I don’t really like talking business at 9:30 pm, so even though I enjoy chatting with Julie, I was a little dismayed when it was her voice at the other end of the telephone call last night. She somehow got it into her head that I’m a night person, and to her that translates as my being available for consultation until well past happy hour (or the non-drinking equivalent, whatever that is).

Still, it was the first time I’ve talked to her in two weeks, since she went on vacation with the Boss for her birthday bash (or the Texas equivalent, whatever that is). And she had good news for me. She’s been my advocate when it comes to planning for retirement.

She’s been my advocate mostly because I haven’t done any advocating for myself. I hardly even think about it, which is why I need an advocate. I’m just glad I didn’t have to ask anyone (or hire anyone) to do it for me. She gets a charge out of the kinds of confrontations I spend so much energy avoiding. Going head-to-head with the Boss on matters that might or might not concern her directly? That’s her idea of fun.

When last we visited this topic, I was being advised to look around for land to invest in. We were going to inquire about a 401K plan, which as I understand it is a sort of government-subsidized pension. But upon talking it over with the accountant, Julie has changed her advice. And since I have nothing else to go on, I’m following it.

The plan now is to keep reinvesting the profits made by the Kennel. So far since we’ve taken over, the rate of return is at least four times what I could make in any other investment. The accountant was so impressed with the profitability of our little venture that he checked all the figures twice.

Yes, the Kennel is making money. And yes, the best place to put the money I make is right back in the Kennel. No income tax going in, no capital gains coming out. And apparently we have Bush and Enron to thank for that, but I’m not taking that part of the story as gospel. I’ll thank them when they stop stealing money from widows and orphans.

Any of their shenanigans that afford me a collateral benefit will be collected without attribution. In fact, I probably should assume that by the time I’m ready to retire, they’ll have thought of a way to take it away from me and line their own pockets with it. I’m basically not a cynical person, except when it comes to Republican politicians and their handservants (or the corporate equivalent, whatever that is).

We talked for a good long time last night, Julie and I. I made her say it three or four times, just to be sure I was understanding. In ten years or so, if I decide it’s time to retire, there will be enough money for me to live on comfortably. The only things that could get in the way of that outcome are those unforeseen circumstances that are so difficult to foresee. That’s where my lack of cynicism comes in handy. I choose hope.