The Piedmont of Virginia is lethargically casting off the artificial swaddle of the Holy Day, and getting back to work with enthusiasm and vibrant energy. Or something. We hosted a splendid luncheon with the Russians on a lovely Sunday afternoon. A superb roast, dynamic mashed potatoes, broccoli with delightful piquant cheese sauce, and fresh vegetable harvested from the rich soil we share.

The Russians are just a step behind us in the race to join the soil ourselves. We have pretty much adapted to the “retirement” lifestyle, which is to say we have managed that awkward forward hurdle of normal to ‘early’ Social Security, then minimizing the hours we devote to paid labor, figuring out how to bridge the uncertain chasm of health care costs and all that nonsense. “$500 a month, and a $10,000 deductible” went one alternative. I shivered a bit in the moist warm breeze.

I still recall the morning I dropped a note to my financial advisor, telling him I had hit ’62,’ and started getting a free check from the Government every month. I didn’t expect the blast I got back, which was along the lines of: “Stop. Write a check in the full amount of the money received. Find your local Social Security Office. Go there and hand them a check. Tell them to stop. Don’t do anything else stupid without talking to me first.”

I blanched, and did that. I saw the nice lady at SSA smile as I sheepishly pushed the check across the counter and said what my advisor told me. “Stop. Please.”

It worked out, and they cashed the check. I thought adding the “please” made it respectful. In retrospect, waiting to the “full retirement age” to start drawing cash from the Feds was worth it, though it balances the somewhat ominous possibility of a premature departure from the whole life thing. Listening to discussions of the change are fun, once it has happened and you just live with the consequences. I ventured on to social media, careful not to leave tracks for the Post Office to collect. I saw one of my old bosses had turned eighty this weekend. In his Facebook picture he looked great, and I remembered just a bit of how we looked….43 years ago.

It has been fun. The morning news is filled with stuff. You will feel it swirling around if you are celebrating Monday. At the farm, we are waiting to see if it stops raining, and plan from there.

So, we start the first Saturday of the month, only six more days until the next First Saturday. Or the second, if we start counting that way. Life is grand, ain’t it? Forward!

Copyright 2021 Vic Socotra
www.vicsocotra.com