|What comes next?
||[Jul. 28th, 2012|08:11 am]
Early spring has sprung, and I'm ready to contemplate again.|
It has been a year and a half since I've posted. Not sure anyone else is reading, and as always, not sure I care. I can't read my own handwriting, and it is quicker for me to type than to write. And I'm willing to share my solipsism.
Right here, right now: I can just see my breath, but I'm sitting on the back deck because the coffee is warming me up. Our friend the landscaper has made a lovely raised bed, and I'm contemplating starting again with an herb garden. I'm just recovering from what has become my bi-annual bout of bronchitis. I know I need to treat my asthma more seriously, but I've always subscribed to the 'ignore it and hope it goes away' school of medical treatment.
I'll be 50 next May. Last night, I shocked PG and myself by saying that I'll be ready to retire end of 2016, when I'm 53. What I meant by that is: if I get the current job I'm angling for, which is a contract and runs until the end of 2016, I'll have achieved all I need to achieve in my current career, and I'll be ready to do something else. And maybe downsize a bit. Maybe move back to Canada, even if there isn't the right job there.
The Boy is launched: he loves uni, he's in love with a lovely girl, and he lives in Canada and I miss him dreadfully. The Girl was in a pretty bad school play called Captain Stirrick last night, but as always, she was pretty good. Like her uncle, she's a natural actor, and unlike my brother, so self-confident. She'll do well. So I'm ready to start on 'crone'. One of the heartbreakers of the recent trip back to Canada is that I can't hang around with my great niece more. I'm ready to be someone's nana. I'm ready to be a little less career-defined.
For now, shopping and laundry today, like every Saturday. Open House Melbourne - I want to tour the central cemetary. My lovely but very conventional French lodger can't understand why I love cemetaries, but I do. Probably a quiet evening - I need to completely recover and then maybe exercise my lungs again (as my lovely young no-nonsense doctor suggested).
I'm ready for the next big thing.