I want to be honest with you: I had absolutely no plan. None. I walked away from a career, and I told myself the rest would sort itself out.

The Job I Walked Away From (And the One I Snuck Back Into)

Here’s what most people don’t know about me: before any of this — before pickleball, before Substack, before I became the great-grandmother who apparently can’t sit still — I was a VP of Sales for a nationwide company. Seventeen offices. I lived in airports and convention centers so many days a year that flight attendants knew my drink order. I knew how to work a room, close a deal, and manage a team that didn’t always want to be managed.

I was good at it. Really good. But somewhere in there, all the corporate BS started to wear a groove in me, and retirement age was creeping up like a text from an unknown number — you know it’s coming, you just don’t know what it’s going to say.

So in 2007, at sixty years old, while everyone else my age was buying the recliner, I got my real estate license. Nailed it on the first try, thank you very much. Then, because apparently one new career wasn’t enough of a dare, I went to night school for interior design and home staging certifications too. I had visions of myself as the next great home stager. Very HGTV of me — back when HGTV was the only one who knew what home staging even was.

Big dreams. Terrible timing. The economy crashed within weeks of me getting that license. So I did what the rest of us did: kept my head down, kept the day job, and renewed a license I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually use — like a gym membership for a body I wasn’t sure would show up.

What Retirement Actually Felt Like

When I finally did retire, the first six months were glorious. I will die on this hill: there is nothing better than 6am and nowhere to be. But then the quiet stopped being peaceful and started being just... quiet. The bad kind. The kind that echoes.

Then came the meeting that knocked the wind clean out of me. Dean and I sat down with a financial advisor to talk numbers. And I know what you’re thinking — Gidget, shouldn’t you have done that before you walked out of a thirty-year career? Fair. The honest answer is I told myself “I got this, I’ll figure it out,” which is a sentence I do not recommend saying to a financial advisor’s face.

He looked at me and said, and I quote: “You’re fine to retire completely — as long as you never spend an extra dollar on anything, for the rest of your life. No new car. No new home. Nothing extra. Ever.”

I’m sorry, come again?

Read that back. Never spend an extra dollar. That’s not retirement, honey. That’s a life sentence with better weather.

And underneath the money panic was a quieter problem: I was lonely. Not the dramatic kind. The desert-quiet kind. I needed the phone to ring. I needed somewhere to be and a reason to put on real pants.

“Why Aren’t You Selling Real Estate?”

A broker friend asked me that, flat out, like it was the most obvious question in the world. And honestly? It kind of was. I had the license. It had been gathering dust for a decade, right next to the “someday” pile.

Here’s the mindset shift nobody warns you about: it was never really about being “too old.” It was the fear of being a beginner again at an age where you’re supposed to have already figured everything out. I had to talk myself out of “I’m too old for this” and into “I’m already qualified for this.” Two very different sentences. I needed somebody else to say the second one out loud before I could believe it myself.

I’m almost 79 years old now, and I still remember exactly what flipping that switch felt like. So I flipped it. I went into results mode.

And I have not stopped building since.

But that first year back? Nobody warns you about that either. There’s a refrigerator involved. And a broker who taught me the hardest, truest lesson of my entire second career in exactly one sentence.

Just go, girl — what’s stopping you?

[The rest of this story — including the refrigerator mistake that cost me my entire first commission, and the six words my broker said that I’ve never forgotten — is for paid subscribers. If you’re new here, this is where the real, unpolished stuff lives.]

🔒 PAID SUBSCRIBERS: The First Year Nobody Tells You About

My first year back, I was selling mobile homes practically walking distance from my house, training with a one-woman brokerage, figuring out an entire industry from scratch at sixty-something. Beginner’s mind. Beginner’s ego. Beginner’s mistakes.

My very first transaction — my first one — I made zero dollars on. Because I wrote into the deal that a refrigerator came with the house.

It did not come with the house. As far as the seller was concerned, anyway.

The buyer had a fit. Understandably. And my broker looked me dead in the eye and said: when you promise something like that, you deliver it. So I bought that refrigerator myself. Out of my own commission. My very first deal, and I walked away with a receipt for a Whirlpool and a very expensive education.

The buyer even told my broker she knew I was brand new. My broker just shrugged and said, “That’s not my problem. That’s her problem, and you she has to take care of it and I did. She seemed to know I wasn’t a flash in the pan Realtor, I was in it for the long haul. Harsh? Maybe. But I have built an entire eleven-year second career on that one sentence, and I’ve never forgotten it. When you have tough love like that..it matters and you remember.

From there I moved to Coldwell Banker, joined a team with a guy who was a super star agent…loved every minute learning, and splitting commissions while I learned the real rhythm of this business — not the version in the training manuals, the version that actually happens at kitchen tables and closing tables, usually at the worst possible moment.

Here’s another one for you. Early on, a gentleman and his wife sat across the table from me, signed the papers, and told me they were putting in an offer on an $875,000 home — all cash. Beautiful. Easy. I love a cash deal.

Except a few days later I get a call from the loan officer at the bank. “Wait... he said all cash?”

I called the buyer to double-check, and he said, without missing a beat, “Oh, the sellers will be getting all cash.” Mr…. That’s not what all cash means.

Lesson learned, the hard way: don’t just nod and smile when someone says “all cash.” Ask for the proof of funds. Every time. No exceptions, no matter how nice their handshake is.

It took about two years before I felt like I actually knew what I was doing.

Today, that’s Marvelous Desert Homes. Still building. Still loving it and still learning that every transaction, buyer and seller can be very unique. Eleven years in, at an age most people assume means you’ve stopped starting things.

They’d be wrong. Mo passion, mo energy.

Tomorrow is not promised — so I bought the refrigerator, ate the loss, and kept going. Turns out that was the whole point.

Just go, girl.

You don’t need a five-year plan to get moving again — a five-year plan will usually just paralyze you. What you need is the one small step that gets you off the shelf. In the next section, I’ll walk you through exactly what that step looked like for me, and how you find yours.

Here’s the thing nobody tells you about turning 79 and this is personal : you start doing math you never wanted to do. Not “how many candles fit on the cake” math. The other kind, the kind that says…hey what were you thinking??

Also, not the big dramatic stuff. Not the regrets about the marriage that didn’t work out, or the kids or moving to the desert. I mean the sneaky stuff. The stuff that felt like nothing at the time and turned into everything thirty years later.

