So, I Did It, On to the Next Adventure

I know I'm not between a rock and a hard place, I've opened up a new adventure in my life.

On July 26 of this great year I called the social security office. I was for years hesitant to do so,  it felt like I was playing the "age card" but better sense prevailed. When I got everything squared away and knew that each month money would be coming in, it dawned on me that it was optional that I continue with my counseling practice. Remember I opened for business in our small town in December of 1986. I realize that some of you reading this hadn't been born yet. Also remember that I willingly and enthusiastically have been working at one job or another since I was fourteen years old. I think that's enough time to put in.

Make no mistake, I loved and cherished all of my clients, still do. I often, behind their backs, bragged to anyone who inquired about my clientele "I see fabulous people" and this was absolutely true.  Nonetheless I wanted new adventures and a much need break fretting about other people's dilemmas and problems.

I have had some wonderful and some funny reactions to spreading the news that I am now officially retired. One of my favorite clients said, "I don't think you are allowed to do that," and then she laughed, we both did. I'm still getting calls and e mails and messages on my Facebook page and hence this formal post that I will happily refer you to other good therapists.

Let me just add that I am filled with gratitude for the counseling practice that I created. First of all I've been blessed to work at my hearts desire-- and I might add, one of the most satisfying jobs in the world. Counseling is a humbling, rewarding, inspiring, fulfilling, fascinating and difficult profession and I relished my time doing it.  Secondly, I so loved [and still do] all of the great people who came to my practice. It has been a deep privilege to work with all of you.

My sister Sally says this blog has been my "senior project" and interestingly, if I dare to think of myself- not as a high school student- but as a senior citizen, indeed it is. This blog wasn't even possible several years ago when I was working full time.  I was devoting hours to reading everything I could get my hands on and going to workshops to advance my knowledge of whatever the clients were bringing to me. It took working in a partially retired mode for me to open up this window for writing and I really enjoy it. The hours fly by and it's a rich and a rewarding experience. I intend to keep giving away all of my best thoughts, ideas, therapy tips and stories to anyone who wants them. Such a deal!

 I'm here in our small town and feeling fine. By the way, today is the one year anniversary of my hip surgery and the liberation and gratitude that I feel about being able to walk without pain is a bonus and wonderful. I am looking forward to traveling, writing, volunteering and gathering friends and family for extended visits.

My love to all and thank you, thank you.



susansmagicfeather copyright 2013 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

Yawn, I'm Soooo Tired

Singing on the ferry

Love all the tunes and the harmonies

There's this old saying "youth is wasted on the young". I'm not so sure that's true if you keep your youth in your head and heart. I vividly remember my mother saying when she was in her seventies, "out of these eyes is a 38 year old." I have the exact same feeling now, today, especially since I've gotten more than eight hours sleep. When I've had less that five hours, all bets are off: I become a stumbling, bumbling, crabby idiot of the first class. This was brought home to me the day last month when we, my two sisters and I, were leaving from the guitar workshop. We'd attended that camp for a week and had a marvelous time and yet I nearly wrecked our final day together by barking at them. As one of my sisters said about another trip we took, "Susan, this trip is not about sleep." Camp life proved to be the case in spades...

The reason guitar camp was such a great time was all of the spontaneous singing, playing, performing, dancing, and meeting new people who all had the same interest we did. We jammed especially late on the last night. We stayed up singing at one of the cabins until 2 AM. I was still jazzed when one sister and I left for our cabin. Unfortunately because I was over-stimulated I didn't fall asleep right away. Then two sisters- who shall remain nameless- came crashing in an hour after that and pushed my falling asleep time further into the morning. Ugh.

After a solid four hours sleep, I dragged myself up for breakfast on that last day of camp. We said our good byes, gathered up all the extraneous gear, guitars, etc., hugged everyone we liked and because we had a ferry to catch, I urged the sisters into the car. It wasn't happening. So I told them, "I'll be in the car," thinking surely they can't be long and will follow. Did I mention we had a ferry to catch? Well apparently in my semi stupor I didn't stress this point and what seemed like hours later, I see the two sister casually chatting and strolling their way to the car. I lost it. "Where have you been? Didn't you know I wanted to leave?" "Yes, but you're ruining my good bye experience!" In her/their defense they didn't know that missing the ferry is approximately the experience of missing a plane. Plus, I was driving and didn't know exactly where I was going, always a nerve wracking experience for me. 

Well, to my relief and semi embarrassment, we got to the ferry in time. An additional plus we went upstairs bow at the back of the ferry and, with several of the other camp students, sang for the entire trip. Five part harmony. Loved it. Happily that was a redeeming experience [to my hissy fit] and then miraculously, with ease I navigated our crew to niece Joc and Kevin's house where we were spending the night. Much to my relief, when we asked them out to lunch as a thank you, Kevin offered to drive. I was toast by this time.

After a swell lunch the sisters and I fell into beds for a nap and didn't awake for two and a half hours. Much refreshed we talked for hours, watched some of the performances from the camp and had a lovely night then went to bed. 

I awoke at 3AM and had a bad feeling. "Where are the car keys?" So as to not wake Kathleen I stealthily rummaged through my backpack---no keys. It hadn't rained in two months yet when I went outside to look and see if I'd left the keys in the car, it was raining. Couldn't see but my heart sunk and I thought, I'll never get back to sleep. But I was so exhausted, I did. When K's alarm went off at 6AM I went out, again in the rain, to see if I could pop open the door with a metal clothes hanger. No such luck though I tried for half an hour. Kevin was up and he helped while I went to call the lock and key guy. He got it open! I threw open the car door gratefully and search in all my usual spots for the keys. No keys. Now, time was of the essence [we had to leave for the airport or we would be missing the plane, see above, and it would be my fault]. I raced back into the house I picked up my back pack and gave it a great shake, there among the tea bags were the keys. I had only my exhaustion to blame.

