Tag: retirement

Daylight Retired Time

I’ve now been retired almost six months. If it hadn’t been for physical therapy and medical appointments, I would have no idea what day of the week it is.  (I’d also be somewhere warm, but that’s another story.) As for daylight savings time, who cares? The worst thing about standard time was riding to or from work (and for a couple of weeks each year both to and from) in the dark. Since I now get to determine where I go and when, the clock is of little concern.

Today, however, was a little different. I wanted to do some minor chores around the house, do my physical therapy, watch the Nats spring training game on TV, and go for a bike ride. I didn’t have time to squeeze my ride in before the game. But wait. It’s daylight savings time. I did the physical therapy and chores in the morning. Then I watched the game at 1 p.m. It was over by 4 p.m. and I had 3 1/2 hours of daylight left. And that’s not all; it was warmer in the afternoon than it was before the game. So I rode 24 1/2 miles afterwards.

My apologies to my bike commuting friends who will ride to work in the cold dark pre-dawn hours tomorrow. You’re tough. I’ll be thinking of you when I roll over in bed. Daylight Retired Time is hard.

 

 

A Winter Retirement Day by the Book

My schedule for a winter retirement day is pretty simple. In no particular order: eat breakfast, read the paper, ride my bike (or go for a hike), do either physical therapy (a.k.a. yoga) or go to the gym to lift weights, read a book or magazine, meditate, and do one adult thing.

So today I began with a half mile walk to the hospital where I had a CT scan on my lungs and an echocardiogram. I’ll count these as one adult thing. After an administrative snafu I got signed in and escorted to the CT scan room. There I was passed under the machine once. Then I was injected with a dye and passed through again as the dye sent eerie warmth through my chest and head. (I really should do this stoned at least once.) Done. It only took five minutes.

The CT tech took me to ultrasound where I was given my echocardiogram. I was positioned on my left side allowing me to watch the screen as the exam took place. The tech told me my blood pressure which was well within the normal range (as usual). She also told me my resting heart rate was 45. This is the first time since my DVT/pulmonary embolism crisis that it has been below 65. To me this is great news because my pulse is normally in the 40s. As I watched I could see the line for my heart going boing…thud……..boing…thud and so on. At one point there was audio. My heart sounds pretty cool. DOO…duh…..DOO…duh. I am pretty sure that my former co-worker Kelly would confirm that this is the only part of my body that has good rhythm.

The tech cheated a bit and told me that  my heart looked and functioned normally during my December echocardiogram. She was not surprised that it still did. That’s one organ less to worry about as far as I am concerned.

I walked home in a cold wind and ate breakfast and read the paper. There was ample coverage of the Super Bowl which I thought was great even though my team lost. We can now move on to the winter Olympics and make a smooth seque into Spring Training. Yes, yes, yesyesyes.

After my repast, I headed back out into the cold wind for a bike ride. I had on my normal winter bike commuting stuff: skating cap, heavy-weight neck gaiter, base layer, holey sweater, rain pants, and neoprene overboots. I was comfortable within a mile.

I headed south past Mount Vernon and Fort Belvoir. I used the bike lane on US 1, a busy four-lane highway. I wanted to see how my mirror would work. It did fine. There were literally no surprises in that I saw every car, truck, and bus well before it was close to me. I turned north on Telegraph Road, the kind of totally inane roadway that Fairfax County is known for. Lanes come and go seemingly without rhyme or reason. Bike lanes also come and go. I came flying down a hill at 35 miles per hour in a bike lane. It was a good thing I came to a red light because 100 yards beyond the light, the bike lane disappeared.

I rode all the way to the Beltway, took a right to go east on Huntington Avenue, and headed south on Fort Hunt Road where I stopped after 25 miles to go to the gym. For some reason my left arm is unhappy. It shoots sharp pains whenever I lift a weight above my head or push one away from me. Even though I use very light weight on two machines that move in this manner, my arm still hurts. I’ll bring this up with my doctor during my physical later this week.

Finally, I rode 4 miles home into the cold wind. It was nearing 4 p.m. but the sun was still well above the horizon. We are now getting about the same amount of daylight as in early November. Works for me.

When I arrived home, I had a snack and a shower. Then I sat down to meditate. And the phone rang again and again. It was Verizon calling with an offer for its mindfulness long distance plan. (I made that up.)