I would have saved more. There. I said it. Grandma Gidget “Just Go Girl” , who tells you every week to bet on yourself, is telling you she didn’t bet on her bank account the way she should have. I could blame society that didn’t tell us girls in the early years to save more than we spend…or I could have not spent money on things that felt necessary at 40 and feel ridiculous at 79. I didn’t think about 79. Nobody thinks about 79 when they’re 40. That’s the whole problem.

And here’s what really gets me — I’m one of the lucky ones. I’m still working. I’m still “unretired.” Dean and I still have our late in life real estate careers… I’ve got real estate deals closing throughout the year. I have income coming in that a lot of people my age simply do not have anymore. I’m not “unretired” for my health, though pickleball helps with that too. I’m un-retired because of what the extra income actually covers. Let’s be honest about it, because nobody else will be:

Which means, I know exactly what I’d tell a younger woman who isn’t saving enough and is worrying about the future white-knuckling it on a fixed income, wondering if she will be able to put gas in the car and buy her great-grandbaby a birthday present without flinching.

My personal list of what gives me joy and extra income helps with… I’m not saying you should be thinking about starting a side hustle or another career…but..let’s consider:

• Vacations that aren’t “staying with your daughter for free.” A real trip. A flight. A hotel that isn’t a Motel 6.

• Updating Furniture and home repairs on my own timeline, not “wait two years and save up for the water heater.”

• Medical and dental costs Medicare doesn’t touch — hearing aids, dental implants, the eye drops that cost more than my first car payment.

• Spoiling the grandkids and great-grandkids. I know, I know. Every financial guy on YouTube including ours says don’t do it. I do it anyway. It’s my money and my joy and I’ve earned the right to be a little irresponsible about a birthday check.

• Helping my grown kids when I probably shouldn’t, but I’m the mom, and that never stops, even at 79.

• Breathing room. The ability to say yes to something without doing math first.

That’s what the extra income is for. Not survival. Living. There’s a difference, and nobody talks about it enough.

I’m not going to lecture you. I’m going to hand you the detailed list I wish somebody had handed me thirty years ago. What’s actually eating your money every month. Where the real leaks are. And what it costs, in cold hard numbers, to have the extras — the trip, the new couch, spoiling the grandkids rotten even though your financial advisor would have a stroke — versus just getting by.

PAID CONTENT STARTS HERE

Part 1: What It Actually Costs US to Live — The Numbers Nobody Shows You

I’m sharing the real numbers instead of guessing, because guessing is how people end up broke. Here’s what the average American (me) household spends today, broken down the way it actually hits your bank account:

Housing (even with a small mortgage or the house paid off):

• Mortgage or remaining payment: varies, but housing overall (mortgage/rent, taxes, insurance, repairs, utilities) runs about $2,100–$2,200/month for the average household. We have chosen to live in a gated community and pay $900.00 for a HOA..it covers so much but it’s extra…just sayin..and yes we will probably be moving and reduce those costs but for now..it’s real and we love where we live. again, choices….

• Homeowners insurance alone: often $150–$250/month depending on your state — and if you’re anywhere near fire risk, add more

• Utilities: roughly $350–$400/month

• Home maintenance and repairs: budget $100–$200/month even if nothing’s “broken” — something always needs fixing. Our HOA takes care of outside maintenance, roof, paint, landscaping and security but we still have inside maintenance and upgrades.

Transportation (even with the car paid off):

• Car insurance: averages around $130–$165/month per vehicle, we have only one car now which really helps. We rent cars when we go out of the area, we added up our rental costs and we’re still saving close to $300 per month.

• Gas: roughly $130–$200/month depending on how much you drive

• Maintenance (oil changes, tires, the inevitable “check engine” light): budget $75–$150/month

Groceries and food:

• Groceries alone average around $475–$520/month per household

• Add eating out occasionally and food overall runs $580–$650/month, yes we could cut this but it’s part of our joy.

Healthcare (outside of insurance premiums):

• Out-of-pocket healthcare averages $450–$550/month — and that’s before dental, hearing, or vision extras Medicare doesn’t fully cover, let that sink in…

Personal insurance, life insurance, personal articles and “just in case” costs:

• Roughly $500/month on average across households, though this can be adjusted and drops significantly once you’re not contributing to retirement accounts anymore.

Add it up: even a “modest” retired household — small mortgage or none, car paid off, no debt — is realistically looking at $3,500–$4,500 a month just to cover the basics. That’s before a single vacation, a single grandkid’s birthday, or a single new couch.

Part 2: The “Didn’t Save Enough” Money-Saving Checklist

If you’re staring at that list above and your stomach just dropped, hey girl — breathe. Here’s the checklist. Not a lecture. A checklist.

• [ ] Call your insurance company and ask for a “loyalty review.” Home and auto insurers rarely offer you their best rate automatically — you have to ask. Do this once a year, every year.

• [ ] Go down to one car if you possible are able to make it work

• [ ] Bundle home and auto if you haven’t. Often an instant 10–15% savings.

• [ ] Raise your deductible if you have an emergency fund to cover it. Lowers your monthly premium immediately.

• [ ] Audit every subscription you’re paying for. Streaming services, apps, magazines you forgot about. Cancel anything you haven’t used in 60 days, it’s shocking, we recently used Rocket Money to identify those and WOW…

• [ ] Ask your utility company about senior or fixed-income discount programs. Most have one. Almost nobody asks.

• [ ] Refinance or shop your homeowners insurance every 2 years, even if you’re happy — rates creep, and loyalty doesn’t pay you back.

• [ ] Use a cashback app or credit card that you pay off each month or store loyalty program for groceries — even 3-5% back adds up to real money over a year.

• [ ] Meal plan weekly instead of shopping “as needed.” This alone can cut a grocery bill by 15-20%. I order Cook Unity and I’ll tell you why,.no waste and it’s my individual tastes, (my husband doesn’t like veggies or couscous. It’s fresh and delivered each week to my door.

• [ ] Get a property tax reassessment if your home’s value dropped or you qualify for a senior exemption — many states offer one and most homeowners never apply.

• [ ] Delay big discretionary purchases 30 days. If you still want it in 30 days, buy it. Most of the time, you won’t.

• [ ] Talk to a fee-only financial advisor (not a commission-based one) about a “reverse budget” — start with what income you actually have coming in, then build spending around that, instead of the other way around.

