Retirement Boy
31/10/15 08:05
Today is my first day of officially being retired. It went so well at work that I wish in retrospect that I had done it sooner. Truth be told, I'm too young to retire. Not sure what I was thinking when I walked into the office some months back and declared with great fanfare that I was going to retire. Well, too late to change all of that. It's done. I gave my notice, put in my time, said my good byes, and walked out the door of the company that has employed me for the last 28-29 years. While it was good to tell folks far in advance that I was retiring, there is nothing that can prepare you for the day you actually walk out the door for the last time. Until that day actually arrives, it's a head game of great expectations, whimsical moments of fleeting fantasy, long stretches of time where you wonder if the day will ever come, and sometimes interesting conversations with co-workers about your hopes and aspirations once you are actually retired. I suppose that if I hated my job or found it otherwise unpleasant or untenable I would have walked out the door feeling satisfied with myself that I had put the miserable experience behind me once and for all. In other words, I would have had the last laugh. But, I enjoyed my job immensely and loved the people that I worked with day in and day out. I think I didn't realize how much I loved the human side of the equation until I was actually out of the building and on my way to a new life. I am confident that each and every one of my folks is on their way to a better place because of the things we accomplished together. And now, with my job done, I'm ready too move on. Ready to reinvent myself. Ready to be me again.
My last day at work was a beautiful sunny cool and crisp day with temperatures in the high forties or low fifties. Perfect for a bike ride if I managed to leave the office early enough and I did just that. I was eager to get my new life started and was feeling the wind at my back after feeling the weight of my workplace responsibilities melt away with every step I took as I made my way to my car. The words exhilarating and liberating come to mind and I was feeling more inebriated with every step I took. It was a quixotic blend of hope and optimism that could only be shaken or stirred after leaving the workplace and not before. I stopped by Starbucks for my usual afternoon dose of caffeine and arrived back home a little after three. Evan was where he usually is and I went about my business getting ready for my bike ride without any conversation one way or another before departing on my ride. I recall thinking that being able to ride this late in the season is a blessing and I endeavored to push the envelope one way or another to get even more miles and more days in before it is either too cold or too snowy to continue doing what I love to do.
Yesterday was no different than any other day on my ride north and south along New Hampshire's coastline other than the notable differences brought about by the seasonal changes. The marsh grasses were a deeper golden hue, the ocean's as seen from the shore more turbulent and icy, the remaining species of shore birds this time of the year more robust and singularly focused on making the best of their foraging efforts in the receding tidal marshes, and the skies a deeper blue perhaps nothing more than a reflection of the ocean beneath. All that aside, I got to thinking about the celebration dinner that Nancy and I enjoyed in the early evening at a restaurant in downtown Portsmouth. It's funny how you start out with the greatest of expectations when stepping inside a restaurant for the first time and where it goes from there is truly anyone's guess. We have no history with the Brazo restaurant other than passing it by when we go in and out of town but even then it is there for the taking like it or not. We looked at the menu online and decided that it was worth a try so arranged to arrive at 6. It was not busy in the least when we arrived so had our choice of seats and chose a seat near the window. In a nutshell, the overall experience was just so-so. We enjoyed the ambience but thought our table far too small, my paella sub standard in terms of size and substance (too much rice, not enough seafood, consistently pasty, and overpriced), and Nancy's swordfish was the size and shape of a six year-olds fist. Call me old fashioned but I like my swordfish served as a slab with the curve of the cut hugging my plate in a semi-circle like fashion. Anything short of that is an abomination on God's great earth.
All I could think of as we were enjoying our meal, and Nancy and I discussed this at length, was that had her sister ordered the swordfish she in all likelihood would have been quite disappointed. As knob-ish in appearance as it was, it was not lacking in flavor one way or another so Nancy did enjoy it and actually took a portion home to have the following day. I had a lovely coffee drink which was short on size but infused with more than enough alcohol and topped with just enough whipped cream to make it a bit more like a dessert than not. I've not come to fully appreciate having a nice buzz before sitting down to a meal due to my arms length relationship with alcohol but I can see it becoming an acquired taste especially with the addition of caffeine as a fueling agent. Nancy ordered a drink as well but one that was not particularly memorable although I do think she enjoyed it. I ordered their tapas special and was less than impressed with the thumb drive sized morsels served although the fish taco with all of its delicate seasonings served atop a flakey crust was clearly a cut above. What chef worth his salt (and in his right mind) thinks that a cherry tomato sliced in half and stuffed with cream cheese qualifies as a Tapas selection? I was occasionally distracted, and probably more so after having had half my drink, by the tattoos on our waitress's forearm. I'm sure there was a story behind the story but not one I was interested in hearing from her lips so made no inquiries of same. Everyone is a fucking critic! Right? Don't know that we will be giving Brazo our business in the future. There are just too many other options in and around Portsmouth and life is way too short to not demand perfection. Maybe we need to lower our standards. Maybe I'll get a tattoo while I'm at it.
