Tuesday, August 12, 2008

To all my BFFs: Please buy that condo in San Francisco! I'd do it for you.

It is very important to plan for your retirement and not in the way you might think. Michael Flocker's The Hedonism Handbook is one of my favorite books because it insists that you care for your friends and they care for you...even into the muumuu years. My BFF "J" kindly found the paragraph I was looking for and sent it to me, reminding me not to get off track:
"While you are young, you must identify those friends with whom you would be comfortable for a lifetime. Regardless of the marriages, careers and commitments that may arise, you must make a pact with a select few with whom you will work toward purchasing country homes around the world. Regardless of whether they are CEOs or lifelong waiters, everyone must contribute to the pot. Some will provide real estate, some will supply sexy young distractions, but everyone must bring something to the game. These are your partners in the muumuu years."
"Up until the age of seventy, it is adviseable to keep it together, retain your youth and build your personal empire, but once seventy hits, all bets are off. Carbohydrates, alcohol and pain killers are the name of the game, and everyone shares in the riches. At that point, everyone retires and the long, debauched slide into senility begins. Spouses, tricks and crazy strangers are welcome. A traveling loop is formed between so-and-so's place in Miami, what's-her- name's place in Monte Carlo, and thingamajig's place in the Catskills."
It's the traveling loop that is key. Frankly, it's what keeps me motivated some days. I relish thoughts of springtime in Bruges, summer in North Ontario, autumn in Montevideo.

Monday, August 11, 2008

Can I quote you on that?

Sitting alone one evening après le debauchery that was Miami, I was having a pity party of one, realizing that the fun was all over and that my once liquid cash flow had dried up to resemble a dusty arroyo in New Mexico. I moped about the house, lamenting to the dogs that we had no tall, frosty beers in the fridge and nothing to do. Then I remembered we have a pool. Yes! Princess should have a swim and forget her blues. But before going in, I rummaged through the cabinet and found some old vodka and some new sour apple mix. Ha!
I am aware now of how foolish my next thought was and thanks to my BFF "D" who laughed and laughed at my so-called poverty, I am smacked, snorting, all the way back to reality:
"I guess I'll just have to swim in my pool and drink green apple martinis until we can afford beer."