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Category: š£ Lake Life
Living full time at the lake ā kayaking, watching the water, dealing with geese, and enjoying the quiet moments.
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I Confess… I Did This To Myself
Turns out “retired together” is not the same retirement.
Iāve made mistakes before.
Big ones.
But none of them stared me in the face all day.
Okay… I may have pushed my husband to retire.
I did this to myself.
Completely.
I’ve been retired – well, semi-retired – for over a year now.
By semi-retired, I mean I work from home… in my pajamas… on my own schedule.
It’s a very civilized system.
I earn a little extra money when I feel like it.
And when I don’t feel like it – I simply don’t.
During the last two months of chemo, I took exactly zero assignments.
Turns out chemo brain and legal drafting are not a winning combination.
But overall, I’ve really enjoyed this semi-retired lifestyle (minus the chemo option.)
So much, in fact, that I decided my husband needed to retire too.
He was terribly stressed out.
Which is understandable.
A wife on chemo and a fast-paced, time-draining job he loved would give any man gray hair at an alarming rate.
If the man had hair.
Mine does not.
So in the way that good wives often do, I patiently helped him realize that it was completely his own idea to leave the rat race and come home to enjoy the good life.
And for the first few days?
It was lovely.
I would walk past him sleeping in his chair in the middle of the afternoon and smile.
Look at him, finally resting.
What a thoughtful wife I am.
Then he woke up.
After a few days of rest and observation, he apparently came to the conclusion that I had somehow lost the ability to perform basic household tasks without his expert insight into:
ā¢ best practices
ā¢ improved efficiency
ā¢ and the optimal dishwasher loading strategyIn fairness, he really was just trying to help.
No one asked him to.
But still.
Turns out “retired together” is not the same retirement.
This guidance was provided daily.
Sometimes hourly.
Occasionally continuously.
Clearly, I needed to fix this.
So, being the supportive wife that I am,
I once again helped him arrive at a brilliant idea that was entirely his own.
He needed a different version of semi-retirement.
One where he could apply all those negotiation skills and efficiency strategies somewhere other than my kitchen.
Once he came up with that idea on his own, he really ran with it.
He did research.
He made a proposal.
He negotiated terms.
And just like that, he created a position that allows him to work:
from home
in his pajamas
on his own scheduleWhat a genius.
He does have to go to the work site one day a week.
And Iām not saying I look forward to those daysā¦
ā¦but I have noticed the coffee tastes better,
the lake looks calmer,
and retirement feels a lot more like mine again.
If you’re still smiling, come back and stay awhile.
Pull up a chair on the deck. We’ll raise a glass – or two.
–Pattie
The water’s sparkling, the dog has opinions… and this Third Act is just getting started.
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Quietly Judging…at the No-Judgment Gym
I made a decision.
A grown-up decision.
A responsible, health-oriented decision.I decided to join the gym.
Let me be very clear about something.
I hate the gym.
The gym and I have a long-standing policy: mutual avoidance.
At best, we coexist on the same planet.
I am a 4ā10ā, short, round, senior woman.
I do not look like the gym loves me.
I do not look like I love the gym.But this is the Third Act.
And in the Third Act, apparently,
we make mature decisions like this.
So I went to the āNo Judgmentā gym.
Have you ever been there?
Because I can assure youā
people are judging.Okay, fine.
It was me.
I am people.
That said, there were quite a few seniors there, which helped.
There were also quite a few young people.
And while I was not judging
(I was absolutely observing),I noticed something important:
The young people were in far better physical shape.
But the seniors?
They were having way more fun.
They talked to each other.
About working out.
About hating it.
About the weather.Possibly about grandchildren, medications,
and who had knee surgery last year.I didnāt catch everything,
but I feel confident in those topics.I also noticed something else.
People with very real physical challenges
still showing up.Still moving.
Still trying.Not to impress anyone.
Justā¦ showing up.
And I found myself unexpectedly inspired by that.
My first visit?
Fifteen minutes on the treadmill.
I went home like I had metaled in an Olympic event
and should be met with applause and possibly snacks.Now?
Iāve advanced.
Fifteen minutes on the recumbent elliptical.
Fifteen minutes on the recumbent bike.That is a full thirty minutes
of mild sufferingand excellent people-watching.
I plan to add more.
Machines.
Maybe even weights.Eventually.
Right now, the lingering effects of chemo
are still living rent-free in my muscles and back.So we areā¦ negotiating.
Hereās the truth:
I am slow.
I sweat a lot.
I have absolutely no speed on any machine.And no one has spoken to me yet.
I’,m shocked too. Honestly.