• [ ] If you’re still working or freelancing (hi, unretired friends), separate that income mentally from your “survival” budget. Let it be the fun money. Vacations, grandkids, furniture. That’s what it’s for.

Part 3: The Truth I’d Tell My 40-Year-Old Self

Save more than feels necessary. You will not regret the extra $50 or $100 a month you didn’t spend on something you don’t remember buying. You will regret not having it at 79.

But also — don’t wait until you’ve “saved enough” to start living a little. I didn’t wait. I got unretired instead. And that’s a whole different Substack post.

Thank you for reading and commenting on my personal thoughts,,,it’s not easy to share these things but my life is what it is at this point and if one person reads and takes an action step from it..I’ve made myself useful..

Tomorrow isn’t promised… Make today fabulous.

— Grandma Gidget 💕

Grandma Gidget is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

I want to show you something.

Back in July, I posted this on Substack: Almost completely new to Substack!!!

“Someone asked me this week if it’s ‘too late’ to start something new at 73. Girl. It’s Saturday. Start it today. Just GO! I’m 78, have a YouTube channel, and here on Substack... keeping the cobwebs outta my brain. Tomorrow is not promised, so make today fabulous.”

Took me about ninety seconds to write. I almost didn’t post it — it felt too simple, too short, not “substantial” enough compared to some of the longer pieces I’d been working on.

Here’s what happened instead: 2,648 likes. 298 replies. 101 restacks. Almost 32,000 people saw it. And it brought in 475 new subscribers — practically my entire audience, from one ninety-second Note.

I’m going to be honest with you: I had no idea what I was doing. I still don’t, most days. I’m 78 years old, 79 in 2 weeks, building this thing from a beach bungalow with no marketing degree, no social media team, just me, my phone, and whatever’s true that day. When that Note took off, I didn’t have a strategy. I had a feeling, and I typed it out.

So now I’m asking myself the question I bet you’d ask too: what do I do with that?

Here’s what I’m learning, in real time, as I figure it out:

• Short and honest beats long and polished, at least on Substack. I’ve written pieces I worked on for hours that got a fraction of the response of that ninety-second Note. Humbling. Also useful.

• A checklist I built with good intentions flopped completely. Nobody clicked it. I thought it would help. It just sat there. Lesson learned: people don’t want more homework from me. They want me.

• This — the honest, “here’s what’s actually happening” version of my business — might be worth more than I gave it credit for. I almost didn’t write this post either, for the same reason I almost skipped the July Note: it felt too plain. Too “just talking.” Turns out that might be exactly the point.

I don’t have this all figured out. I’m 78 closer to 80 than I ever dreamed…, Some months I’ll have real wins to show you. Some months I’ll show you what flopped, like the checklist. Both are useful. Both are true.

This is exactly the kind of thing I’m thinking about offering paid subscribers regularly — the real behind-the-scenes, not just the finished, polished posts. If that’s something you’d actually want more of, tell me. I’m building this with you, not just for you.

I gave you this one for free because I wanted you to see it before I decided anything. So — would you want more of this, would you pay for it? Drop a comment and let me know. And if you’re curious what else is coming for paid subscribers, now’s a good time to take a look.

Tomorrow is not promised, so today, I’m just going to keep being honest with you. Grandma Gidget…going for it!!!

We’re staying at this little bungalow at the beach. Gorgeous spot. The kind of place you’re supposed to be “inspired” in.

It’s eleven o’clock in the morning and the sun still isn’t out..It’s August, and we have some leftover June Gloom..(if you know, you know). And where are we ? On the couch. Watching YouTube videos. Still in my pajamas, if we’re being honest. Not doing anything wrong, exactly. Just... not doing anything.

Here’s the thing nobody tells you about being 78, actually at any age..my 27 year old granddaughter calls it rotting…lol : the couch doesn’t get less comfortable. If anything, it gets better at holding onto you. There’s always a reason to stay — no one’s expecting me anywhere, nothing’s on the calendar, and the ocean isn’t going anywhere either, right?

Wrong. The ocean’s fine. I’m the one who was disappearing, one scrolled video at a time.

So here’s what I’ve learned, and it’s embarrassingly simple: on the days I don’t have anything scheduled — which is exactly when I’m most likely to vanish into the couch cushions — I put my walking shoes on. That’s the whole move. Not “commit to a 5-mile hike.” Not “have a plan.” Just shoes on.

Turns out shoes on is 90% of the battle. Nobody stands up, laces up walking shoes, and then sits back down.

I built myself a stupid-simple system for days exactly like this one, that end with a “Y”, and made one for you too — the wide-open, nothing-scheduled, sun’s-already-up-and-I’m-still-in-my-pajamas days. Because those are the days that get you, not the busy ones.

This post has a bonus for paid subscribers… — I made you something to stick on your fridge for exactly this week or any day that ends in “Y.” Click the download and print…I hope it gives you motivation to “Just Go” and put on those shoes …one week on the fridge from Grandma Gidget.

Thank you for the support, I truly want to encourage and help my fellow ladies or gentlemen to start Monday with a fresh off the couch and all days that end in “Y”….out for a walk kinda day. I will be adding new items often… Please comment and tell me what inspires you?

One other idea I have: make a date…my friend sends me texts and a place to meet…sometimes if I ignore or say no, I’m always sorry later. Much Love…Grandma Gidget

Shoes On 7 Day Schedule

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Can I tell you something that took me years to admit?

My daughters are now 53 and 58.

Motherhood was hard for me.

There.

I said it.

Not because I didn’t love my girls.

I loved them with everything I had.

They were adorable.

I sewed little outfits for them.

I was proud of them.

I wanted to be there before school and after school every single day.

I wouldn’t trade those memories for anything.

But...

Sometimes I wondered where I had gone.

I didn’t want to think that way.

I wanted to be positive.

I wanted to be loving.

I wanted to have no regrets.

I got married when I was nineteen.

My first daughter was born when I was twenty.

Think about that for a minute.

I wasn’t even old enough to walk into a bar.

I was changing diapers.

Some days I’d look around and quietly wonder,

“Is this really my life already?”

Then I’d feel guilty for even thinking it.

Because good mothers weren’t supposed to have those thoughts.

At least, that’s what I believed.

Looking back, I wish someone had leaned over and whispered,

“You’re allowed to miss pieces of your old life.”

