Pensioner or. . . ??

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I first heard the word “pensioner” when I lived in England, and it conjured up a thin old man, slightly bent, whiskery, baggy pants, wooly jacket, slightly odiferous.  I would like to think I’m not that person.  BUT. . .I AM officially a pensioner, as of yesterday, when I turned 62!!!  Yes, I applied for Social Security, and yes, I can get all the senior citizen discounts I want.  Just a few of the “awards” (as Social Security system calls it, even though I worked for and put every penny in my account) of this age.

It was another lovely, sunny,  warmish day here in Beaufort, SC.  By 11 a.m. Don and I had set out on our bikes.  I had a goal in mind.  Knowing that our bike’n’barge trip in April calls for 25-30 miles/day, well, today was the day I topped 30 miles.

So over the McTeer bridge we went, enroute to Cat Island.  I met up with my biking group and Don headed home.  I biked, pedalled, biked some more.  Stopped for an hour with my friend Donna to study Italian.  Indirect object pronouns, doncha’ know.  We drank a toast to her little 3 yr. old neighbor, Morgan, who just successfully underwent heart transplant surgery.  Back on my bike to bike, bike, bike. . .and hallelujah, the odometer finally turned the magic number:

As I straggled into the house, I realized that the day was far from over because tonight was SHAG DANCE LESSONS!!  So in a short hour, we were enroute to Amvets for our final beginner lesson.  Thank goodness for ibuprofen!!

Home again to share phone calls with my kids, a surprise gift left on my neighbor’s porch, and more ibuprofen.

Today, well, let’s just say my quads are letting me know that I biked, my knees still work, and I’ll be ready to bike those 30 again.  So what’s my definition of a PENSIONER now?  Stay tuned. . .

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