Road in Retirement

    I choose to be a victor. I've had my fair share of negative thing happen in my life, but I refuse to let them define me.  I embrace the hardships I've endured as they have shaped me into who I am today. It's easy to lament your life, but instead, I challenge you to look for the good in negative situations .     Growing up, I thought everyone's home was dysfunctional. Then I met my Chris, who eventually became my husband.. He grew up in "Leave-It-to-Beaver" land, and let's just say I didn't. My childhood was filled with bad events, including the passing of my dad. Things didn't improve much in high school. Then I escaped to college. Suffice it to say, I could relate to the students in my school because I lived a life like them. I grew up in a negative environment that taught me a lot.     One of my favorite sayings I told my students regularly was it didn't matter how they were reared. They could grow up in the most abusive environments, bu

  One thing I'm doing by myself these days is working out. The Y does have exercise machines I can use, but they also offer classes. Some of the classes are specifically for people with Parkinson's. To anyone with an observing eye, these classes are easy. But for someone with Parkinson's, they are difficult, indeed.     My goal in going to the Y is to regain some mobility. It's pathetic to think how much ground I've lost to this disease. But I  am determined to improve. I've only been going for a couple weeks, but I can see improvements.They may only be noticeable to me, but I'll take it. It gives me hope and that's what I need.     The guy in charge of the program at the Y  has little truisms he likes to say. One of them is exercise is medicine. I believe that wholeheartedly. Sleep for people with PD can be elusive. For years I'd get by on three to four hours of sleep. I'd wake about 2 AM and go to my gym where I'd do seventy  minutes on an 

     I'm retired. Whether I want to be or not, the reality is I'm done. Parkinson's didn't ask me if it was a convenient time for me to retire, it just moved me out. For the past couple of years, PD has been slowly gaining ground in my life. After the school day was done, so was I. I couldn't look at another project or grade another paper. It was all I could to get up in the morning.     When my time to step down came, it punched me in the gut. Even though it was what I wanted, it wasn't how I wanted it. I would be leaving a school I loved and students with whom I connected.      I knew my life wasn't over.  But suddenly I felt at odds with myself.  I'd look in the mirror and wonder what someone like me could do. How could I give back?  What did I want to do? What could I do?       I went on sick leave in March, effectively ending my career as a teacher. A career embarked on not because I wanted to mold the minds of future generations. No, it was more pr

      Fifteen years. A decade and a half. For me, it seems like a lifetime.      About fifteen years ago I went on my first bike trip. It was with a group of eleven other people who shared a love of biking.  At that time, we rode 40-50 miles a day. A group of twelve acquaintances melded into friendships because of a bike. Our friendships grew beyond the biking trail to where they are at today. They have become my closest friends. The long hours on the bike trails, initially for me anyway, started in small talk. My motto was don't let anyone get too close.     But the longer we rode, the more we shared, One pedal at a time, our friendships grew roots. Soon, we were making our own memories: celebrating birthdays, going to Twins games, and just hanging out. Off the trails, the friendships deepened. We shared highs and lows--wedding celebrations of our kids and funeral services of our parents. The small talk morphed into sharing our later life hopes and dreams, our struggles spirituall

    Death and life are in the power of the tongue the Bible tells us in the book of Proverbs. Or in the power of the keyboard, in my world. I had a whole blog post done about the importance of words, detailing an encounter that my husband had with someone who was downright rude, saying unkind things to him about me. I composed in my mind for days, and then I wrote my tirade, the poisoned post last night. I showed her, going on about how important words were and how what you said matters.  I smugly wrote  my self-righteous post, congratulating myself on using words to teach her a lesson.     M y pastor's sermon was the first clarion call against publishing my missive. Do my words set me apart? Does my life show the characteristics of God? When I thought of my words, I had to admit they did not. My words showed a pettiness and an agenda rooted in revenge,     The more I thought about the blog post, the more convinced I became that death was in those words. I felt better after writing

               This is my printer. Take a good look at  it. It's a nice printer, but it's not long for this world. I reached my breaking point with it yesterday. I had to print over 500 pages. Naturally with that volume of printing, the machine will need an ink change.      My printer transformed from a docile, compliant machine into an evil beast. That's right. I called it an evil beast. Yesterday my word choice varied and escalated. Let your imagination fill in the blanks...     Anyway, I digress. We were symbiotic. Working well together and just buzzing through the pages until the ink ran out. What normally was a five-minute max task, evolved into an hour of frustration. Little cartridge in little slot. People with PD don't do too well with anything little.      So there I toiled for an hour. Until the battle was over. I capitulated. The evil, little beast had won. How was I going to finish printing off 500 pages? The evil beast sat there with a smug look, triumphant

   It took me awhile, but I finally figured out how to put a subscribe button on this blog. So feel free, subscribe. Ask others to subscribe. Get your neighborhoods subscribing... No? Okay, maybe that's a bit much. Just subscribe, okay?

      Traveling with Parkinson's isn't easy. There are all kinds of things to consider, accessibly-wise.  However, we threw caution to the wind  and decided to head for a spot we'd always wanted visit since moving to North Dakota. Banff National Park in Canada. It was only a mere seventeen hours away, practically in our backyard!     We packed the car with the necessary items, including my  scooter, Having looked into the accessibility issue, we knew there were lots of paved paths on which I could use  my scooter.      Banff didn't disappoint. The vistas were beautiful. When we thought we'd seen the most amazing sight, we'd turn the corner and beheld more of God's handiwork. It left us speechless. And the paths? Accessible but bumpy. For the most part, I was able to get around quite well.We even took the gondola to the top of Sulfur Mountain. Workers stopped the gondola and put a ramp down which allowed me to drive my scooter inside the lift. They did the sa

      "You should write a blog," my sister said. "You could write about life in retirement."       So welcome to my life. It won't be fluffy writing about all the great things retirement has to offer. Instead this will be a real look at retirement through the eyes of someone who didn't really want to retire. Parkinson's Disease (PD) forced me into an early retirement.      I will be writing about what takes up most of my time--dealing with PD. But I don't want this to be a "woe is me" outlet. My desire is to cover a myriad of topics, including, but not limited to, Parkinson's.        So join me as I travel down the road in retirement. You never know what hidden secrets or places of beauty you may discover. Let's explore together!