All that’s left is some filing of medical stuff including beaucoup CDs and DVDs of my scans. Then I can read and eat dinner and call it a successful retirement day.

And one more thing. My wife told me about this really cool National Geographic travel package. It takes you all around the world to Machu Pichu and the Holy Land and Burma and Paris and everywhere in between. On a private jet. Just $99,000 per person.

Spit take.

 

Watchin’ the Wheels

I’ve been retired almost four months now. I have been asked “How’s retirement?” dozens of times. In a way it’s a bit of a pointless question. If it sucked I’d be unretired.

Last night this exchange happened several times at a holiday party I attended. I gave a flippant response until I found Klarence.

As readers of this blog may recall, Klarence is a pseudonym for a friend of mine who “fixed” me two and a half years ago. After dealing with depression for months and months, I sat down with Klarence for a drink after work. (Klarence had no idea that I was troubled.) It led to a four hour, brutally honest, one-on-one encounter session. Along the way, Klarence made me laugh and nearly brought me to tears. When we parted, I felt like she had lifted an enormous burden from me. I don’t think she had intentions of doing this; she was just being her true self. I walked away flabbergasted by my good fortune. And forever grateful to her.

We met three years ago at the same holiday gathering. So I made it a point to look for her last night. I almost walked right past her until she called my name. (Ironically, it was also Klarence who told me about my malfunctioning fusiform gyrus, a part of the brain that deals with facial recognition.)

We hugged our usual fierce hug (because that’s what you do with somebody who saves you from months of absolute misery) and then she asked with a serious look on her face:

“How’s retirement?”

It hit my mind like a club. It staggered me. I was tongue tied.

I don’t even remember what I said in response.

From day one, Klarence has had an effect on me. Her bluntness and honesty somehow compel me to ponder her words.

And I pondered.

Suppose you asked a kid “How’s childhood?” He’d say “Okay, I guess.” In a sense, retirement is like childhood; it is what it is. It’s an endless stream of Saturdays. You can read the paper in the morning. You can sleep in. You can do what you want, when you want. You can wear your jammies all day long. All of this is pretty damned sweet.

Of course, my earnings dropped by 70 percent but you can’t have everything – especially now! This aspect is a little unsettling, but I live a very modest life.

There is a sense that asking someone “How’s retirement?” is a bit like asking a Ph. D. student, “How’s the thesis?” Or a 21-year old, “So what are you going to do with your life?”

AYYYYYY!

It brings on a sort of performance anxiety. Especially for someone like me who has lived with imposter syndrome his whole life.

I have another friend who used to give me unease because she seemed to want to fill every second of every day mindfully accomplishing something that would bring her happiness and be somehow meaningful for humanity. I don’t socialize with her anymore. She was stressing me out.

So here’s an answer that maybe is a little more honest than the inarticulate response I gave to Klarence last night.

Retirement is being free of working on projects that suck your soul.

Retirement is not having to work to arbitrary deadlines that shift with the wind.

Retirement is not having to ride to work when it’s dark and rainy and 33 degrees with a 15 mile per hour headwind. (Yes, this happened a few times every year.)

Retirement is setting your own schedule. Answering to your own inner boss. Filling your day with things you find personally fulfilling and that are true to who you are like:

  • Riding my bike in the daylight.
  • Taking care of my aging carcass by lifting weights.
  • Taking care of my mental health by meditating for 20 or 30 (or, like today, 45) minutes and not feeling guilty.
  • Trying rather comically to learn a little guitar (and avoiding tennis elbow in the process).
  • Reading books without interruption. (Current book: The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins)
  • Spending two days in court to lend moral support to some friends – who introduced me to Klarence three years ago. (This is called paying it backward, I think.)
  • Volunteering and attending bicycling advocacy events.
  • Planning the next big thing. (How hard is it to ride to the Pacific anyways?)

Where does this all lead? Does it accomplish a big thing? Does it make my life worthwhile? Will I make a big ego-boosting mark on the world so my life will be one big selfie? Is it okay not to give a flying fuck?

For now, I am content and truly grateful to abide by the words of John Lennon:

I’m just sittin’ here watching the wheels go round and round. I really love to watch them roll.

And to say, once again, thank you, Klarence.

 

 

Work? No, Thanks. I’m Busy.

