Keeping Busy?

Re-Tired!

My husband and I reluctantly crawled out of bed at 8:00 a.m. this morning - that's sleeping in for us.  He walked the dogs.  I made coffee and got the kitchen fire going and on his return from the walk we both settled into our usual daily routine - me checking Face Book, e-mail, and playing Words With Friends, husband jumping from news station to news station on the net.  Made pancakes and commented on how tired we were and before you know it there we were, side by side on our love-seat recliner, sound asleep.          

Retired is a good word for the switch from the working world to the realm of seniorhood.  But it's not quite spelled right.  Re-tired would be more accurate.  So here I am, in my 7th year of re-tirement, feeling tired, and laughing to myself over a question a friend asked recently.  "So, how is it being retired," she said.  "Do you manage to keep busy?  Are you enjoying it?"  Now this friend is looking forward to retiring from one of those jobs that keeps her brain working hard, keeps her in the public eye, and is making a difference.  She loves her work.  At least that's how I read her.  I have a feeling she will have a hard time letting go.  I also loved my job, and felt I was making a difference, but was so ready to reconnect with my life before working out, our beautiful farm, our little paradise in the woods, so ready that I've never missed the workplace at all.

And keeping busy? Hahahahaha.  Chores are ever present of course - breakfast, dishes, lunch, laundry, supper, straightening-up, re-creating a semblance of order, shopping, keeping the fire going, vacuuming, etc. - all lumped under the umbrella called housework.  There's the morning internet interaction, my blog, Netflix, reading a good book, the frequent inflow and outflow of guests for coffee, a meal, a beer or a glass of "Mary Lynn's Fabulous HoneyBerry or Raspberry Wine", and visiting family down south. And then there's the music.  Music is a huge part of my life, playing mandolin and singing while my husband plays banjo.  There's the "band" too, our garage band, our circle of friends that we practice with, our friends that we jam with, the laughs, philosophies and good times we share.  I can be ready for bed one minute and ready to play music for hours the next.  It's intoxicating in itself. Four nights in a row we picked, strummed and sang, and of course had some of "Mary Lynn's Fabulous HoneyBerry or Raspberry Wine".  Music is why today is so tired.  Music is an awesome reason to be (re)tired.

Seasonal stuff - every season has it's extra added something to add to "busy". Christmas is a huge time commitment, as huge as I want to make it.  Not just shopping for gifts, and not a lot of decorating - mostly parties, baking, friends.  Once past New Years and a couple of birthdays I sink into my annual financial accounting, trying to do a month each day.  Not long after there's making ready for lambing, then lambing itself, record keeping, keeping the lambs healthy, maybe a bottle baby or two, then shearing.  Spring and summer there's the garden in all its phases from seeds in the ground to food on the table, jars and freezer bags, carrots in peat moss, potatoes in the root cellar.  Autumn is wine making season and, as the days shorten, a type of hibernation begins to set in, culminating in the winter solstice when it all begins again.  And so it goes, the circle of life.

So retirement, as far as I'm concerned, is mainly a joy. It may take a day of Netflix marathoning interspersed with naps to recover from ODing on parties or just plain being super busy.  A trip to the city may wear you out for a time.  You may take a bit longer to recover from a bug you caught from the grand kids.  You may have a hitch or two in your git-along.  But these are all related to that circle.  You're born, become a youngster, a teen, a woman (man), middle aged, elderly, and finally you're gone.  A gradually receding memory of you (and maybe even some of your electrical energy) remains behind to nurture succeeding generations.  Who knows, some day my great great great grandchild may search out her ancestry and discover this strange mando pickin' lady who left the city and went back to the land oh so many years ago.