Spring started with an all-day snow. It was beautiful, but better enjoyed inside than out. The first daffodils sagged under the weight of the heavy, wet snow. Today it's all melted and the daffodils have perked up again.
RETIREMENT: Last day of full-time work was Friday. Sunday, Sabryin and I took a class with Jessie Lawson, one awesome artist who specializes in paintings and collages featuring kittehs. She's got a shop on Etsy and you will find it delightful! As usual, I neglected to take my camera but it was so much fun and so energizing and inspiring.
Today is my first day of not working full-time. I'm actually "on vacation," but I've already placed an order for office supplies, changed the supervisor for one of the students, and answered/forwarded a score of e-mails. That's my way. Don't criticize. Whatever makes the transition smoother, right?
What I can't get used to are the neighbors' dogs. Why don't people train their dogs to bark only when there is an intrusion? Oh, yes, I know: LAZINESS. Open the door in the morning, out they go and out they stay, barking barking all the way. The difference between a "pet" and a DOG: pets get walked, their humans play games with them, occasionally you will see a human in the pet's venue. DOGS JUST BARK. NOBODY CARES ABOUT THEM. THEY'RE JUST DOGS, not pets.
Have raspberry canes and asparagus to plant and I imagine it's going to be a battle between me and THE DOG for supremacy in the back yard. Sorry, but I'm going to win, even if I have to intervene with the lack of human attention he gets. Patty speaks.
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Kitteh Belleh is the most effective and organic anti-depressant I know! Bhu Belleh is a prime example! This weekend I have been suffering from the Functionary Blues and I got it BAD! I usually reserve this space for happy little chipper messages about life with Bhu, but today I will bore everyone with a sad little tale of woe: What will I do with the rest of my life?
Last summer I had lunch-side conversation with friends Corelots and Ann. Ann, retired for about two years at the time, was pursuing free-lance art gigs. Recently, she moved from NYC to a lovely resort town in the mountains of Mexico, a place known for its arts and crafts scene. I asked Corelots, currently a professor, what she intended to do after retirement. This question was not popular, but a reasonable response (tutor) ensued. Corelots (San Francisco) and Ann come back here in the summer to visit a friend who used to be a professor, but who moved back and became an artist and currently co-owns an art gallery. I don't know if "became" is the right word; many of us ARE artists who have had to work as functionaries just to pay the bills. Wages are a drug to which we easily become addicted. It might be stressful, but it's easy and certain: If I do the time, I get the paycheck.
So I am sitting around my house this weekend pondering that question: what will I do? Not "How shall I play?" but "What will I DO?" Cook, clean, launder, iron, pay bills, reconcile bank accounts, go to market, garden, run errands, do chores, make quilts, make other things to sell to people (maybe art), open a booth at the Farmer's Market, pet Bhu.
"Yes, petz me. Petting me is good fur ur soul." xxoo