I received a job offer yesterday. I think I’ll pass. I am busy being retired. My typical day goes something like this:

  • Read newspaper over breakfast. Defeat Sudoku and the crossword.
  • Play on social media sites.
  • Do one productive thing such as go to the doctor, get the car inspected, get my haircut, mow the lawn, volunteer, etc.
  • Go for a bike ride.
  • Go to gym (three days a week) or do physical therapy (basically, a short yoga session).
  • Meditate for 20 – 30 minutes.
  • Practice guitar. (I just started. By the time I am 110 years old I’ll be able to play The House of the Rising Sun.)
  • Read. (My family bans me from buying books in the weeks leading up to Christmas, Father’s Day, and my birthday. So I raided my daughter’s bookshelf.) I am currently reading Water for Elephants.
  • Listen to a Podcast once or twice a week. I follow 10 Percent Happier.
  • Write an insipid blog. (You are reading it.)
  • Write in my journal. (You are not reading it.)
  • Watch something on TV or Netflix. Or listen to music.

Well, it felt like I was busy…

After breakfast, I made a to-do list for the day.

I rode 13 miles to the Lincoln Memorial. I was going to ride to the gym which is only four miles away but the weatherman said it would start raining about 1 pm and I wanted to get a warm dry ride in.

Of course, it didn’t rain. So I rode back to the gym. Because of new nerve problems in my legs, I decided to lay off the leg machines. Instead of doing two circuits on all the machines, I did three circuits on the upper body and core machines. This was probably not a good idea. For a start, my right foot went numb after I used the first machine (a shoulder raise gizmo).

I stuck with my plan. I arrived a little before 11 am. The people in the weight room were all business. There was no chatter, no sitting around. So I made it out of there by 1 pm without having to wait at all.

My upper body was a tad annoyed with me. I could hear my biceps saying “You are such an asshole” all the way home on Little Nellie.

Gym and bike ride done!

Next came lunch. Then a clock reset-a-thon. I have four bike computers, three different kinds. So I had to find out how to do the deed without obliterating other settings. After about 1/2 hour I succeeded. In the process, I saw that my computers have over 112,000 miles on them. Whoa.

Reset the bike computers. Done!

Next up were the clocks in the cars. Done!

Then I took a picture of a foundation wall crack in the back of the house and emailed it to a contractor who knows about such things. He emailed me back to tell me to keep and eye on the cracks. They are probably caused by the marine clay soil under the house drying out from the summer with very little rain. I am taking his advice because I can do nothing like a champ.

Deal with foundation cracks. Done!

Laundry was next. Done!

Bill paying. Done!

Check book balancing. Done!

I meditated for 30 minutes. Done!

The only things I haven’t done are shredding (our file cabinet is bursting at the seams) and read my Fredrik Backman book.

So what do you do when you retire? All the crap that you cram into the evenings.

Still, it didn’t feel like I accomplished much.

I’ll try again tomorrow.

 

I Should Have Practiced More

Retirement is hard. I’m having trouble getting into the flow. Take today, for example. I completely forgot that it’s Friday. On Friday’s I get up really early and ride to Friday Coffee Club. I slept until 7:45. Then I made a pot of coffee, sat down to a bowl of cereal, and read the paper. Mrs. Rootchopper walked into the kitchen and said, “No Friday Coffee Club?”

Fail.

In my defense, it is that time of year when the low humidity and cool temperatures make for perfect sleeping. In the aftermath of the bike tour and with my rib still healing, my body just wants rest. So I am feeding the beast.

Each day, though, I have a plan to do one or two specific things. On Tuesday it was volunteer at WABA in the evening. Don’t tell Greg but we didn’t get a damned thing done once Kristin cracked open the tequila. Anyway, since the WABA office is 16 miles from home, volunteering also means a pretty decent bike ride. (On the way home I encountered several people headed to the High Heel Race in Dupont Circle. I didn’t want to say anything but I think some of these women were, um, not. Women, that is. A couple could play wide out for pro football teams. And they could go a little lighter on the make up and sequins. Just saying.)

Today, after waiting for the temperature to rise, I rode the Cross Check to the Lincoln Memorial. Just because. And it was super nice out. And the trees are turning. Like this one across the river from the Memorial.

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On the way home I pulled over to record another odometer milestone.

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Not bad.

I’ll put the Cross Check away for a few weeks and give my other bikes some attention.

