Sunday, July 28, 2013

Confessions

In 11 years I will be eligible to retire from my job.  Now, I don't know if I will be ready to retire at that age or not -- my modest little house won't quite be paid for, and I don't have anyone to help me with the bills, not to mention the fact that I won't be eligible for useful retirement benefits until I'm 70 1/2.  They might be itching to move me out in favor of someone with a much lower salary.  

It's certainly not how I had thought things would go at this point in my life, but as I've learned, it doesn't do me much good to do any life planning.  Smaller things, such as travel, I'm very well suited for planning.  Especially traveling light, with just carryons.  ;)

Actually, I've been thinking about a post-retirement career, and I haven't come up with anything satisfying that I'm qualified to do.  Oh sure, anybody can go work in a store, but that doesn't take two degrees to do, and there's nothing satisfying about dealing with the public.  (Years of experience, LOL). 

I'm open for suggestions.  Ideally, I want to do something creative and artistic, but then again, I feel as though I need some more education in art.  I could see myself working in graphic design, though I'm not formally trained for it. 

There's always fiction writing.  God knows I've been lied to enough to copy other people's lying patterns and spin them into quite the tale.  Sometimes it does take me a little while to catch on that I'm being lied to, but hey, I won't make their confession for them.  If they want absolution, they can get it elsewhere and do their penance.  I'm not in a forgiving mood lately.

I've got to work on being less of an introvert.  The older I get, the more rotten I see that people in general are and it makes me hesitant to seek out the few good people there might be left.  Trust is a major issue for me.  The ones I've trusted most have been the quickest ones to betray me.  I'm afraid their nature might be contaminating -- biting, scratching, clawing, and stomping on other people to get their heart's own selfish desire.  Some little bit of that can be attributed to survival instinct, but humans think that in order to survive, they need to be looking and spitting down on a mass of plebs beneath them.  

Chemically, we are all quite the same carbon-based life forms, though I realize there are some self-proclaimed "better people" who have deluded themselves into thinking they are platinum-based.  Perhaps plutonium-based would be a better description, because they're more destructive than anything else.  

Eh, you'll have to just forgive me.  I was awakened by the sounds of a screaming and howling squabble that brought itself into my yard and the one next door.  *sigh*  Why they have to drag the neighbors into it, I don't know.  I've seen it before.  This time it was just the aftermath I had to hear.  There's just too much drama always being stirred. It's tiring.  

It's time to start planning for my trip to Ireland next year.  I know what you're thinking -- it sounds a bit OCD, but planning now ensures no last-minute rushing around trying to find what I need.  Honestly,this  town is so backwater these days that online ordering for basic supplies is becoming increasingly necessary.  It takes a while for some things to arrive, and I want to modify my luggage, which will take some time to do.  I'll also have someone traveling with me this time, and he might need a few tips. Fortunately he is much bigger and stronger than me, so he will be able to carry his own luggage.  ;)

Confession: My packing will involve collecting travel underwear -- undies that are only good for one more wear, or are just too ragged to be seen by another human.  (My dog doesn't seem to care.  He's rather oblivious about undergarments.) Possibly even stuff that will be too big for me by then, because with my weight loss, my underwear has "gotten larger".  :D. 

I realized recently that I have several pairs of socks which could be mended, but I'd be embarrassed for other people to see... Unless I'm never going to see them again anyway.   They're going in my travel bag.  My colleague who will be leading this expedition already knows my clothing disposal plan, and intends to do the same himself, so I know he won't care that I'm wearing and then leaving threadbare socks in Paris, Dublin, or London.  Hey, I left big chunks of my skin in Venice, after all. I'm not sure, but I think that I don't have scars from those massive wounds.  

I bought wine and liqueur in glass bottles in Italy, and wrapped them in my dirty laundry and tied them with crochet thread I had brought along to make mesh shopping bags with.  Oh, my shopping bags were VERY handy in Europe.  I put all my purchases and water bottles in mine and just carried it all over my shoulder, hands free.  :) I gave one as a gift to our guide.  Working on them gave me something to do when I was bored on the bus (or waiting for it), and occasionally gave me something to talk about. :)  

It was also a way of taking a bit of my mother to Italy with me.  I know she would have liked to have gone, but at least I was able to take something of hers with me.  It was in the upper church of the Basilica of St. Francis in Assisi that I broke down, because one of the murals reminded me so much of what it was like when she died.  It was so similar to what my mother's bedroom looked like, with just the two of us.  She could not speak, but I heard her anyway.  She wasn't wearing her hearing aid, but I know she heard what I told her.  Some things you just know -- the message gets through despite the fact that the hearer has been nearly deaf her entire life.

I think this time I will take a few crocheted bags already made and have something to give to people that I meet.  :)  I didn't have enough time traveling to make more than two while I was there, but that's okay.  I would rather see the sights than have my nose buried in a crochet project.  :D


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