Diary of a Mad Househusband

There she goes again. If there's a definition of "retired," Stacey's not it. Yesterday, she substituted at PS 217 for her friend Tamar, who's an art teacher also, and had to be out of work for the day. Then, last night she went to play mah jong with a group of friends. Today she left at 8:30 (this retired man was still sleeping) for Italian lessons at the UFT (her teachers union). Then there's her twice a week job at a Korean school in Bayside, Queens. She's not working(at her old job) but she's sure busy.

Me? I'm not that busy. Don't get me wrong: I'm not bored; I don't feel guilty. I quite enjoy the feeling of not being obligated -- of not having to be somewhere at a particular time. It's very, well, relaxing. I understand that this approach has its dangers. For a while, I was getting up at 10, took an hour or so to get showered, dressed, ready (for what?) By the time I left the house, the day was half gone. In the winter, particularly, that's not great. I was left feeling very unproductive -- not that I'm producing anything.

I quickly modified that "lazy" mode of retirement to a more active approach. That is, rising earlier and moving along more quickly. I get to the gym three times a week: Monday, Wednesday and Friday (I've been quite good about that, rarely missing my workout). Oh yes, Stacey goes to the gym as well -- add that to her busy schedule also.

Back to me: I've been volunteering (irregularly) at , Transportation Alternatives my bicycle-advocacy organization. This Thursday, I'm taking the subway to the ferry and then to Staten Island to meet an old acquaintance, Bob Greenberg, at the Barbaro For Congress headquarters. I'm going to work on Frank Barbaro's campaign for the House seat that he wants to win away from Vito Fosella, a right-wing Republican ally of W.

So, in a relaxed way, I'm picking and choosing a few choice morsels of activity. I guess it's a matter of degree, the difference between Stacey's very full schedule and my more relaxed approach. It seems that as soon as you mention you're retired, the other person always asks, "So what are you doing with yourself?" -- the implication being that you must be doing something on pain of disintegrating into an amorphous blob. Cary and Ted, my friends, have an endless routine of joshing me because I often call them of a mid-morning while sitting sipping an espresso at my local cafe. In fact, Cary calls me and says "OK, where are you now?" That's how he starts the conversation.

Whoops, it's 9:30 and I'm still in bed, writing this worthless Blog when I could be up and doing something ... anything. Better get to it or I'll turn into a frog or, worse, an amorphous blob.


Stacey, finally relaxing on Mother's Day.