Pretending I'm Retired

Preparing “I just finished reading a book about all the ways you can die in the Grand Canyon,” my neighbor tells me as we watch our dogs run around his back yard. I cross my arms and stare at him. “Great,” I say, rolling my eyes. “This is just what I want to hear the night before I leave for the Grand Canyon.” He laughs. “No, you’d like it, really,” he says. “The point is, the majority of these deaths are preventable if you are prepared.” I’m prepared. Chrissy and I have been preparing for over a year, in fact, because that’s how far in advance this adventure has been on the calendar. After entering a lottery, we were notified in March of 2022 that we secured two spots to spend the night in a cabin at the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Did you know that the Grand Canyon hosts about 6 million visitors annually? This makes it our second most popular National Park, just behind the Great Smoky Mountains. And of that 6 million, guess how many people take at least one step below the ...

Somehow, I thought death would be more profound. Sad, of course, but also a meaningful and poetic intersection of grief and joy. Memories of a life well spent. A reminder to the living that time is our most precious commodity. What I didn’t expect was the mundane side of death. The phone calls. The emails. The paperwork. The taxes. Death has become my “to do” list. I think back to a year ago when I was feeling the itch for a change. A new dog? A new job? Go back to school? And in true Allison fashion, I did all three. I adopted an adorable puppy, I accepted a job teaching fifth grade at a new school, and I enrolled in a creative writing program. I filled my life right up to the brim. What I didn’t allow for was space for the unexpected. Which is a naïve error in calculations, right? Because when has life ever gone according to my well laid-out plans? When my dad died in July, I thought, “I can handle this.” I’ve learned a lot over the last 8 months as I’ve navigated the tasks associa...

There’s a sticky hand on my ceiling. You know, one of those cartoon-like hands that seems to have 5 fingers and no thumb? Sticky hands come in assorted colors with long stretchy tails—perfect for eleven-year-old boys to swing and fling around the classroom. To be clear, I gave one to each of the girls too, but it is the boys who have eagerly unwrapped them, quickly tossing aside the attached Valentine that reads, “Let’s stick together!” Now the boys are up out of their seats, heart-shaped lollipops in their mouths, swinging their sticky hands around the room, experimenting with the yo-yo quality of the elastic tail and the stickiness of the rubbery digits. Did I mention that I have seventeen boys in my class? It was just a matter of time before one swung a sticky hand up in the air and—Thwack!—it landed on my ceiling. The ceiling in my classroom is made of those classic 2’ x 2’ tiles set in a suspended checkerboard grid. Originally, they were made with asbestos, but now they’re ...

What can you say about the number 52? It’s a multiple of two so it’s an even number. It’s composite, with factors of 1, 2, 4, 13, 26, 52. It has two digits, the sum of which is 7. There’s a 5 in the tens place and a 2 in the ones place. Let’s see, what else? As of today, it’s my age. The year I turned 50, I made a long list of goals related to my age—such as read 50 books, ride my bike 50 miles, visit all 50 states, etc. The older I get, the more ambitious and unrealistic these age-numbered goals become. And also, the older I get, the less important these goals seem. As I reflect on my 51 st year, there’s no number that sticks out among the highlights and the challenges. 50—I finally made it to Alaska, the crown jewel in my quest to visit all 50 states. 5—number of graduate classes to earn my certificate in creative writing at PENN. 1—We welcomed one new puppy to our family in May. 6—number of days spent exploring London over spring break. 40—number of miles Chrissy and ...

Tick Tock. I feel like Captain Hook’s crocodile is stalking me. Thanksgiving break is winding down and the Sunday scaries are creeping up. Do you ever have days like that? Sometimes I realize I didn’t make time for something I want to do and think, “What did I do all day?” Then I start to wonder what other people do…especially those who work full time, read lots of books, train for a marathon in their spare time, and still manage time for brunch on Sundays. Now, I don’t want to complete another marathon. That’s definitely on my unbucket list. But I also don’t want to wake up one morning and wonder, Where did my life go? I am curious about how I am choosing to spend mine. I get up with the intention to write but I’ll just take a quick peek at the daily Wordle first. Next thing you know, I’ve spent 20 minutes trying to figure out a five-letter word that ends in -cer. I’m folding laundry, and I wonder if rearranging the furniture would help our tiny bedroom feel more spaciou...

  An occasional feature where Allison debunks what “they” say to offer her own advice: Allison’s tip of the week: Go to the grocery store when you’re hungry. I know. This goes against conventional wisdom. The more common advice is to avoid the grocery store when you are hungry. I disagree. I can think of a bunch of places you shouldn’t go when you are hungry. Like, on a job interview. It would be distracting and embarrassing if your stomach started rumbling when you are trying to explain how organized you are. Or running a marathon. Certainly not a smart choice to try to conquer 26.2 miles on an empty stomach. But the grocery store? A place that sells food seems like a perfectly responsible place to go when you are hungry. I understand—in theory—why “they” say grocery shopping while hungry is a bad idea. In theory, you have your well-thought-out-plans, menus, and a list of ingredients. Then, distracted by your hunger (cue ominous music: dun, dun, dun ), you might be tempted t...

This is going to sound stupid, but I’m going to tell you anyway. I tried to make a bargain with God. I know, right? It was last month, right before our trip to Alaska--the crown jewel in my quest to visit all 50 states. You know, the trip I planned to take back in 2020 that got postponed twice due to covid? Well, I was working on all the trip logistics—downloading passport information to fly through Canada, filling out health questionnaires, scheduling medically observed covid tests…and I was nervous and stressed. What if someone tested positive for covid and we couldn’t go? “Dear God,” I prayed. “Please let this trip go smoothly.” That felt a little selfish. God has more important matters than my family vacation. So, I added, “I promise not to drink alcohol during the month of August.” I don’t know why I said that. It’s like when your kid is climbing a tree and you need him to come down so you panic and say something like, “If you don’t come down right now, you are grounded fo...