Never Too Old! (60 is the new 40): Vacations still need a routine

The view from our porch

The differences between my life in Point Richmond and Valois Point are radical.

Both good. But radically different.

Michael and I have traveled so much, relocated so much, lived half and half the year in various places, or sometimes four/four/four months for a few years that the minute we hit the ground, our goal is to get a routine going.

One of the things I've learned from all the moves we've made is that I can't move to a new place or stay somewhere on an extended visit and act like I'm on vacation. It's crazy-making for me anymore and unhealthy. Immediate immersion and routine saves the day, saves my sanity.

Our first weekend back we were lucky to land at our good friend Amanda's house, just in time for a weekend of rain and cool weather. No guilt about hanging around the house, staying indoors, getting rested. After 18 days in the teeny tiny trailer, the space felt huge.

A really good friend cleaning our window

By Sunday we were back in our family cottage, a old fishing and hunting cabin built in the late 1800s. And not built very well then, either. All the familiar creeks and groans are mostly still present. Michael was a little startled when the front porch screen door didn't slam with a screech, as it had for decades but he reassured when the wood stairs still creaked and groan just exactly right.

But there are big differences between condo living in San Francisco and living in our little wood-framed cottage in the country.

For one, the bugs. Our cottage has them. Not so much in our hermetically sealed condo in San Francisco. The first thing I did was vacuum up every bug/web/ant/crawly or flying thing so I could sleep at night. I didn't used to be so picky.

Second, our cottage is in a gorgeous rural area of the Finger Lakes in New York. We're right on the lake, surrounded by vineyards and orchards and trees and grasses. Extremely quiet. Except for the squirrels living in the ceiling and using it either as an autobahn or a soccer field. Not much people noise. But a fair amount of birds, squirrels and other wild things.

Because it's so rural, it's also a place where you have to have a car and you pretty much can't walk if you want to get there the same day. Watkins Glen is 14 miles. Hector is probably three or four. At our cottage, a walk for exercise has to be scheduled as 'a walk'. A walk around the block here is two miles. In Point Richmond, I can walk the two miles along the shore or over the hills to get to Body Wisdom Studio in the mornings to teach or to take classes. It's integrated into my day. I'm finding the concept of 'taking a walk' requires more discipline. I haven't mastered it quite yet.

And our lovely cottage –– a source of family legends and stories and familiarity –– is as basic as she comes. So daily chores takes organization and routine. The beach well water from the lake gets pumped up to our very old thousand gallon cistern to run the house, which Michael fills almost daily by going downstairs to our musty and dusty cellar to turn the pump on. It's not drinking water, so jug water also always has to be available.

Definitely no automatic dishwasher –– and no maid service. There are so many minerals in the water that the machinery cruds up pretty fast. I'm finding the water here definitely agrees with my skin and hair. Our city water is pretty sterile in California, like almost anywhere. A friend among friends, Sue Wolf came over Sunday morning and helped me de-buggify the place. And even cleaned our windows!

But as much as country living takes some adjustment each summer, it's also fun to have everything around here stay so much the same. For decades.

My walking buddies still meet every morning at 8

Monday morning I drove up to Satterly Hill Road to join my walking buddies, who I could count on would still be meeting to walk at 8 a.m. Mondays through Fridays. I didn't have to call anyone to confirm.

I knew that Monday night most of my extended family and half our Hector friends would be at Blues Night at Rasta Ranch, where my cousin Brett Beardslee plays music and various local friends join in on the deck of the winery owned by his mother-in-law. Today I get to see old friends at a book club that I helped launch many years ago.

Michael's days are equally full. But the next phase, as the temperatures heat up at the end of the week, is to descend to the dock and appreciate lake weather. The summers here are so short that no one wants to miss a minute.

Scott Adams and Cousin Brett Beardslee singing the blues

Today is cool and rainy again, making it so much easier to stay in and prep for my class, blog, sweep up some more bugs. Tomorrow cousins start arriving in droves for the weeklong (or longer) Fourth of July festivities. And tomorrow I teach my first Dynamic Aging workshop at a Watkins Glen fitness studio.

My goal for the remainder of this visit is to keep a routine going, stay healthy, and still have a bit of spontaneity. It's a worthy goal. Stay tuned.