“It’s okay to feel sad.”

“It’s okay to have moments of regret.”

I had those feelings.

But I hid them.

I thought admitting them would make me look like a bad mother.

Now I know better.

Feel those emotions.

Let them pass through you.

Then let them go.

You are not alone.

There are more of us who understand than you could ever imagine.

Today I’m a great-grandmother to three wonderful little ones.

When I watch my granddaughter raising her two-year-old, I recognize those exhausting moments.

Sometimes I simply say,

“I’ll take her for a little while.”

And I watch the relief wash over her face.

Maybe she uses those few quiet minutes to drink a cup of coffee while it’s still hot.

Maybe she closes her eyes.

Maybe she sits in the bathroom for five minutes without someone knocking on the door.

Whatever she chooses...

She deserves that moment.

Because taking a break doesn’t make you a bad mother.

It makes you human.

So if you’re in the grocery store one day, exhausted, overwhelmed, and wondering if you’re the only one...

You’re not.

If I happen to see you...

I’ll probably give you a hug.

Big hugs,

Grandma Gidget ❤️

A quick disclaimer up front: I’m not a doctor or a trainer — just a 78-year-old woman who’s figured out what keeps her body willing to show up, and what keeps her safe while she does it. Always check with your own doctor before starting anything new.

At 78, I put my shoes on before I let myself decide whether I was actually going. That’s the trick. Because some mornings, if I stop to ask my body how it feels, my body will absolutely talk me out of it. But shoes on, bag on my shoulder, cute pickleball outfit and I’m already halfway to the court — laughing before I’ve hit a single ball, looking around at players who are, most of them, easily two decades younger than me. I am 79 years old. I did not expect, at this age, to still feel my stomach flip a little walking into a group of people — the good kind of flip, the “I hope this is fun” kind — but here I am, every single week, feeling exactly that.

The joy is real. I want to be clear about that first, because the rest of what I’m about to tell you might sound cautious, even boring, and I don’t want you to mistake caution for the absence of joy. An hour before that pickleball court, I’m usually alone, feeling cheeky in my skirt walking toward the pier and through town. I’ve told Dean where I’m going. My phone is charged. And somewhere between the downtown and that pier, I do a kind of internal check-in nobody taught me — what actually hurts today, and what’s just stiff — before I decide how hard to push. Tomorrow is not promised, so I refuse to waste today being careless with myself. But I also refuse to waste it being scared. There’s a way to hold both of those at once, and it took me years to find it.

So I did something about it. I sat down and wrote out the actual rules I live by now — not the Pinterest version, the real one. Including the rule I have about exactly who I will and won’t share a court with, and why I’ve stopped apologizing for walking off one mid-game. It’s not long. It’s not complicated. But it’s the difference between doing this for one more season and doing this for the next twenty years.

Here’s my full list — the good, the unglamorous, and the one rule underneath all of it. To unlock the full checklist and support the time it takes me to share these journeys, consider becoming a paid subscriber. I’d love to have you in our inner circle! YES

You’re in. This is the real list — the one taped up in my head, not my fridge. Steal it, print it, tell me where I’m wrong. thank you so very much…I am grateful for you….

Before I even think about the pickleball court:
☐ I ask myself one honest question: what actually hurts today, and what’s just stiff?
☐ I move something small first — ankles, wrists, neck — I touch my toes, I jog sided to side before anything bigger
☐ I never skip the warmup just because I “already know” I’ll be fine

Getting motivated when I don’t feel like it:
☐ I put my shoes and cute outfit on before I decide whether I’m going
☐ I remind myself: tomorrow isn’t promised, so today’s the one I’ve got
☐ I think about how I’ll feel after, not how I feel right now

On the pickleball court for me as a woman:
☐ I let myself scream “Mo Passion, Mo Energy” if I feel it — no shame in loud joy
☐ I take the water break before I think I need it, not after
☐ I’m careful about who I play with — no offense to anyone, but I don’t play with men or much better players I don’t know, whose only object is to win, and who play aggressively
☐ I trust my gut if a game feels off, and I sit that one out without apologizing for it
☐ I play with people who make me laugh, not just people who make me win

Beach walks — safety first:
☐ I tell my husband or someone where I’m walking and roughly how long I’ll be, every time
☐ I stick to beaches with people around — joy doesn’t require isolation, though I love early morning when it’s just me and the sand
☐ Barefoot in the shallow water when I can — small luxury, not exercise
☐ I walk on the wet, solid sand at the water’s edge toward something — a pier, a lifeguard stand
☐ I keep my phone on me, charged, even for a “quick” walk
☐ I stop when something feels good, not just when I’m tired — but I also stop the second something feels wrong, no explanation needed

The one rule underneath all of it:
☐ Gentle and consistent beats intense and occasional, every single time — and safety is never the boring part, it’s what makes the joy last

(And as always — check with your own doctor about what's right for your body before you make any of this a habit. I'm just telling you what works for mine.)

If one of these rules stepped on your toes a little — good. Tell me which one in the comments. And if you know a woman who needs permission to sit out a game without apologizing for it, forward this to her. That’s how this whole thing grows: one honest list, passed hand to hand. I truly appreciate and thank you for supporting me.

I got 135 answers. From women over 70. Women who have officially run out of time for being polite about anything.

So here it is. Straight, no chaser, no life-coach music playing in the background. This is the group chat your 30-year-old self did not get invited to, and honestly? She’s lucky. We would’ve wrecked her.

1. Buy the stock. Apple. IBM. Microsoft. Buy it, then forget you own it for 40 years, the way you forget you own a crockpot. You don’t need to be a genius. You need to not panic-sell during a bad Tuesday.

2. Marry slower. Meet the whole family before you say “I do.” Meet the sister who “just needs a little help” every single Christmas. Honestly, you might even marry the guy next door and have him stay living there…perfect marriage idea don’t you think?

3. Eat the cake. 80% kale, 20% cake, 0% guilt, 100% chance you’re going to eat the cake anyway, so let’s stop pretending.

4. Your gut was right. It’s still right. It was right when you ignored it in 1987 and it’s right now. Stop taking a group-chat vote on things your own stomach already told you.

5. Quit worrying. It has never once, not one single time, prevented a bad thing from happening. What it has done is ruin roughly 4,000 perfectly good Tuesdays for absolutely no return on investment.