I am living proof that corroborates every study you read pointing out that seven or eight hours are the minimum amounts of sleep required for functioning well. Four hours proved to be my undoing and my third helping of humble pie.

susansmagicfeather copyright 2013 Susan R. Grout all rights reserved

A Good Challenge

Coming home from guitar camp and singing our hearts out on the ferry

I tend to be the smarty pants who tells everyone else what to do, "take the chance, risk the new experience!" what I proclaim to others.  Yet I wanted to eat those words- with chips- when one of my sisters suggested we all go to guitar camp together this summer. "Yikes", I thought, "someone might noticed I've played guitar for over forty years and never improved." But I bit back that thought and signed on. Happily so did three of my sisters, Sally, Trisha and Kathleen. 

Truly it couldn't have been more perfect. I adore being with my lovely, funny, lively sisters and we live thousands of miles away so this was a grand reunion. When we got to the camp, which was rustic and in the woods, there was a pristine lake. Since we all love to swim and the weather was in the eighties I could foresee some salvation for my guitar anxiety. No question, that part was perfect. However....

The guitar camp was a big challenge for me.  I'm not used to being the worst in a class of anything and oh, indeed I was. Prior to signing up for my teacher's class, I proudly told her,  "I know some jazz chords and sing and play some snappy tunes from the thirties and forties", thinking this meant the class would be a breeze. "Good for you, you should do well then," she said. Well, I couldn't have been more wrong. Upon starting my first class, when the teacher told us we were going to do the scales, my thought was, "what in the world am I doing here?" I'm of the home-schooled-folk-rock-schlep-it kind of guitar player. What scales?? Momentary paralysis set in but then I quickly decided that challenge was good for my  brain and my character so I persevered. "Suck it up and dig in," became my mantra to my semi deflated ego.

We were allowed to take three classes a day and due to my ineptness in that first class  I took two easier classes for the rest of the day. That was good--in the other two classes I didn't feel like a first grader in an eighth grade class. It also meant I could enjoy the spirit of the camp: all about learning and having a wonderful time, especially with my three sisters. A big bonus was we swam every day and had delightful encounters with various other students at the camp while resting on the raft.

With brother Bob at his house and here are the sisters who went to camp

At the guitar camp we became known, not as individuals but as "The Sisters".  I thought that was funny and not only didn't mind, but enjoyed the notoriety. As part of the camp experience you have the option of doing a performance. Another plus was you could request to have anyone of the teachers or students back you, and the talent was extraordinary. I was very impressed with Annie, a young woman who taught and played blue grass fiddle. Prior to the camp I had the sisters listen to a song that I particularly loved by the Dixie Chicks. So when I asked Annie if she'd consider accompanying "the Sisters" with that song she said, "yes, but I've never heard of the Dixie Chicks". Trust me, she could play anything and was a joy to listen to, so I had confidence in her.  In me? As lead guitarist? No, I'm always the second banana. Lead singer? Yet another challenge. Again, yikes.

Are you surprised that the sisters took that option to perform times three? None of us is shy, and as one sister pointed out, that's a gross understatement. It's our good fortune that we've been singing together since we were children. Luckily the songs come easily as does the four part harmony. A friend called it "genetically engineered voices," and it's always a pleasure to sing with my sisters. We ended up singing and playing every night with various  people at the camp, reveling in our time together.  As for reveling, it's what we're accustom to, in fact we call ourselves "Sibling Revelry" when we perform. 

Our first performance was with a big band and because I was just part of the group- no sweat- it was fun and went well. We sang, Dan Hicks' "How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away" and the audience cheered. Didn't hurt that we had the fabulous swing band behind us.

The next day loomed for me. I'd signed up for it and what if I screwed up? I looked at the play list for the student concert, hoping against hope that I was on early in the program. Then I could be done with the worrying. But I wasn't on until almost the end of the program. I'm sure my groan was audible. When I complained to a fellow student about my concerns about being on so late, she said, "this is the most supportive audience you could possibly have. Even if people are bleeding out of their eyeballs with exhaustion, they will be there until the end of the program." I laughed and it shut me right up. 

Sally was up early in the program and we were doing a comfortable song that she wrote about another sister, "Don't Call Me Honey Until You Know What Kind of Mood I'm In". Our accompanists were a tuba player and a flute. Fun and funny. We've performed it before and it's always a hit with the audience.  

Interestingly, I usually choose zippy musical numbers that are somewhat silly and I do the harmonies, second banana style. This time I'd chosen a slow soulful number, was to be the lead singer and was the main guitar. Sanity did reign in that I had not only Annie but Sally backing us up [on fiddle and guitar] and of course the sisters singing four part harmony. I expected to be in the audience dreading the hours I'd have to wait to perform, but instead I ended up being enchanted by all the brave, talented students. My focus shifted to them not my own anxiety. Time raced by as I was enveloped by the warmth, the talent and love at the camp.

Finally it was my turn to go on. Prior to the emcee announcing us, I was excited more than nervous and I was just so happy to be meeting the challenge I'd set for myself. I didn't screw up, I actually loved the experience, in the lead, singing with my sisters. The song I choose? The Dixie Chicks' "I Believe in Love" and, god help me, I do. 

It is worth it- to take up a challenge, in fact, I personally recommend it... but then, 
I believe in love.

susansmagicfeather 2013 copyright Susan R. Grout all rights reserved