Welcome to The Retired Beaver Club where we like to say, “No wood? No worries!” 

How It All Began…

The Retired Beaver Club started the way all great ideas do—with an inappropriate joke from my parents.

Picture this: My mom climbs into the car in a dress and says, “I’ve gotta be careful not to shoot the beave when I get out!”

Without missing a beat, my dad smirks and says, “Doesn’t matter anyway. Your beaver’s dead.”

Romance, right?

When I heard this story, I laughed so hard I nearly spit out my coffee.

What started as “the beaver’s dead” morphed into something a little less morbid, a lot more fabulous:
The Beaver’s Retired.

And just like that, a movement was born. A club for women who’ve hung up their thongs, locked the vault, and are proudly living their best, wood-free lives—with sass, wine, and zero apologies.

So welcome to The Retired Beaver Club™—where we toast to the glory days, laugh at the absurdity of it all, and fully embrace a life of early retirement (at least for the beaver).