6. Get the second opinion. If a doctor’s ego can’t survive you asking a question, that doctor’s ego is not your problem to protect.

7. Take the trip. Your knees are, right now, reading this sentence, the youngest they will ever be for the rest of your entire life. That’s not a metaphor. That’s just math. Book the flight.

8. Skip the extra shift. Nobody has ever laid on their deathbed thinking “if only I’d stayed for that Thursday 6pm meeting.” Go home. Eat dinner with people who like you.

9. Know your own money. Every account, every password, every single number — know it like it’s yours, because shockingly, it is yours. Married or single-doesn’t matter. “My husband handles that” is not a financial plan, it’s a nap”.

10. You’re already enough. Say it out loud in the mirror even though you’ll feel like an idiot. Especially because you’ll feel like an idiot. That’s how you know you needed to hear it.

Want the pretty, fridge-worthy version of the list above and the lines that got cut for being "too much"? All of that's below for paid subscribers. “Free readers — go buy the stock”. I mean it. Stop reading and go. Love Grandma Gidget…

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Hey girl, yes you…I’m 78 now and tried to be “Retired” at 67…didn’t work…

Retirement. The gold watch, the rocking chair, the “you’ve earned your rest” speech everyone loves to give you right before your brain turns into a Sunday afternoon rerun.

I tried it. Sort of…..For about 6 months.

Then I sold a house.

Here’s the thing nobody puts on the retirement brochure: some of us aren’t tired. Life is expensive and I love the life I had before I used the “R” word. I found that out in the first 6 months over 11 years ago. Between the economy, healthcare costs, and just plain wanting a life that includes travel, nice clothes, my 3 granddaughters and daughters fun weekends and vacations… (I spent my 75th on the Empire State Building after a Amtrak ride from California to NYC). Are you getting my thoughts here?? Sometimes it’s math, and sometimes it’s, did I invest properly, do I have financial regrets….??? And that’s okay. That’s real. Let’s just say it out loud instead of pretending everyone who works past 65 is doing it for the “passion project” of it all.

So here I am. Real estate license current, phone buzzing, still showing houses in between pickleball games at an age when I could absolutely be napping instead. And you know what? Let’s go.

The part nobody talks about: your brain needs a job too

Here’s my unofficial theory, and I will die on this hill: when you retire fully — I mean fully, no projects, no challenges, no reason to get up in the morning…the cobwebs in your brain don’t leave, they just get fuzzier. Like a guest room nobody’s opened in a year.

Work, for me, is meeting new people, connecting with the old and adding activities with potential friends who might just be a client someday. You see, I’m picky about who we work with, there’s the FREEDOM…Freedom to select and Freedom to say NO…are there days I’d like to slam the phone and not say I’m sorry…you bet…but Navigating a tricky conversation with a buyer who’s convinced their popcorn ceiling is a “feature.” “is solving a problem” and my success on the other end is my MEDICINE…. Those aren’t headaches. Those are mental reps. That’s how the neural pathways keep firing instead of, well, dusting.

I’m not saying you need to go get a real estate license at “60” (2007) like I did… (nailed the California test on day 1) or go to school at night to fulfill your dream to be a Interior Designer or get certified as a home stager while being VP of sales for a national company. I’m say don’t wait..as the Nike says…JUST DO IT..,

Hey girl, here’s what “unretired” actually looks like for me

• I say yes to the appointment even when I could say no.

• We only work with clients who don’t expect us to care more than they do

• I learn the annoying new app or platform like this Substack…or consult with my 19 year old granddaughters.. (some days I still ask my grandkid, we’re all human).

• I will be honest at this point…I’m a social animal…I love people and keep my calendar a little too full on purpose, because empty calendars and cobwebs in the brain go together.

• I remind myself, out loud sometimes, that “still working” is not the same as “failed to retire.” It’s just a different chapter, and I get to write it.

Paid subscribers, here is your official homework for the week. Pick at least two of these, do them badly if you have to, but just do them!

• [ ] The Counter Balance: Do 10 toe-raises at the kitchen counter while your coffee is brewing or water is boiling for pasta

• [ ] Take on one “Annoying” Tech Thing: Open an app you usually avoid and click three buttons just to see what they do. You won’t break it, I promise!

• [ ] Be Spontaneous If a friend calls to grab an iced tea or go for a quick walk, say yes before your brain has time to make an excuse.

• [ ] The “YES” Power Move: Practice saying YES. I will try that this week..it’s out of my comfort zone…

• Let’s go

If you’re out there quietly wondering whether it’s “too late” to start something, take a client, sell a service, launch the thing — girl, it is not too late. It was never too late. For some of us…the only thing retiring fully guarantees you is a dusty brain and a very well-rested rocking chair.

Tomorrow is not promised, so make today fabulous. And if fabulous today means closing on a house, learning a new app badly, or just proving the popcorn ceiling wrong — let’s go.

Love, Gidget

Summer without my normal equipment…

I packed for weeks at our little beach bungalow and did not pack the rebounder. Couldn’t. The thing barely fits in my living room, let alone a suitcase. So for the first time in longer than I can remember, my mornings don’t start with six minutes of bouncing in front of the sliding door.

I panicked about this for approximately one day. Then I looked outside and remembered something: I traded my rebounder for the actual ocean. I think I’m going to survive.

Turns out you don’t need equipment when you’ve got sand. Walking on sand works muscles a treadmill never touches — ask anyone who’s tried it and woken up sore in places they forgot existed. I’ve been doing my morning walk right at the waterline, where the sand is packed and a little more forgiving, and some mornings I let myself go barefoot in the shallow water just because I can. No rebounder ever gave me that.

Here’s what I’m realizing: my rebounder was never really the point. It was never magic. It was just the thing I committed to, in the place I happened to be. Right now, the thing I’m committing to is the ocean and a pickleball court with strangers who are quickly becoming friends. Different tools, same decision — show up, move your body, stay engaged with your life.

If you’re somewhere without your usual setup this summer — no gym, no equipment, no routine — I’d ask you the same question I asked myself: what have you got instead? A sidewalk? A pool? A park with a bench and five minutes? Start there. The rebounder isn’t the secret. Showing up is.

Vacation, no rebounder, and so far, I’m more active than I’ve been in months. Funny how that works.

1. Morning walks on packed sand, not soft sand.
Soft, dry sand is brutal on aging knees and hips — it shifts under you and makes everything harder than it needs to be. I stick to the wet, packed sand near the waterline. Same ocean air, same workout for your legs, a lot less strain.

