I absolutely understand the temptation of opening a store in a small town. There is always the hope that you will be some kind of town center for whatever you sell, a place for like-minded people. And especially that you will have the field to yourself.

Unfortunately, it actually usually works the opposite. Small towns more often than not have even more competition, not less; possibly because the barriers to entry are a bit lower. It only takes one person to open a store; it takes a whole lot of customer to keep it going.

Anyway, I'm not immune to the temptation. There is a new building on the east side of Hwy. 97 just as you reach the outskirts of Redmond, just below the 'old' Walmart. Kinda of a new retro looking building. (Frank's Landing?)

How much fun it would be to put a rocketship on the side the building, call the place, Rocketship Books, carry a bunch of future retro toys and steam punk and designer toys and -- oh, just everything I don't have room for in my store.

If that same building with the same visibility and size was in Bend, I'd be so, so tempted.

But... alas. I already have all I can handle.

So I can still get excited by the prospect by new enterprise. A clean slate. A chance to apply everything I know. I still get a charge out of creating something new, of fighting off disaster, or nurturing a new business. To me, babysitting a business is nowhere near as fun as creating a business.

But what happens when you realize you are 55 years old? I mean, maybe I should just sit back and enjoy.

But, I stopped using the word 'old' a few years ago, because I found myself using it too much, and not enough people demurring. It still pains me to get the 'senior discount' at the theater. I still throw away the ARRP mailers.

I've always looked for business opportunities, I've always enjoyed seeing if I can make something work. If I could clone myself, I'd probably have half a dozen businesses going; I've no shortage of ideas or inspiration.

To me, to say, this is it, this is all you're going to do, just because you're 55 years old feels like laying down and dying.

And yet, and yet. I need to be realistic. I need to 'grow up' at some point. I can't go charging off starting new businesses just because I feel like it.

To hell with that, yes I can.

Retirement has no appeal to me. I still like having something to do every day. Linda, on the other hand, wouldn't mind. I'm hoping that we'll find a middle ground as easily as when we bought a house.

Beforehand, we seemed to have completely different ideas about what house we wanted. I wanted an older, stand alone house, she wanted a newer, necessarily sub-division, low upkeep house. I wanted a big lot so I could garden, she wanted a minimum of three rooms for bedroom and offices for each of us.

Turned out to be no problem at all, we found a 1986 house in an older subdivision with big lots, new enough not to require maintenance. Perfect compromise.

I'm such a unsocial, solitary person (by choice, I think?), that I need that daily stimulus of work. For me, isolation breeds isolation.

So, she'll probably retire, I suspect, and I'll keep working. And I'll probably still have half-baked business ideas in play when I keel over.