Retirement - As the dust settles, or after the batteries die.

Monday morning. Not what they used to be. No more Sunday evening dread. No more Monday morning scramble to work. Just another day. But what potential there is! I can make this day everything, or just let it slide by. My best choice is to make something happen. Today's a great chance to be me.

I loaded the motorcycle with my laptop and mandolin. I pictured sitting in the park, overlooking the bay while blogging. (Pic) The mandolin travels much more easily than a guitar. Actually, it wouldn't hurt to cart that mando around more often. Sometimes I'd like to be able to play it while I'm out, just on the spur of the moment.

I've been using the lifespan of my laptop batteries to govern my blog time each day. Rather than plugging into AC power at a Starbucks, I simply let the battery run down and then know that a couple of hours have passed.

I've lengthened my meditation routine. I was reading a tongue-in-cheek quote from someone that read, "A half hour of meditation if usually enough, unless I am very busy, then an hour is required." I'm up to half an hour now. It's not that hard, and the effect is larger. I appear to have developed a higher tolerance level for stillness. I'm listening to YouTube videos of Dan Tyminski and his band. There's a great calm available to me.
I researched writers' workshops in Tampa. The Tampa Writer's Alliance meets monthly. They critique submitted works. It's $30 per year for membership. Guests are welcome to sit in. A guest submission is welcome 2 weeks prior to the meeting. The next meeting is Dec 2, and I'll be there. I don't have great expectations for my blather, but I could improve. I'd like to make some of my writing more interesting, and more formally acceptable. After all, I'm not devoid of talent.
I have a memory of a man I knew when I was working for the government. He retired while in his fifties, and didn't go back to work that I know of. While I was still working, I remember seeing him at a park, sitting in his truck, his head resting against the driver's side window, his eyes closed. That wasn't where I wanted to be during retirement.