My friend Jack called the other night to see how I’m doing almost a month into retirement. I’m doing fine, I told him before we got into another political argument (he thinks Obama’s a Manchurian candidate). God knows retirement is still weird. I’m getting up maybe an hour later than I used to when I worked so I can hang with my wife before she goes to her job. It’s weird, too, because now that the kids are back in school, my days stretch out and it can be lonely. Glad Pearl Marie, the Newfoundland puppy, is with me; we’ve taken many walks we both enjoy, and this August was a great month to leave work, what with its largely beautiful weather. Late summer and fall can be beautiful in Cleveland.

Last Saturday, my former boss threw a retirement party for me. It was small and relaxed and warm. I miss people I worked with and am learning how to network in new ways. I’m into Facebook (a little), deal with a flurry of Linked In communiqués (can anybody explain what that does for them?) and am e-mailing furiously. I’m also beginning to write more on my own website and vow to learn how to post pictures and links in it. Time to go even more digital.

My other newfound pleasure is our house, a money pit with enough room for all of us. My friend Quinn helped me clear out the garage a few weeks ago so this winter, we’ll be able to park both our Scions in it, and I’ve begun to get the weeds out of the driveway. I hope to tackle the basement and upstairs this winter, clearing the house of material that no longer matters; it feels like outgrowing emotional clothes.

Oh, yes—work. I’m reading a lot of books for review and next week will travel to Santa Fe for my first freelance assignment for Lodging Hospitality. Late in September I’m going to Phoenix for the Lodging Conference, where I’ll be doing some work for Asian Hospitality, a London-based monthly. Just because I’m retired doesn’t mean I’m out of circulation.

I’m getting pissed at the Clintons. Drudge cites a CNN source this morning to say Bill’s going to skip Barack Obama’s crucial speech at the Democratic National Convention Thursday night, and Hillary’s supporters are still grousing that Obama isn’t paying off her campaign debts fast or deeply enough. I thought Bill Clinton was a very good president and until Obama came along, thought Hillary Clinton might be good, too.

But now the Clintons are helping John McCain, the Republican presidential candidate with a mind so open it’s leaking, defeat Obama, a guy with various disadvantages: He’s black enough, if not for all, to be defeated by racism, he’s so intelligent some trash him for it, he’s so charismatic the Republicans can denigrate him for not being one of the guys, and he’s singular. Which makes him suspect. But what makes Obama so vulnerable—imagine, even bobblehead Mitt Romney is throwing celebrity-tainted barbs at him—is his rapid rise. Some admire him for his disciplined, digitally innovative campaign. Others castigate him for his ambition. But if he weren’t ambitious, would he be running for President?

What it comes down to is Obama can be targeted as an uppity nigger, a viewpoint the Clintons would strenuously deny. Even articulating that phrase is ugly; I’m sorry I have to. But that’s what’s going on. Obama’s choice of Joe Biden as vice president would seek to bridge the nation’s racial chasm and fill other gaps in Obama’s vita, like experience, foreign policy and a kind of gravitas. But the Clintons, particularly Bill, a man who prides himself on being colorblind, are undercutting Obama as effectively as any Swift Boater might. Which pisses me off. All we need is another four years of retro rule, right?

Friday was my last day of work. I’m officially retired. Tomorrow morning I’ll get up with Karen to keep her company, not because I have an office to go to. I wrote a blog for my old magazine (hey, I worked there almost 19 years and you can reach what I wrote at www.lhonline.com) about leaving. The last month wasn’t easy because I had to balance the work I had to do with my anticipation about my new life.

Friday, after work, I drove to Dayton with my friend Ron so we could spend the next day playing table tennis in the Ohio Senior Olympics. It was my first retirement activity. The drive was peaceful, though wearing on my back (what a drag it is growing old, though I don’t hope to die before I get old and yes, there is life—a lot of it—after 30). I did badly in the singles on Saturday (that match I lost to a southern Ohio hayseed is a mystery to me) but Ron and I did well in the doubles; I drove back with my first medal (silver, OK, not gold) in years, not a bad way to kick off a new phase. Also cool: Ron asked whether I’d help manage a new ping pong club we’re trying to get going in Lyndhurst. No problem; I’ll have the time.

Tomorrow, I’m going to start cleaning the garage. I want to throw out a lot of stuff, sell other stuff, organize it so just maybe, we can park our Scions in it (they’re small). I’ll keep going through the house over the next few weeks to put it into some kind of order, not the easiest thing. I don’t think I’ll feel the full impact of my retirement for at least another week; this coming one will feel like a vacation. I’m looking forward to it.