To be fair, I donāt always look like someone you should approach.
But still.
But hereās the part I didnāt expect:
Itās helping.
I feel a little stronger.
A little steadier.
A little more like myself again.
So despite everythingā
my official Third Act recommendation is this:
Just do it.
(I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere before…)
Slowly.
Reluctantly.
Judging quietly.
But do it anyway.
Because sometimes showing up is the win.
-Pattie
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Thereās Quietā¦ and Then Thereās Lake Quiet
The town where our city house sits isā¦ small.
Not one-red-light smallā¦
But everybody-knows-your-business-if-you-leave-the-trash-can-out-too-long small.
Most people wouldnāt call it a city house.
Itās a quiet little town.
A sleepy town.
A town where sirens are the exceptionā¦
not the rule.On warm summer nights,
you can hear the crickets.When I say itās quiet hereā
can you picture it?Because I can.
Itās the kind of quiet that settles in around you.
Predictable.
Comfortable.
The kind of quiet that knows your name.
But at the lakeā¦
itās a different quiet.
We live at the end of the road.
And I mean the end.If you donāt stop,
youāll be in the lake.Thereās no passing traffic.
No headlights sweeping the windows.
No late-night somebody-driving-home noise.Just water.
Wind.
And whatever decides to speak up in the dark.You can hear things here.
The soft plop of a fish jumping
from somewhere across the lake.The low, steady buzz of mosquitoes
that always seem closer than they are.The sudden flap of wings
as a blue heron lifts off and disappears into the trees.And sometimesā¦
voices.Just whispers of conversation
carrying across the water,
drifting farther than they should.At the lake, the quiet isnāt tucked in.
Itās wide open quiet.
It stretches out across the waterā¦
and comes right back at you.Sometimes itās so still
it feels like the whole world is holding its breath.And sometimesā¦
itās not quiet at all.
Even when it feels completely stillā¦
it isnāt.
And somewhere out there, between the crickets and the water,
Iām starting to understand the difference.If you know wide open quiet, you’ll fit right in…
come back and stay awhile.
Pull up a chair on the deck. We’ll raise a glass – or two.
–Pattie
The water’s sparkling, the dog has opinions… and this Third Act is just getting started.
If you made it this far, weāre basically friends.
No spam. No nonsense. Just stories.
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Still Nobody Asked Me
šA Sassy Says Post
I have concerns.
Serious concerns.
Let me explain.
Do we live in the city house?
Do we live at the lake?
Because apparently..
we live in two houses now.
There are three people in this household.Three.
And somehow, still nobody asked me.
I have thoughts.
Important and strategic thoughts.
No one asked for them. But here we are.
For example.
I like the city house.
It’s big.
It has excellent laying-down spots.
And I have my own section of the couch.
Thatās why they call it a sectional.
I donāt make the rules.
Now…
I donāt hate the lake house.
But it has a lot of steps.
Mama says Iām fast on the steps because I have four legs.
That is not how this works.
Four legs is twice the effort.
Also, while Mama had that āCā disease, I had responsibilities.
I had to make sure she ate.
Snacks.
Lots of snacks.
To prove they were safe, I sampled them first.
Repeatedly.
I sacrificed myself.
Because, after all, I am a very good girl.
And yes… I may have gained a little weight.Those steps areā¦ less friendly when you are generously nourished.
Now let’s talk yards.
The city house has a fenced backyard.
A secure back yard.
The kind where a girl can nap in the sun without worrying about creepy things sneaking up on her.
The lake house?
No fence.
And it has those creepy blue birds
They Swoop down…
….and then WALK ON WATER.
Explain that.
Also –
The city house has two perfect pillows on my couch section.
Excellent for bone hiding.
The lake house?
No proper bone storage system.
Althoughā¦
I have identified a chair nobody sits in.
That may work.
Now, here is something interesting.
At the city house, Daddy is gone all day.
At the lake hosue…
He is here all the time.
I am not saying that matters.
But I am also not not saying that.
And….
The lake house does have a very nice deck.
Mama drinks her coffee there.
We watch the ducks in the morning
In the afternoon, we watch the boats.
It’s a very strong observation position.
Also important –
The lake house has lots of doors and windows.
Excellent for surveillance
The city house?
Very poor viewing situation.
So.
After careful consideration…
(and one very serious bone session)
I have made a decision
The lake house will be acceptable.
Possibly even good.
But let the record show –
this was not a group decision.
ā Sassy The Wonderdog š¾Still waiting to be included in major decisions…
Subscribe for updates.
I will allow it. āSassy
Third Act With Pattie 