By Carol Talley May 11, 2003

Last updated: Sunday, May 11, 2003 1:53 PM EDT

Semi-retirement, as it turns out, was a sabbatical of sorts.

The deadlines never stopped because I still wrote editorials and my column. So I never got out of the habit of scouring the newspaper. And my fingers didn't get a chance to forget the home keys of asdf or jkl;.

Don't get me wrong: I enjoyed every minute because I convinced myself I was like some eagle flying high and free at last. Freedom, however, is delusive, illusive and elusive.

What I did gain was more time to be at the beck and call of the grandkids, who made me the late afternoon lottery prize.

Monday was Sam's day to be picked up straight from school unless he had basketball or baseball practice. Thursday was Kate's time. Wednesday was Matt's day. Amanda filled out whatever day she didn't have another activity, which sometimes confused the routine.

Popularity is a great time-eater. They competed for my time and called me earlier and earlier each week to beat each other out on appointments for sleepovers.

They listened at school when the names for pickups were read over the public address system to see who I was taking. They made deals to infringe upon each other's days so that I wound up with a carload.

I learned how to simultaneously do homework with three second-graders. I became a preferred customer for PG movies and popcorn. I was outbowled by 8-year-olds, outplayed by them at poker and even was beaten at pickup sticks.

Yes, I became the habit of the 7 to 11 crowd, with the 4-year-olds demanding equal rights.

I further discovered:

• The mail doesn't arrive at the same precise moment each day.
• The "X-Files" are rerun almost as much as "Law and Order."
• Telephone marketers substitute for a 10 a.m. wake-up call.
• The electric bill goes up and the toilet paper supply goes down in direct proportion to the amount of time I'm home.
• Privacy is lost when the cats become so possessive they whine, complain, scratch and bounce off the walls when I lock them out of the bathroom.
• I could talk myself blue in the face trying to make anyone believe I was too busy to undertake anything new because every task I undertook expanded to fit all available time.
• Food becomes one interminable snack.
• As in the days of infancy, it's easy to turn nights and days upside down and inside out.

Just about the time I got all of this down pat, my sabbatical wound down. I agreed to turn over a new leaf by returning to work as in those old sequel movies featuring the "Return of Zorro" or whoever.

The new to-do list looks like this:

• Learn how to set the alarm on the fancy clock my kids bought me after I stopped going to the office.
• Diet! Some of my work clothes are too tight.
• Put newly broken-in jeans along with the ones with the hole in one knee and split seams further back in the closet again.
• Remember, this is the last night I can burn the 2 o'clock wee morning oil.
• Give the grandkids my "work" numbers again.
• Stop putting off finding the car keys until tomorrow.

Some people, I guess, can retire and mean it. I suddenly find myself refueled. In catching up on the reading I couldn't get done before, I got this yen to try being one of those one-minute managers who learn how to take the work out of work.

Perhaps I can't get the thought of meeting challenges dead-on out of my head. Maybe I'll just never get the ink out of my blood. Or it could be I just don't understand the basics of dealing with freedom.

Whatever. I stopped in to talk and blow the dust off my desk and look for a key to the filing cabinet at The Sentinel the other day. I found some things are just the way I left them but I don't have a chair.

While there, Managing Editor Fred Burgess asked me about a feature bill. In a profound moment of instant recall I spit out the figure we paid for it monthly as though I'd never been away.

That's reassuring, since it means I'm not entirely senile, but also frightening because it also means this kind of stuff is ingrained in the brain.

But enough of trying to figure out the difference between a semi-retirement and a sabbatical. They both start with an "s," which makes them swappable.

The bottom line is I feel good about going back tomorrow. And I hope I can help my colleagues make their newspaper better every day in every way.