2. Pickleball, thanks to a friend who couldn’t be there herself.
My longtime friend and pickleball partner — someone I’ve known since we lived at this same beach 45 years ago — got injured just a week before I arrived at our rental this summer. I was heartbroken for her, and honestly a little lost without her on the court. But instead of both of us sitting this season out, she connected me with a few of her regular playing partners. So off I went, three days a week, playing with women I’d never met before her. I miss her every single time I step on that court. But I know exactly what she’d say if I used her injury as my excuse to stop: don’t you dare. So I don’t.

3. Barefoot time in the shallow water.
A few minutes standing or walking in ankle-deep water does more for circulation and balance than people realize. It’s gentle, it’s free, and it feels like a small luxury instead of exercise, which is exactly why I actually do it.

4. A five-minute “something” instead of a full routine.
Without my rebounder, I stopped waiting for the “real” workout and started doing whatever five minutes I could manage — stretching on the porch, a lap around the block, standing in the sun with my coffee doing slow arm circles like I’ve lost my mind. It all counts. None of it needs to be impressive.

5. Saying yes before I talk myself out of it.
Honestly, the biggest thing keeping me active isn’t a technique — it’s catching myself before the excuse forms. “It’s hot.” “I don’t know anyone here.” “Maybe tomorrow.” At 78, I’ve learned tomorrow isn’t guaranteed, so more often than not, I just go.

None of this requires equipment, a gym, or a rebounder shoved in a suitcase. It just requires showing up with whatever you’ve got, wherever you are — and sometimes, a good friend who insists you keep going even when she can’t join you.

As always — check with your own doctor before starting anything new, especially somewhere unfamiliar. This is what’s working for me, not a prescription for you.

I’m Gidget — 78, “young at heart,” and eleven years into what everyone else calls retirement. I never quite retired. I just kept building — friendships, a real estate business, and a life I actually want to be in.

If you’re reading this, maybe you know that feeling — where everything on the outside looks fine, but inside you feel a little stalled. A little invisible. Maybe even quietly scared of losing your independence, your momentum, your you.

I’ve been there. I started over once already, at 47. I know what it’s like to not know where to begin.

So this is what you’ll find here: real stories, no lectures. Some days it’s about staying strong enough to keep playing pickleball. Some days it’s about a fall I had, and what it taught me about care without giving up. Some days it’s just honest talk about starting again.

A few good places to start:

• [7 Ideas to Get You Going Today and This Month]

• [Why I Keep a Rebounder in My Living Room]

• [RETIRED?? NOT QUITE!]

I post new stories and quick thoughts through the week. Subscribe, and stick around.

And tell me in the comments — what’s one thing you’ve been putting off?

Tomorrow’s not promised. Let’s make today fabulous.

I hope you are enjoying my articles about friendships old and new? I find it’s one of the best parts of my life and I’m about to be 79. My 2 girls and granddaughters love me and we spend great time together but my daily life involves friends on a regular basis. May I be so brave to suggest that if you’re lonely and able, try moving to a active community if friendships and activity are what you’re missing. I do live in a golf course community, after retirement we sold the big house and bought a condo on the golf course (not 55 or older) which lends itself to this more than a regular single family neighborhood. A few weeks ago I looked around the pickleball courts and our regular Bunco nights, I then realized something. Most of those “new Friends”, I’ve only known for about four years and most of them are 10-15 years younger than me.. I really believe that’s a factor as well, they are willing to just make plans and go go go…keeping me moving all the time. It’s not for everybody but why not?? . That’s when it hit me — it’s not just old friends who keep you going. It’s not just new ones either. You need both.

Life doesn’t hand you a built-in social circle anymore the way work or raising kids once did. Between pickleball, Bunco once a month, and Bocce on the regular, I’ve built a whole new circle in the last few years some fun some serious and most with the same ideas that I have— and Dean and I have built couple friendships too, the kind where it’s dinners and trips as foursomes or a short Mexico cruise… not just me and my girlfriends. All of it counts. All of it matters.

The research backs this up

Researchers at the University of New Hampshire found that older adults without children are especially vulnerable to loneliness — but strong friendships filled that gap in a meaningful way. As one researcher put it, loneliness is a silent killer, and the antidote is recognizing it and doing something about it.

A large study using the Health and Retirement Study, tracking thousands of adults over 50 for more than a decade, confirmed that friendship and loneliness stay tightly connected as we age — if anything, it matters more with time, not less.

Researchers studying friendship patterns also found that how we stay close differs by gender: women often need real conversation and time talking, while men often bond more through shared activity. Neither is wrong — just different doors into the same room.

And a Lancet Healthy Longevity trial out of Hong Kong found that structured volunteering gave lonely older adults not just something to do, but a renewed sense of purpose and lasting connection. Purpose and people are tangled up together.

This isn’t just a nice sentiment. The research says it plainly: connection is protective, foundational, one of the biggest levers we have in our seventies.

5 Ways to Make Sure You Have Friends and Connection — Starting Today

1. Put it on the calendar like it’s a doctor’s appointment. Standing coffee, standing walk, Bunco night, Bocce league — treat it as non-negotiable, because it is.

2. Join something with a repeat schedule, not a one-time event. A single class won’t build a friendship — repetition does. My pickleball crew didn’t happen in one afternoon; it happened over four years of showing up to the same faces.

3. Be the one who reaches out first. So many women are waiting for someone else to make the first move — which means everyone is waiting. Send the text. Make the call. You might be the exact invitation someone else was hoping for.

4. Let new friendships be effortless before you expect them to be deep. New friendships need time to earn the trust old ones already have. Give it room. Depth comes later, stay private until later. And don’t… I mean don’t be the complainer (sad truth but new friends don’t need to hear it all yet.

5. Say yes before you’ve fully convinced yourself. The invitation to the class, the group, the couples’ dinner you don’t know anyone at yet — say yes before the voice in your head talks you out of it. Almost every friendship I have today, single or as a couple, started with a “yes” I almost didn’t give.

The bottom line

Tomorrow is not promised, so make today fabulous — and fabulous, at this stage of life, is rarely a solo act. Go find your tribe… Some you’ve had for decades. Some you haven’t met yet. Love, Gidget

Here’s something nobody tells you when you turn 70-something: the invitations slow down. Not because people stopped loving you. Life just gets busy, and busy people default to whoever’s already in the room.

