In the previous post (“Welcome to The Switchel Philosopher“) George used two words that should give you pause: switchel and adventure. Switchel is an acquired taste, one that I never acquired. And our three children can attest from their growing up years that it was wise to be on your guard whenever George talked about an “adventure.” It meant one of three things:
- He didn’t have a plan and was flying by the seat of his pants.
- He had a plan but didn’t want to tell you because he knew you wouldn’t like it.
- He was lost.
Consider yourself forewarned.
Once when George was still working I asked him what he wanted to do in retirement, and he replied that he wanted to be a philosopher. I told him in no uncertain terms that I did not marry a philosopher! Later I relented and said he could be a philosopher part-time. But really he has no qualifications to be a philosopher. So at best he’s a part-time amateur philosopher-in-training.
We’re still married after 37 years. It sure has been an adventure! It looks like retirement is going to be another adventure.