week two of this retirement thing.

Well I made it through my first week of retirement.  So far so good.  On the bad side, my plan for getting up and going for early morning walks got a little thwarted first of all that it is bloody cold outside in February, dark too.  Also, I got busy.  On the good side, I have been pretty relaxed.  I have been enjoying my time with Marla.

Today was nice, I went out for lunch with Anne and Kathy.  It was great to share some time with old workmates and friends.  I think seafood chowder or clam chowder is becoming my favourite soup.  I tried making fresh tomato soup, which was really good, but only made 1.5 cups of soup.  I have to try thiagain.

I worked on a couple of Royals Hockey games.  Good games and good times.  my downfall is the buffet of cookies they leave out.  I have got it down to a limit of four per night.  One before the game and one ofter each mid-period commercial break. 

Tomorrow I am working on the Tenors and then I have a week or so off.  Most of it I should be using for my studying.  I have been working of making my memory right.  So I am trying to learn some Shakespeare speeches.  I am starting with All The World's A Stage - Jacques' speech from As You Like It.  It took three days but I think I have it -
All the world's a stage,
and all the men and women merely players.
Their acts being seven ages.
They have their exits and their entrances
Each man in his time plays many parts.
First the infant, mewling and puking in the nurses arms.
And Then the whinning school boy with satchel and shinning morning face
creeping unwillingly to school.  Then the lover, sighing like a furnace,
with a woeful ballad made to his mistresses eyebrow.

Then a soldier, full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard. 
Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel
seeking the bubble reputation, even in the cannon's mouth.

Then the justice, with fair round belly and good capon lined
eyes severe, with beard of formal cut,
Full of wise saws and modern instances, and so he plays his part.

he sixth age shifts to the lean and slipp'red pantaloon. 
With spectacles on nose and pouch on side,
his hose, well saved, a world to wide for his shrunk shrank,
His big manly voice turning again to childish trebles, pipes and whistles
in his sound. 

The last scene of all to end this eventful history is that of second
childishness and mere oblivion.
Sans teeth, Sans eyes, sans taste, sans everything.