...and another year passes. Here's to #38.

I always have to count the years, because I don't trust my memory or the math. As of today, let's say around 10:30 am, G and I have been married 37 years. Also, ten years ago today, around 4pm, we signed our contract for the house we are in. (Yes, we gave each other a 30 year mortgage--do we know how to do it up or what?) Due to all the reasons, we are not celebrating in any photo-worthy style. We usually don't do much anyhow, mostly because G is working and never takes a vacation. Well, this year, it's the opposite: he has not been to work since June 4th, and he's been literally under foot. Either way, it's "for better, for worse," and mostly we've been pretty good, all told. I just hope year #38 is a little less medically eventful. 

That all said, we'll head out for brunch after I read at church this morning. It's the Feast of the Assumption of Mary, and she, as our spiritual Mother, is a darn fine example of having to put up with a whole lot of BS, and keeping her Holy Cool. At least, that's what we've been given to understand, over the centuries. At any rate, I often turn to her for guidance. The least I could do is offer to be the reader at the 8:30 Mass this morning. 

And speaking of year #38, it'll also be my 38th year as a teacher. Most of the folks I started out with have retired or passed away... and even one colleague who was a junior in high school my first year teaching has recently retired to become a full-time master brewer. I feel incredibly old.

Dang. It's pretty sobering when it sinks in that I *am* the senior staff member. And my principal is also a former student of mine--and not from year #1, either. I read in the paper yesterday that our Superintendent is retiring at the end of this year; she started teaching just before I did. I feel like a dinosaur. 

Maybe it's morbid, but gee whiz, retirement before one is entirely decrepit sounds good. I don't think I will be able to, given that part-time teachers don't earn state retirement, but we'll see if Social Security hangs in there as long as I have to, in order to make it to 67. Nine more years, eh? I know one thing, though: my husband is not going to be a complacent retiree, if he does get to retire. This summer of forced inaction has proven that a busy fella needs to stay busy. And I crave the peace and quiet that an empty house provides, too. I suppose we can look at this summer and its challenges as a test run for retirement, and I know for sure that we'll have to do things a bit differently, if we are blessed with the chance to actually retire. 

So, here's to Year #38, both professionally and personally. I hope it's a whole lot less fraught than the last. 

C