Monday, October 7, 2013


Not sure in which direction I'd like to take this post. Time reflected is 0340 and here I sit tired but unable to sleep. I need to make changes to my life.

We had a chat last evening. She believes I should sell and retire. Take life one day at a time, relax. Maybe, she said, do a monthly gunshow. Read, write, restore my stoves and lanterns. Reload and shoot. Return to my first editions. Dig into my collection of cook books and actually build a complicated two day recipe.

She flicked those big green peepers at me and reminded me how difficult it is for me to rise every morning; the moans after only three hours of rest. The six day work weeks. Tired, sore feet.

I sat and listened as she reasoned and explained how I'd earned the right to retire. She's concerned with the fact I seldom, if ever, sleep. (Even now my mind is a jumbled mess.) I argued, in soft tones, I'm not old. How I'd like to work at least another ten years. My shop is a great base of operations. It is my sanctuary.

Finance is her strong suit. She gently shoved this mini-depression up my nose. Asked, "How's business?"  Okay, fine. She jerked my chain with that one. Business isn't as strong as before the crash. Actually revenue is off. But, isn't it for every small business in the country. She snickered...changed direction.

"Honey, it isn't necessary we (Did you catch that, we.) make a decision tonight. Let's set a few goals, it'll give you time to adjust to the idea of retirement."

Somewhere in my garage I'm sure there's a suitable piece of lumber ready to be fashioned into a fine old man's cane.

Nope, sorry, it's not for me.


About midnight I eased from the bed and came out and slipped 'The Book of Eli' into the player. I rate it second only to 'The Road' in the post-apocalyptic genre. Its subtle. If you've seen the movie, and I'm sure many of you have indeed, I ask...his he or isn't he?

 If you understand the question, and give an answer, place yourself in the cool kid category.


Yesterday I placed an order for two hundred business cards. Plain white cards printed with only my name and cell number in black script - just an old fashioned classic card. You'd have thought the task simple. Not so much.

"Really, only white? No address, business hours? Nothing else?"

Repeated my request.

"Well, then we'll need to add a surcharge." 

Perhaps I should retire.