So you can sit on the sofa and wait for the phone to ring. Or you can go first.

I’m not going to tell you to “change your mindset” and leave it there — that’s useless without specifics. So here are 7 real ideas. Four you can do today. Three you can start this month.

Today

1. Call the friend you’ve been meaning to call. Not a text — an actual call. Say, “I’ve been thinking about you, when can we get lunch?” Pick the date right then. Don’t leave it open-ended, because open-ended is where good intentions go to die.

2. Sign up for one class, before you feel ready. You will never feel ready. That’s not a you problem, that’s a human problem. I still don’t always want to get on my rebounder — some mornings the couch makes a very persuasive argument. But I signed up for pickleball before I felt “athletic enough,” and it turns out nobody at pickleball checks your credentials. Water aerobics, chair yoga, a walking group — pick one and sign up before you can talk yourself out of it.

3. Find one volunteer shift this week. Not a vague “I should volunteer someday” — an actual place, this week. The library needs shelvers. The shelter needs walkers. The hospital needs someone to sit with folks who don’t get visitors. The secret nobody advertises: it doesn’t just help them. It hands you a reason to get dressed on a Tuesday.

4. Stop keeping score of who invited you. Some gatherings, you won’t be the first call. The grandkids will make plans without you sometimes. That’s not always personal, and it’s not always going to change no matter how you feel about it. So decide right now: you’re not waiting on that invitation. You’re making your own.

This Month

5. Host something — cooking, cards, or crafts. This is the one that changed everything for me. If nobody’s starting the class or the club or the dinner, start it yourself. Teach three friends your mother’s recipe. Set up a craft afternoon at your kitchen table — nothing fancy, just glue guns and good coffee. Get a card game going on a night that isn’t already spoken for. You don’t need permission to be the one who plans the fun. You just need to send the first text.

6. Put a standing date on the calendar. One host, one host isn’t enough — make it recurring. A Sunday dinner. A Thursday card game. A monthly walk with the same friend. Standing plans survive busy weeks in a way that “let’s get together sometime” never does.

7. If it doesn’t work, try again with someone else. Sometimes you’ll reach out and it fizzles — the friend’s busy, the class gets cancelled, the shift wasn’t the right fit. That’s not a sign to quit. That’s just Tuesday. The women I know who are actually thriving in their 70s aren’t the ones who never struck out. They’re the ones who kept swinging.

Tomorrow is not promised, so make today fabulous. Not someday. Today — with one phone call, one sign-up sheet, one dinner you decided to host yourself.

Go first. The rest of us are waiting to be invited too. With Love, Gidget

I’ve seen the word “unretired” floating around lately — a Substack writer coined it, and the second I read it, I thought: well, that’s just me, isn’t it.

Here’s my story in a nutshell. I got my real estate license at 60 years old and planned on leaving a long term career…(it was 2007 and we all remember what happened then) I kept my day job for another 10plus years and retired in 2013. I also attended Interior Design School at night and became a certified home stager as well all in secret that was 2007. I’ve renewed my real estate license every four years since, which means I’ve been doing this for nearly two decades now, and I’m 78.

Retirement is supposed to be the reward, right? Kick your feet up, stop answering the phone, let the world figure itself out without you.

But here’s the truth, and I’m not going to sugarcoat it for the sake of a tidy inspirational quote: I love working and we need the supplemental income. Not in spite of my age — because of how my mind works. I need to be learning something new. Figuring out a problem the moment it lands in my lap and taking those trips that now cost twice as much among other cost increases over the years.

The Test I Wasn’t “Supposed” to Pass

Let’s talk about that licensing exam for a second, because I think about it more than you’d expect. Sixty years old, walking into a room full of people half my age — some a third my age — all of us cramming the same material. There’s a very specific kind of quiet pressure in that room. You can feel people wondering if the older folks are going to slow things down.

I slammed that test on the first try — no do-overs needed, thank you very much. Not because I was the smartest person in that room. Because I showed up prepared, and because I’ve never believed my age was a ceiling on what I could learn. It’s been a decade-plus of proving that same point over and over, one MLS update, one new app, one changed disclosure form at a time.

Technology Didn’t Scare Me Off — It Woke Me Up

Real estate has changed more in the last nineteen years than most industries change in fifty. Paper contracts became e-signatures. Flyers became listing videos. Now everybody wants to talk about AI tools and virtual tours and who knows what’s coming next year.

I could have treated all of that like a wall. Instead I treat it like a puzzle. Every new system, every new piece of software, every “ugh, now we have to learn this” moment from other agents — I genuinely enjoy it. I would be lying if I said there’s no stress or days it’s a challenge to keep a smile. But the satisfaction when I’m working out how to solve a tricky escrow issue or find the right home for a client who swears nothing on the market will work for them. My brain wants the puzzle. It always has.

Full-Time at 78, and No Apologies

Full-time, still, at 78 — helping people find their second home in the desert, walking snowbirds and retirees and women starting over on their own through one of the biggest decisions of their lives. It’s meaningful work, and it keeps my mind exactly where I want it: engaged, curious, useful.

So call it unretired. Call it re-careered, refusing-to-quit, whatever word fits best. I call it just living the way I always intended to — busy, sharp, and still saying yes to the next thing that needs figuring out.

I hope I can inspire you to get out there and go back to work no matter how old you are if that’s what you want and need?? It might not be real estate it could be writing or working in a beautiful dress shop (one of my dreams at one time) just go for it…Write me and let’s chat…Gidget Peterson aka on Youtube Grandma Gidget,

Hi, this is Gidget again. Last time, I told you why I keep a rebounder in my living room and how I fit it into my day. Today I want to get into the *why* — not just my own experience, but 5 benefits worth paying attention to…what’s actually going on in a body like mine (or yours) when we bounce.

I’m not a doctor or a medical professional in any way, I’m just someone at 78 who pays close attention to how her body feels, and who got curious enough to look into the research behind what I was already noticing. Here’s what I found.

#1 Benefit…Lymphatic Drainage…rebounding is often praised for stimulating the lymphatic system, since the up-and-down bouncing motion helps move lymph fluid through your body. I know, we won’t go into details but good to know.

