A Little More

I haven't bought the book, but I'm living the dream. It sometimes seemed as if the day would never arrive, but guess what? On August 5, I made my final drive home from work and am now officially retired.

Despite the retirement luncheon (lovingly referred to by co-workers as my Last Supper), and a lovely retirement dinner with family and friends, things haven't quite sunk in yet. Truth be told, so far it only feels like I'm on vacation. You know, when you tack a couple of PTO days to the weekend and just relax? However, relaxing hasn't entered the picture. I've been scrambling to work on a to-do list of projects as though my time-off hours were dwindling to a precious few. I wonder if Chapter 1 of the above book deals with moving down a notch from the level of manic panic? Maybe I should buy the book after all.

I am excited. Retirement is the beginning of a whole new life chapter which I hope to tackle little by little. In other words, I'll write a little more, read a little more, accomplish a little more, and enjoy life a little more. Sigh. Sounds like the perfect plan, doesn't it?

"Gainfully unemployed. Very proud of it, too."
                                          ~Charles Baxter

Paw Prints in Time

Indy sleeps a lot. His legs twitch and I wonder if he's dreaming of the days when he used to chase tennis balls and go for long walks around the lake. Now he stumbles when he walks and sometimes stands perfectly still in the middle of a room as though bewildered over just where he could be.

He turned 15 years old in March and I know our time together is growing short. Maybe I've been selfish letting him go on as long as I have, but every time I consider making The Call, he perks up and I see a trace of him from his puppy days.

Last weekend I bought some clay, worked it out nice and flat, and then pressed Indy's paw down into the surface. It wasn't the best impression ever made. Indy didn't much care for the process and I hate to overly annoy an old guy who wants nothing more than to nap in a warm sunny spot. Before baking the clay, I put a hole in the top of the piece so it can be hung as an ornament or in a window. 

I figured as long as I had the clay, I might as well do an impression for Bogey, too. Capturing his print wasn't any more popular.

Maybe I'll try again another day. Or maybe not. Who needs perfect?

I suppose my clay pieces are a lot like real life, filled with bumps, irregularities, and occasional wishes for a do-over. But there's something sweet about them, too. The clay is a reminder it doesn't matter what life throws at me. When I see the face of a child, bask in the beauty of a cloudless day, or hold on to the endless love and loyalty of a dear old friend, I get a rare privilege. That's when I understand, just a tiny bit, what it must be like to glimpse heaven.