Once I got home, I mowed the lawn. Mowing the lawn feels like you are accomplishing something even when you really aren’t.

Then I went inside and did something I’ve been meaning to do since I got home. During my bike tour to Key West, hurricane Maria made landfall on the Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico. Two of my BikeDC friends (who, incidentally, don’t know each other) are from Puerto Rico. They each spent many anxious days not knowing the fate of their families. (From what I can tell, all are accounted for and out of immediate danger.) A week or so later, I started riding in southern Florida. Even a month after hurricane Irma made landfall in the Keys, the devastation was obvious. I simply cannot imagine what the Virgin Islands and Puerto Rico are like. So today I made a donation to the American Red Cross. You can too. Here’s the site.

http://www.redcross.org/about-us/our-work/disaster-relief/hurricane-relief/hurricane-maria-relief-information#Domestic-Response

 

 

Tropical Depressions Are Well Named

During my recent ramble to Key West, I spent nearly a week dealing with a tropical depression. This was a storm off the east coast of Florida that cranked rain and wind at me. The wind was coming from the east and northeast. It carried with it fine grains of sand. By the time I got to Key West, my 24-speed bike would not shift into the big ring, making it a 16-speed.

I managed to make it home without difficulty. At the first opportunity I took the bike to a local bike shop. They worked on it and told me it was ready. Not even close. It shifted into the big ring on the work stand but not on the road. And the shifters required real elbow grease to actuate.

So I gave it back to them. While I was there they made three different adjustments to the shifting. None worked. In fact, the last adjustment made the chain rub on the derailer when I shifted into the (lowest) granny gear. They told me they’d work on it some more.

(Side note: last night I reviewed my ride by going through the maps I used. The map segment from Florida was impregnated with tiny grains of sand. The pages of the maps were almost glued together.)

Having already paid for the repair, I am not surprised that they showed little urgency in getting to it. I called on Sunday. “It’s in the workstand.” I told them I’d call on Monday. It wasn’t ready. So I called today. It still wasn’t ready.

“I’m coming to get the bike.”

“We’ll play around with it some more.”

In the half hour it took me to drive there, they managed to get the darned thing working. They sprayed the shifters and cables with lube, essentially flushing out the sand that the depression had injected into the works.  It’s  not perfect but it’s greatly improved. Once winter does its thing, I’ll probably start fresh with new shifters and cables and housings.

I really can’t blame them for the difficulty. (Although I am less than thrilled that they called me and told me the bike was ready when it was not.) Local bike shops around here don’t have a lot of experience with bikes that have been sandblasted. I had similar experiences with this sort of thing on my 2003 and 2005 tours. They were both on the GAP Trail in Pennsylvania on rainy days. The limestone grit on the trail became a kind of cement when mixed with the rain water. My 2003 tour ended when I lost my brakes and my shifting. My 2005 tour was saved by Nate, a mechanic at Volpattti’s Bike Shop in Washington, Pa. (A bike mechanic at a trailside shop in West Newton wouldn’t even look at the bike.)

With my bike and my ribs (thankfully) nearly healed, I am back to normal. I am trying not to eat too much junk. I like the fact that my clothes grew while I was away. I’be neen doing some day rides.

Tonight I do some volunteering. I have a stack of books and magazines piled up for reading once the World Series is over. I bought a gym pass at our local rec center so I think some (very cautious) weight training lies ahead. And I am probably going to apply for an Irish passport soon. (Not for any high minded reason. I can. So I’m gonna. Any readers who complain about it will be hit over the head with Nana’s sheleighly.)

And then there is the planning for next year’s tour. My current thinking is to ride to the Pacific Northwest. There are so many other places in the U.S. I’d like to ride. The Natchez Trace. Route 66. Skyline Drive and the Blue Ridge Parkway. The Katy Trail. The National Parks of Utah. Yosemite and Sequoia National Parks. Bar Harbor. If you connect these dots you get a 10,000 mile bike tour. Hmmm…..

And on a final note, the Southernmost Point buoy that was damaged by hurricane Irma is back in shape.

http://www.miamiherald.com/news/local/community/florida-keys/article180509201.html

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Work Somehow Seemed Easier than Retirement

My quest to do myself in by retiring marched forward yesterday. I started the day painting my shed in stifling humidity. I was drenched in sweat after two hours. I changed shirts and went to the home despot for some landscape edging. I then installed this along the bottom of the shed in the  hopes of impeding water flowing under it and somehow making the raised floor wet. Plan B involves regrading which I seriously want to avoid.