**#2 Benefit Balance improves — measurably.** This is the big one for me. Studies on older adults have found that a few months of regular mini-trampoline exercise can improve the ability to regain balance by roughly a third..think about that!! That makes sense when you think about what bouncing actually asks of your body: every small landing forces your core and your inner ear to make tiny, constant corrections. That’s exactly the kind of practice that keeps a wobble from turning into a fall. A 2019 study of older women even found that light jumping and balance work on a mini-trampoline, done twice a week, improved balance, mobility, walking speed, and strength — and reduced their fear of falling.

*#3 Benefit*It’s gentle on stiff joints.** The mat does most of the absorbing, so you get real movement without the pounding that pavement or a hard gym floor gives your knees, hips, and lower back. If arthritis or joint stiffness has made you cautious about exercise, this is worth knowing.

*# 4 Benefit*It still helps your bones.** Even gentle bouncing puts a bit of gravitational load on your skeleton, and that’s the kind of weight-bearing signal bones need to stay strong. Weight-bearing exercise is one of the few things we can actually do to help protect against bone loss as we age, and rebounding manages to deliver that signal without the joint stress of running or jumping on hard ground.

*#5 Benefit*It’s safe — with the right setup.** This is where my handle comes back in. Holding on while I bounce or march means my focus stays on the movement, not on catching myself. If you’re considering a rebounder, I can’t recommend the handle enough. It’s not a crutch — it’s what makes the rest of the benefits accessible without the worry.

None of this requires becoming an athlete, I think of it as bouncing on my couch, wouldn’t that be fun…but it gives real benefits…. It requires ten or fifteen minutes, a couple of times a day, on something that’s already sitting in your living room (instead of the couch).

Next time, I’ll walk you through exactly what my routine looks like day to day — and why I’ve decided “senior” or “Elderly”isn’t a word I’m interested in using for myself.

Thank you for reading. If you’ve tried rebounding, or you’re curious to, I’d love to hear about it.

*— Gidget*

Hi, this is Gidget. If you’ve read anything of mine before, you know I don’t love the word “senior.” I’d rather be young at heart — and at 78, I still am.

A few months ago, I brought a rebounder into my home. If you’re not familiar, it’s a mini trampoline, and mine has one important addition: a handle. I’ll get to why that matters in a minute.

Here’s the thing about the rebounder that made it actually stick, when so many other pieces of exercise equipment haven’t: I put it in my living room, right next to my dining area. Not in a closet. Not in the garage. Right where I walk past it a dozen times a day.

That was deliberate. When something is out of sight, it’s out of mind — and it’s the easiest thing in the world to talk yourself out of a workout you have to dig for. When it’s sitting right there, there’s no excuse not to use it.

So that’s what I do. Most mornings, while I’m warming up and stretching before pickleball, I’ll jump on it for 10 to 15 minutes. It gets my muscles moving and my heart rate up before I even leave the house. Some afternoons, if I’ve got a show I’m catching up on, I’ll turn on the TV, hop on the rebounder, and just march in place for another 10 or 15 minutes. It’s not glamorous. I’m not doing tricks — I leave that to the 20-somethings who post rebounder videos online. I go at my own pace.

About that handle: I ordered a rebounder with one on purpose, because balance is something I take seriously. Holding on while I bounce or march means I can focus on the movement instead of worrying about my footing. Safety isn’t an afterthought for me — it’s the whole reason I’m still able to do this.

I also still play pickleball, walk when I can, do a TV workout program with my earbuds in, and lift free weights at the gym where I live. The rebounder isn’t a replacement for any of that. It’s just the piece that’s always within reach, on the days when “always within reach” is the difference between moving and not moving.

If there’s one thing I want you to take from this, it’s not “buy a rebounder.” It’s this: find the version of movement that lives where you already are, so that on your busiest or laziest day, there’s still no excuse.

In my next post, I’ll get into why rebounding in particular works so well for bodies our age — the balance, the bones, the joints, all of it. There’s real research behind why this simple piece of equipment has earned its spot in my living room.

Thank you so much for reading. I’d love to hear — what’s the thing that keeps you moving, at your own beautifully young-at-heart age?

— Gidget

At 78 years old, pickleball has become one of the greatest gifts in my life. Not because I’m the best player on the court—far from it—but because it keeps me moving, laughing, learning, and connected to people. In a world where many people my age begin slowing down, I’ve discovered that staying active is one of the secrets to feeling younger both mentally and physically. And honestly? I just love it.

One of the questions I get asked most is what I wear and how I prepare to play safely at my age. Good court shoes are non-negotiable for me because stability matters and protective eye glasses ALWAYS… they’re not pretty but either is a black eye or worse. I also wear lightweight tennis skirts that allow me to move comfortably in the desert heat, and I don’t care about my older legs. Before I ever step onto the court, I stretch my legs, shoulders, and back I do jump on my rebounder for 10-15 minutes or the treadmill at the gym if I have time. I’ve learned that warming up isn’t optional anymore—it’s part of staying in the game.

The mental side of pickleball surprised me the most. There are days when I doubt myself or feel frustrated if I’m not playing well. Sometimes I compare myself to younger players, and I have to remind myself that I’m not competing with them—I’m competing with the version of myself that might have stayed home on the couch. Learning new skills in your late 70’s takes patience and confidence. But every time I improve a shot, react faster, or simply keep up during a long rally, it gives me a little boost that carries into the rest of my life too.

What has helped me improve consistently is simply showing up. I play several days a week, and little by little, things start to click. I watch experienced players, I’m a groupie to Anna Leigh Waters on Pickleball TV and have attended as many pro tournaments as I can and actually met her and her mom a few times. I ask questions, take clinics when I can, and practice the basics over and over. I’ve learned that improvement at any age isn’t about perfection—it’s about consistency. Even on days when I don’t feel especially energetic, I almost always leave the court feeling better than when I arrived

.

But the very best part of pickleball has nothing to do with the score. It’s the friendships. The laughter between games. The people cheering each other on. At this stage of life, connection matters deeply, and pickleball has given me a wonderful community. We encourage each other, celebrate birthdays, laugh about bad shots, and simply enjoy being together. For me, pickleball isn’t just exercise—it’s joy, friendship, confidence, and proof that life can still be active and exciting in your late 70’s. Later I’ll talk about my pickiness about who I play with, I’ve found that with a game that ends at 11 you have a choice to move around and find your best comfortable partners just like life.

“Have you ever tried pickleball—or is there something new you started later in life that changed you?”