Retiring with my husband

It's coming fast....Not sure when, really. The exact date, I mean, but I can feel it in the air. I'm not old enough to retire. My brain still thinks I'm 38. What the heck happened to the years? My oldest son is almost 35 years old. When I was 35 I had a life that now I only remember on those days when sadness overwhelms me and I go back in my head to recall when I felt more alive. I pray that Jack and I can recapture some of those wild and romantic and crazy times we once shared together. Life does go way too fast. Believe it or not I can call with vivid clarity my 15th birthday. I loved my teenage years. I just wish I would have appreciated those years more.

But retirement will be a new chapter in our lives. It will read how we want it to read. No one can write our story but us. So, we'll see how it plays out.

Alogonac State Park, Michigan on the St. Claire River

Wohoo!!! What a beautiful, completely relaxing week we spent at the Alogonac State Park in Michigan. Loved it. A little cold but still nice. We took our bikes over to an island on a ferry and rode around the island. We like to bike and bar run. We hunt the really old, neighborhood bars when we're out on our bikes, have a few, talk to the locals. We have such good times and meet the nicest people on our trips. We learn more about the area we're in from the towns' folk than we do any Internet site. Sometimes it's sad, too. Especially when you talk to older people who are alone and drunk on their butt by 2:00 in the afternoon. By alone I mean, without a spouse, partner or seemingly a friend in the world. Most older drunk men we meet are divorced. I try to ask most of these men if they are happy with how their lives turned out. Seems they always say they are but their eyes tell a different story. I love talking to strangers. Strangers you meet in a little neighborhood bar, a bar you will never be to again, is like the Internet without the pop ups; a wealth of knowledge. This particular bar we went to had been family owned for years. The ladies running it were sisters; their parents were retired in Florida and the sisters were running the bar and restaurant. The parents had been alcoholics when the girls were young and the sisters spent their young lives living in the bar while the parents drank and socialized with the patrons. Their parents no longer drink and seem to be enjoying their retirement, according to the girls. But according to the girls when they were young and before the flood wall was built in front on the bar, the bar patrons would have to lift their legs up every time a big barge would come by as the waves from the barges would flood the bar at least one to two inches each time. To the patrons it was no big deal, as the island was small, the population at the bar even smaller so everyone that spent time there, lifting there legs to avoid the rush of water was common place. I'll remember that bar forever. Everyone was so nice. There were some beautiful and exotic homes on the island. One in particular was something that was too high end to be highlighted on House Hunters. Un-friggen-believable. We could not believe the exotic detail of the home, not to mention the dollars that was obviously spent on the home itself. We did learn, however, at the bar, that the couple who owned the home was from Italy and were in the middle of a divorce. They had only stayed in the home for a few months and left the home without finishing the landscaping. Beautiful but cold. Went to Canada. Almost didn't get out of Canada. I didn't know you needed a freakin passport to get back in to the states from Canada. It's amazing how wonderfully complicated our government makes crossing the border from Canada such a federal screwed up jump of hoops but can't seem to keep out hundreds of thousands of illegals from other countries. Whatever.

Loved our time together and our time away. Life is so different on the road.

Went to Detroit one day, had lunch right outside of the Detroit Tigers stadium. A different world. We saw a homeless man pee right outside of the bar we were in. And the bar was a nice one; not a dive. Jack gets upset me when I get all paranoid about big cities. It's strange really. I've never, ever been afraid in New York City, San Fransisco, or even Miami. But Detroit scared the heck out of me. I was happy to leave that city.

But the barge's thumping motors could be felt in your chest as they passed the park. At night the low groaning of their motors would wake you and until they passed you could not get back to sleep. Or at least I couldn't. I'm sure locals were totally use to it and chances are never even noticed the noise.

Loving My Dogs

I love my dogs. Plain and simple. They are the cutest damn things God has ever blessed me with, of course, except my sons. Bad grammar, I know, but I don't care. I love those dogs; Tanner, my boy, and Sydney, my girl. They are both Shitzues but the loves of my life; besides my family, of course. They bring such comfort. When Jack and I were dating I had an aunt who had a dog named Buffy. Jack and I were awful to her; well, not to her face, but behind her back. We were horrible to her about Buffy. About how she babied Buffy too much; how crazy she was because she treated Buffy like a baby. My aunt didn't have any children. I do and I am 50 times worse with my two dogs than my aunt ever was with Buffy. I wish she were alive so I could apologize. I finally get that love. I finally understand how precious the furry kids can be.