Retirement

I, like most people, had two sets of grandparents. On my father’s side I had Papaw Yancey (Charlie) and Gertrude. I only knew Gertrude as my grandmother because they were married around the same time I was born. My Father’s mother died when he was nine from breast cancer, and she left behind 4 other children as well. Ladies, check yo self.

When I am extremely stressed at work I think about Papaw Yancey. At his funeral, the written program pretty much summed him up in two sentences. “Charlie was a barber and a Baptist. In his retirement he liked to fish, camp, and visit.”

Oh hell yeah! I cannot wait to be retired so I can fish, camp, and visit. I am good at all three of those things! I might even change it up sometimes and visit, camp, and then fish! SHIT that will be fun.

I have a list of many things I would like to do when I retire. Like no longer having to kiss ass like I do here at work. That would be a nice change of pace. Just wear knee highs with my dresses. Let my facial hair grow with wild abandon. And bitch at every restaurant, store, and event I go to about some tiny problem I have.

I want to sit on the furniture at museums even though there are signs everywhere. Maybe eat dinner at 4:30, with my senior citizen discount. I know it sounds like I have this all planned out, but that is because I do.

Lacy and I plan to have an RV together with a young and handsome driver. Since both of our 401K’s are in the crapper, we might have to rethink that. I want to be sitting in my kitchen reading the paper and notice there is a free blood pressure check somewhere in town and know that will make my day. Lacy and I (because we will be living together regardless) will run and jump in my 4629 foot long Cadillac and high tail it to Caroline’s house. We will lay on the horn in her driveway and scream, “Get Your Shit and Come On!” until she finally drags her ass out of there wearing that damn visor. Still.

I will say whatever I think. I will have an ever present lit cigarette dangling from my lips, because if I make it to age 70 I am picking that habit right back up again. I will sleep in church. I will go through menopause and get really, really big and just not care. I might even start drinking whiskey again, but in small doses. Small doses means I will ask for” just a touch” over and over again until my glass is full.

Who am I kidding? I will hopefully still be running. I cannot wait to have grandchildren, and I would like a Mercedes – not a Cadillac. I am sure I will not be sitting on the furniture in any museums as I will still be working in mine. I am sure Lacy and I will take a few trips in our RV, but we will let Caroline drive. I will be a sweet loving grandmother who volunteers and writes blogs about her life.

But I am dead serious about the smoking.