It’s official. I’m retiring in 168 more school days. I set up a benefit & pension meeting at the end of September, but regardless of the news I receive I’m ready for my swan dive. Hopefully it will be into the deep end of the ocean and not a shallow pond. I’ve been calculating my pension and various retirement funds for the last decade. The financial advisor in my mind (played by Bill Nighy) assures me that my financial house if imperfect, is at least not built of straw or sticks and that I have a better than average chance of solvency through my 90’s provided I can avoid any catastrophes, natural disasters, identity theft, investment scams, or pyramid schemes. I’m not sure what to make of his late-night advice, yet it comforts me. Somewhat.
Either way, I will join the ranks of the other working stiffs on their morning commutes no more. While I’m still young enough and mobile enough to enjoy not working, I shall do so!
Also, I made sangria for the first time and it was delicious.
My cobbled together recipe. I made 2 pitchers in a week and in one I put berries, and in another apples. Not much lime in either. I find it gets better with age!
When I retire I will plant sunflowers and begin to tame the wild ruckus of garden. Someday a bench will be added to the very bottom behind the olive tree so I can sit under the darkening sky and be a quiet observer of the birds settling. Watch the spiders crocheting their silk nets.
But since I will be observing more than tending, it will remain a jumble. Maybe I will finally have time to remove the spider webs from various ornamental hanging things. Or not.
The middle-aged mammmals Art Camp by the Sea where we all live in single-wides with decks and gingham curtains swaying in the salty ocean air will have to wait for a bit, but I have not forgotten.
First I need to spend more time at Moss Cottage in the state of not working. I will not schedule my days as that is not my way. Instead I will drift from one patch of sunshine to the next, like Otto & Iris. Mostly I will enjoy not performing child care. I will leave that to future generations of teachers and parents. Mind your own children! My days of task mastering, solving problems, working in small groups, grading papers, testing, being observed and monitored, attending faculty meetings, and being a referee will be over.
I will live in a state of unknowing. The next step will reveal itself slowly. I’ll wait for the transmissions to come across the wires and when they are received I will act! But only then.
on my bookshelf
I continue in my theme of vintage reads that I began in August. I enjoyed The Bookshop so much that I found 2 more thrifted titles by Penelope Fitzgerald. If I like them, I’ll share on an upcoming post. The Enchanted Barn was written in 1917 and is a feel-good story about a poor family who move into a barn. I found it absorbing. The ease with which I read it helped to propel me out of a reading rut. No comparison of course to The Bookshop which was shortlisted for a Booker prize, but had a v.v.v. unsatisfactory ending. Still, I loved it! If you catch the movie on Apple TV it is very fine indeed and the ending is ten thousand times better. There is a small quiet scene between Florence and Mr. Brundish that is exquisite.
The Los Angeles Book was written in the 50’s and chronicles a young, expanding city. Fascinating! I should have included photos (next time).
This vase from a local flower shop almost ended up in the recycle bin, but in the end I decided it would make a great container for some of my shore finds.
It’s Crepe Myrtle season in LA. There is no end to inspiring walks in gardens. The Huntington palms cast long shadows late in the afternoon and under the fan canopies are mysterious dark shadows where one can linger.
Keep me posted on your whereabouts and whatabouts. I’ll just be here on the porch with the fan and a book. I’m all ears on your retirement or relocation stories and dreams. And if you’ve ever stayed at the El Tovar lodge on the rim of the Grand Canyon let me know.
“The world is full of magical things patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.”
-Bertrand Russell
