and scarf. Inspired, by this learned warmth and the more interesting world outside, I am willing to venture out. Also, I'm done with the damn project. I've returned to my novel and expect to finish at the end of the month. I hope to create a few interesting posts. I'm looking at Facebook (maybe that's not such a great idea). And we are talking to some people today about building up here. Slowly, slowly, inching are way out of the city. Maybe.
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