Next up I rode my Cross Check to see if an adjustment I made to the rear derailler’s shifting had fixed an annoying problem with the chain bouncing around. No dice. So I rode to Spokes Etc. my local bike store. They took a crack at it (again). Then I rode home. 11 miles in more stifling heat and humidity.

Next I sat indoors and cooled off for a couple of hours before riding the Cross Check to DC. Yeah, the chain started skipping again but at least I had a nice tailwind.

I attended a volunteer night at WABA world headquarters. I helped assemble first aid kits for ride marshals in preparation for the 50 States Ride. (Registration is still open.) They were short on defibrillators.  (Just kidding.) They had pizza and beer, which works for me as first and second aid.

It was still pretty gross out for the ride home. The headwind slowed me down but it cooled me off. The swarms of bugs along the river didn’t float my boat. Another 33 miles in the can.

I made it home and took a long cold shower. Then I sat down to watch the Nats on TV. I made it to the top of the 9th inning. Then I fell fast asleep. Ain’t baseball great. I woke up at 12:30 and staggered to bed.

Today I took it really easy. I put new brake pads on The Mule in preparation for the tour and then took Big Nellie out for a slow-ish 20-mile ride in the park. The rest of the day was spent sitting on the deck reading an actual book.

The next four days look like this:

  • Thursday: 6.5 mile hike on the Appalachian Trail
  • Friday
    • Ride 32 miles to and from Friday Coffee Club in DC
    • Ride 22 miles to and from Crystal City Happy Hour
  • Saturday: Ride 47 miles with Colin and company in Maryland. Ride ends at a brewery. That Colin is a genius.
  • Sunday: Ride 100 miles at the Reston Century

I wonder if I can get out of the ICU early enough on Monday to go the Nats game.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Rebirthday

Well I’ve done it now.  I retired. Threw in the towel. Jumped the shark. Rode off into the sunset. No reason to worry about impostor syndrome anymore. Fooled them all for 33 years.

By design it was a two-fer. My birthday and retirement day all in one. Once you ;e 62 your federal pension increases by 10 percent. Bueno. Also, I get to cash out my vacation days. Muy bueno. I had beaucoup vacation days because I only took 3 or 4 days off this year and, until recently, rarely took long vacations. I could have used them to take the summer off and ride cross country but I decided to work instead and do the cross country ride next year. With a fat wallet.

I have a friend who would object. Do it now, she says, the future may not come. Setting aside the fact that she has put off seeing me into the future at least six times in the last 2 1/2 years, I disagree. If I can’t do it next year, it will be because I am dead.  I won’t care a whole lot about riding a bike.

I rode to Friday Coffee Club with a tailwind. Thank you bike gods. The conversation was pretty interesting with lots of congratulations sprinkled in. I rode to work with Lawyer Mike.  We had a 13- or 14-block conversation while riding in the M Street cycletrack. After Mike peeled off, I continued on to work through a surprisingly empty Georgetown.

As I rode across Key Bridge, an on-coming bike commuter made eye contact with me. She gave me a big smile. I may be old, but I still got it. (For me, “it” is a bad case of lumbago, but whadda ya want?)

At work, the IT staff had already left me a message. They wanted my computer and iPhone. Dang. Even vultures let the body die before they pick it clean. I put them off for a few hours, did about 10 minutes of work, said goodbye to people and called the IT folks. Okay. Come rip the technology from my cold dead hands.

And they did. And I left. Will a big smile on my face.

I rode off with a big smile on my face. For about a block a sense of melancholy came upon me. I cleared the Intersection of Doom turned down the hill to the river and a stupid grin came over my face.

I decided to use my early departure to find some eclipse glasses. I visited about 8 or 9 places for naught. Then I decided to ride to Fort Washington, Maryland to buy my National Park senior pass. $10 for lifetime admission to national parks. (An annual pass for young folk is $80.)

The ride was brutal. My tank had a (super high calorie) doughnut, some orange juice, a banana, and a mocha java. All from several hours earlier. Caffeine and sugar fumes. The heat and humidity was truly oppressive. The headwind didn’t help a whole lot either. add in some pretty nasty hills and you’ve got yourself a hurtin’ unit. But the pass was only $10! (Online it costs $20 so the ride really wasn’t necessary.  You want rational, go somewhere else.)