My last day at work was a beautiful sunny cool and crisp day with temperatures in the high forties or low fifties. Perfect for a bike ride if I managed to leave the office early enough and I did just that. I was eager to get my new life started and was feeling the wind at my back after feeling the weight of my workplace responsibilities melt away with every step I took as I made my way to my car. The words exhilarating and liberating come to mind and I was feeling more inebriated with every step I took. It was a quixotic blend of hope and optimism that could only be shaken or stirred after leaving the workplace and not before. I stopped by Starbucks for my usual afternoon dose of caffeine and arrived back home a little after three. Evan was where he usually is and I went about my business getting ready for my bike ride without any conversation one way or another before departing on my ride. I recall thinking that being able to ride this late in the season is a blessing and I endeavored to push the envelope one way or another to get even more miles and more days in before it is either too cold or too snowy to continue doing what I love to do.
Yesterday was no different than any other day on my ride north and south along New Hampshire's coastline other than the notable differences brought about by the seasonal changes. The marsh grasses were a deeper golden hue, the ocean's as seen from the shore more turbulent and icy, the remaining species of shore birds this time of the year more robust and singularly focused on making the best of their foraging efforts in the receding tidal marshes, and the skies a deeper blue perhaps nothing more than a reflection of the ocean beneath. All that aside, I got to thinking about the celebration dinner that Nancy and I enjoyed in the early evening at a restaurant in downtown Portsmouth. It's funny how you start out with the greatest of expectations when stepping inside a restaurant for the first time and where it goes from there is truly anyone's guess. We have no history with the Brazo restaurant other than passing it by when we go in and out of town but even then it is there for the taking like it or not. We looked at the menu online and decided that it was worth a try so arranged to arrive at 6. It was not busy in the least when we arrived so had our choice of seats and chose a seat near the window. In a nutshell, the overall experience was just so-so. We enjoyed the ambience but thought our table far too small, my paella sub standard in terms of size and substance (too much rice, not enough seafood, consistently pasty, and overpriced), and Nancy's swordfish was the size and shape of a six year-olds fist. Call me old fashioned but I like my swordfish served as a slab with the curve of the cut hugging my plate in a semi-circle like fashion. Anything short of that is an abomination on God's great earth.
All I could think of as we were enjoying our meal, and Nancy and I discussed this at length, was that had her sister ordered the swordfish she in all likelihood would have been quite disappointed. As knob-ish in appearance as it was, it was not lacking in flavor one way or another so Nancy did enjoy it and actually took a portion home to have the following day. I had a lovely coffee drink which was short on size but infused with more than enough alcohol and topped with just enough whipped cream to make it a bit more like a dessert than not. I've not come to fully appreciate having a nice buzz before sitting down to a meal due to my arms length relationship with alcohol but I can see it becoming an acquired taste especially with the addition of caffeine as a fueling agent. Nancy ordered a drink as well but one that was not particularly memorable although I do think she enjoyed it. I ordered their tapas special and was less than impressed with the thumb drive sized morsels served although the fish taco with all of its delicate seasonings served atop a flakey crust was clearly a cut above. What chef worth his salt (and in his right mind) thinks that a cherry tomato sliced in half and stuffed with cream cheese qualifies as a Tapas selection? I was occasionally distracted, and probably more so after having had half my drink, by the tattoos on our waitress's forearm. I'm sure there was a story behind the story but not one I was interested in hearing from her lips so made no inquiries of same. Everyone is a fucking critic! Right? Don't know that we will be giving Brazo our business in the future. There are just too many other options in and around Portsmouth and life is way too short to not demand perfection. Maybe we need to lower our standards. Maybe I'll get a tattoo while I'm at it.