We've had an amazingly beautiful fall. But now it's starting to get that cold and clear feeling. Not snow this week, but what might be called "high fall." So I pour a bourbon, enjoy the wood stove. At this rate, I'll be immobile by February, hanging out with the dogs and whining when the fire dies and waiting for Bob to get back to work while I hibernate until spring.
If I were 18 again, I think I'd study to become a heavy equipment operator or diesel mechanic. Work when I want making decent money - hooray for affirmative action and non-traditional occupation quotas. I would leave at the end of the day able to see what I'd accomplished Granted, I wouldn't get to talk a lot about Shakespeare, except to myself, and I wouldn't get to laugh at teenagers. But I'd accomplish something and I'd have choices about where and when to work. I'd be outside and I'd be physically challenged. If I were 18 again. But I'm not. Not even close. And this path has been good so far.
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