The ride back featured a gloriously breezy 1-mile ride downhill from Oxon Hill to the Potomac River. Once at the river, it was sauna all over again. I rode home on fumes. Then Mrs. Rootchopper and I drove to an outdoor happy hour in Crystal City, near National Airport. They were giving away eclipse glasses so we got some. And some beer and some pizza. We were joined by my daughter and her college friend who was visiting. And then we were joined by torrential rains. We got soaked. I was actually getting chilled. The rain let up. More beer. More pizza. Then the rains returned. The vendors said no mas and we were drove home.

At home I watched a Neil Finn concert from Roundhead Studios in Auckland. It was recorded live at about 3 a.m. DC time. My favorite musician. On my Retirebirthday! Yes! And what better song to play but “Taking the Rest of the Day Off.” Perfect.

After that we had cake and ice cream. I got underwear! (No lie.) A pair of socks. (No lie!) Some bug spray. (No lie!) A sleeping bag liner (redundant since I ordered one a few days before!) And the piece de resistence, a Montreal Expos baseball cap. YES!!! Not the multicolored one either. The dignified dark blue one. So cool. I’m not taking it off. Ever. Bon anniversaire!

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My first official day of retirement was pretty mundane. I read the paper and did a heap of puzzles. Returned the sleeping bag liner and bought two new tires (Schwalbe Marathon Plus), citrus degreaser, wax lube in a small bottle, and a new helmet. Tour shopping. (My new panniers are on the way with the sleeping bag liner.)

I went to dinner with friends from grad school. Birthday dinners have been a thing for us for about 30 years. It’s a pretty cool tradition. When we got home, my wife and I talked to our son on Facetime. He was calling us at 9:30 am Sunday from Phuket Thailand. What a treat! He is a teacher and classes start in a couple of days. He seems pretty upbeat.

Today, I put the tires on The Mule. Then I took it for a 16-mile test ride in search of brake pads for the rear wheel. The three bike shops I visited were mobbed so I gave up. I’ll pick them up on the way to my volunteering gig on Tuesday night.

Next up was painting. I repainted the trim on the refurbished shed. Then I mowed the lawn. Oh, and there was laundry.

Ain’t retirement great!?

In all seriousness, thanks to everyone for their well wishes on this blog, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, and, can you believe it, in person.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tick, Tick, Tick

I feel like I am riding the last couple of days of a bike tour. The end is just down the road a bit. I want to savor the last bits of riding but the anticipation of completion is yanking at my monkey mind.

That’s what the last week of work before retirement is like. It would feel worse if not for the fact that DC is a sauna this week and I am mighty happy for the air conditioning in my office.

Today, I erased all the scribblings on my office white board. The list of hikes I meant to do this year. (Intentions count, don’t they Ultrarunnergirl?) And the list of 17 states I have ridden a bike in. And the list of 31 countries that various members of the family Rootchopper have visited. (The family Rootchopper sounds a bit like we should be escaping the Nazis over the Alps. Given the recent news, it might not be a bad idea.) Down went the list of clever phrases I came across during my six years while at this job, such as

  • The future is a foreign country  – Finn Quinn
  • You are what you do, not what you say you will do – Carl Jung
  • Is this useful? – Joseph Goldstein
  • Simply begin again. – Also, Joseph Goldstein
  • Ride and shine – Me. A fortuitous typo of “Rise and shine,” the words my mother used to say to wake me up for school
  • Fusiform gyrus – the part of the brain for name/face recognition. By way of Katie Lee who says mine is broken. She’s right. I am pathetic.
  • Full hearts, clear mind, can’t lose – from Coach Taylor’s pre-game speeches in Friday Night Lights.
  • Culo y calzon – literally “ass and panties”. Spanish language idiom that (very) roughly means “thick as thieves.” Used with coy double meaning in one of Florencia Renedo’s blog posts.
  • Let it go. Move on. Fuck [’em] – Katie Lee who had to tell me this too many times before I finally listened to her. Still grateful.
  • Are you happy? What will make you happy? Do it with everything you’ve got. – Speaker after speaker quoting their departed friend Lorena Gimenez at her memorial celebration.

So tomorrow is closing time. Every new beginning comes from some other beginning’s end.

Time to get to know the feeling of liberation and release.