Dear Readers,

Sunshine, blue skies. Purple morning glories still climb my backyard cyclone fence in Cramer Hill.  Our new puppy, Finn, can go outside without his sweater.   It’s the kind of morning that I often dreamed of enjoying, but had to grab my purse and my bag of schoolwork to rush to teach.

     TGIR.  Thank God It’s Retirement.

I hopped in my 2007 Camry and left Cramer Hill for Cherry Hill and I parked directly outside THE RACK.  First time ever to get that VIP spot.  The store opened and I was the second customer.  What luxury to look at sweaters and socks and all sorts of I household items without feeling in someone’s way…

I did buy a gray sweater.  You might think well, what’s up with that?  A gray sweater?  Who cares?

Let me tell you that for too many years I bought navy blue or black (pretending black was navy blue) sweaters for work.  I always worked at schools where one of the school colors was blue.  Sometimes I just couldn’t find what I wanted in blue so I’d buy something in black. Navy, black?  Awfully close, aren’t they?

Oh, the liberation of buying a soft gray oversized cashmere sweater!  It was a bargain, mind you.  It was such a bargain that I just had to have it.   Red will be next.

Then, a hooked pillow caught my eye–blue background with a big reddish-orange heart.  That big red heart gave me the same good feeling that I have when I hear the Beatles’ “All You Need Is Love.”  I didn’t know if the pillow was such a bargain, but I just had to have it.  I  grabbed it, but there was no price tag.

I took the heart pillow and the gray sweater to the front and the cheery salesperson rang up my sweater and then searched for the price tag for the pillow.  I waited for almost a half-hour while the staff grimaced, apologized and searched for a price.  I smiled patiently because it was a fine fall day, I was “free,” and shopping on a Monday morning is still a treat.  The price was right so I bought it.

At home, I showed my island puppy the pillow.  He loved it, too. Pillow and sweater were put far from his claws and teeth.  Finn enjoyed a treat while I wrote this blog and thought again–Thank God It’s Retirement.

Written by Finn’s mom

P.S.  Finn was born on the island of Sint Maarten in the Caribbean.  That’s why he’s my island dog.

Marguerite Ferra, Cramer Hill