Coming Through In Waves

Since my last post in July 2009 I have found employment, almost by accident, as a cook at the Brightwood Tavern. I should have kept a journal of my experiences there, people I have met, the Regulars at the Tavern (I call them "The Usual Suspects."). Someone with a normal imagination, some writing skills, and the energy and will could write a great comic/tragic novel revolving around the Tavern, or at least a pilot for a sitcom.
Someday I will write about it, but for now I am here to write about My Life at this moment.

I have been cooking at the Tavern since mid-July when it finally opened. The job pays minimum wage, but the tips more than make up the shortfall, ranging from $25 to $50 a day, which is substantial. It has allowed me to buy insurance and register my car, buy food, art supplies, clothing, one wedding gift, and a round-trip ticket to Baltimore to attend said wedding, and to finally begin to pay rent for this fine studio in which I live.

As good as this may sound versus poverty and unemployment, over time it has reaffirmed my belief that I was never cut out to work for a living, as generally understood in American society (daily toil for money). My only talent is in the arts, and the only arena in which I feel comfortable is the visual arts. Although I have now been chipping away at becoming an "artist" for the better part of two years, I am just beginning to get a sense of what that really means.

Serendipitously, I am also reaching retirement age in the Social Security sense, and have decided to take that plunge in July, when I will be 62 years old. I will receive from SSA about as much as I now get from Toil at the Tavern, but will have all my time free to pursue my post-retirement career as a visual artist. This feels very much like my last Shot At Redemption. I think this is what I was meant to do to leave something behind besides a legacy of mishandled money and broken hearts.

The other large decision I have made recently is to get a puppy. No shit. A puppy.

I have become friends with a couple at the Tavern whose black Lab bitch pooped out a litter last month. The pups will be ready to go in March and I have committed to taking one. I will meet them this week and pick one out.

I have been thinking about getting a dog for a while, since it's an easy way to get a friend and constant companion, which I need. I was going to adopt an old dog from a shelter but decided a puppy will be better. Hopefully he and I (it will be a male) will bond like I did with ol' Spike so many years ago. Spike was a most unruly dog, mainly because I did everything wrong in raising him, but he loved me a lot and I loved him right back. He was My Dog. I want to do that again, but this time do it right, as far as neutering (Spike was never neutered, probably the main reason he was such a wild man), housebreaking, training, etc. I want the dog to grow old with me, rather than get an old dog that I might outlive. I don't need anymore heartbreak, thank you very much, so safety will be a big concern, and that goes right back to training, and getting a good-tempered pup to begin with. I know I have several years in purgatory coming for what I did to Burt, the sweetest dog I ever met. It's my fault he died so young; I won't ever get over that but maybe I can make it up to the cosmos in some way by getting it right with this puppy. I hope so.

So I feel energized for the time being with what's coming: dog, retirement, post-retirement career. Stand by for future posts here about how this all turns out.
For now, Comfortably Numb, Namaste.