A big day: February 6, 2015…


The cat is out of the bag, the horse has left the barn, water has passed beneath the bridge, et al.

Come February 2015, it’ll be time to move on with things. Ellen and Reid were the first to know.

———————–

June 9, 2014

Ellen/Reid: We’re coming down the home stretch for Wyoming, and the grind to get ready continues. My legs, though, are dead from the workouts. I can feel it right off the bat as soon as I step onto the elliptical machine. One sign of the physical stress is that my working pulse is elevated a little bit at the start of the day’s sweat equity. I take my pulse every five minutes and I max out about 155 beats per minute. Not bad. It’s just the tired legs that are disconcerting. I haven’t felt sluggishness like this since my marathoning days. Perhaps it is that I am a little dehydrated?

So I’m scurrying around after my first early morning work assignment as I get ready to head out the door to the Y. Off I go, make both lights and have clear sailing to the Y five minutes away on Sharon Road. I score a primo parking spot, lock the car and head to the door. Only then did I realize I’m still in a pair of beat up loafers. So after a brief but silent self-cursing, I head back to the car and onward to home to retrieve my Asics and a pair of socks. Then it’s back to the Y – this time, I don’t make the lights – and the close-to-the-door parking space is long gone. The Camry is now parked in almost the furthest away lot. Your dad is a ditz.

My pushcart and I got along just fine walking 18 hot, muggy holes on hilly courses both days this weekend. And I wonder why my legs are dead.

My pushcart and I got along just fine walking 18 hot, muggy holes on hilly courses both days this weekend. And I wonder why my legs are dead.

Along those lines, my legs are in the final stages of throwing off a case of poison ivy contracted from the golf course. Amazing how quickly it spread but the worst is past. It was everything I could do not to ‘scratch where it itches’ so that minimized the damage. I steered clear of the foliage this past weekend.

Well, I’ve made an announcement of sorts. I don’t know how we got on the topic, but I told my boss that my retirement is February 8. Actually, since the 8th falls on a Sunday next year, it will likely be Friday, February 6. Actually, it feels good, a relief even, to have made the declaration although it wasn’t a snap decision by any means. He said this needed to become some sort of event and I tried to toss cold water on that concept right away. I don’t need anything done on that score. Truth be told, I’m ready to see what else lies ahead. There’s a lot that needs to be done, as you know, and the clock is ticking. Forget all this rocking chair stuff. He mentioned travel to see you two (correct), fishing (correct), golf (correct) and riding my bike (correct). There’s a book in there somewhere and maybe it will be liberated once some attention can be turned fully in its direction. I’m sure there’s even more out there for the doing so we’ll see how all this pans out. There’s a web site link that shows the shortest path to touch ground in all of the lower 48 states. That sounds like a fun path to cruise on the old girl at 55 mph on side roads.

The front porch romaine lettuce crop is as good as any I’ve planted, and the basil is growing like a weed (I wonder if is basil really might be a weed?). All of a sudden, it has turned hot and muggy here. The sweat rolls off me as I work my way toward the car. There’s no real getting used to the stickiness and damp, thick air. We had some heavy rain yesterday and it made the streets steam once the sun came back out.

So now you know the big announcement. That’s enough news for today. I’ll start a new list today for next week’s letter. Heck there might even be some follow up news. Later, gators.

Love, Dad

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