semi-retired

I work three days a week, 6-hour days. It's good. Today is like Saturday, followed by two more Saturdays! It's rainy and cool, I don't have to be anywhere until 10. I woke up about 5:30, which sounds early, but it's very light here this time of year and the birds are noisy, even today. I feel good when I wake up and it's light out and I wasn't awake at all in the night (that I remember). I didn't have trouble falling asleep and now I feel energized, ready to do the things. No telling if it will last. I like volunteering at the food bank, everyone (almost always) is pleasant, some of the clients are super-grateful, and the people I work with are pretty nice. These days, it's unusual to get to know new people. Lisa and I work back-to-back. I check in and she checks out. We each have a computer. People wait in line, they sign in, they show me proof of residence (a piece of mail dated in the last 30 days). I don't really check too carefully, I just need to see their name so I can find them in the computer. I'm not too concerned if they are Beverly residents. I don't have to worry about the rules so much. There are staff I call for if there's any sort of question or problem. Lately there have been more people and less food, but still something for most people. Some people take lots of produce: potatoes, onions...usually Moms. Some people only take prepared food; they may not have access to a kitchen, or maybe they just don't cook. We get donations from Whole Foods and Henry's: lovely sandwiches and soups and casseroles; pot pie is a favorite. I'm only there 2 hours. Last week, it finally slowed down for the last ten minutes. I don't love rainy days; people have to wait outside until 10 and some have to walk home with their groceries. Some have carts, some have young children. 

It's a little bit jarring because of the plenty in my life, but I try not to let that consume me. I usually spend a lot of my free time researching my genealogy and writing up the lives of my ancestors from 325 years ago. But these days I look at houses that I might buy. This old house is great in many ways, for one thing, it's close to the ocean and I can catch glimpses of it from my bedroom. But I am outgrowing it--I have trouble with the stairs sometimes. It's too big for two of us. I long for a kitchen that is easy to use and clean, a little space between us and our neighbors, a place I can grow vegetables or sit outside without hearing everyone so close to me, talking or hammering.