I now view the cold months here in Northeast Ohio as a personal challenge

Fall began earlier this week, but I've always felt it really coincides with the start of the school year.

By that definition, it has been fall in our city for more than a month. The deeper we get into September and October, the crisper the mornings become. Since May or so, almost all of my morning walks have been done in a t-shirt and shorts. Now the long-sleeve pullovers come out.

It would be one thing if it ended there, and if in a few months we were again enjoying warm mornings and even warmer afternoons.

But that pleasantly brisk 5:30am walk is just the beginning. For those of us on the shores of Lake Erie, there is a long period ahead of falling temperatures that won't bottom out until January/February, perpetually gray skies, and yes, snow and ice.

I never used to think much of the September-through-March slog. It just came and went and you got through it.

But man, I swear the older I get, the longer it seems. Those first signs of warmth in mid- to late March are always welcome, and they always feel like an ordeal we've come through together. But enduring the cold months gets just a bit tougher each year.

Of course, no matter where you live, there are climatic challenges. If it's not hurricanes it's tropical humidity (or both). Or much worse cold than we get here. Or unending rain.

Our weather issues probably aren't any more difficult to deal with than anyone else's. It's just...boy, I don't know how a six-month period can suddenly feel like it's years long, but it does.

Oh well, we'll live. Terry and I have talked about becoming snowbirds eventually, but for now, we grin and bear it.

OK, admittedly, I'm not grinning.

Should we stay or should we go? The big question for emerging empty nesters

When people ask how old our kids are and how many still live with us, I like to say we're "empty nesters in transition."

And we are. The two oldest live on their own, while the younger three are still with us in the house. In the next few years, we'll see at least one more leave if not two.

Actually, if you think about it, all parents are "empty nesters in transition" from the moment their first child is born. The minute that kid comes out, you begin your job of training them to live and thrive on their own.

Over the past year, Terry and I have had our first serious and semi-detailed conversations about what happens in the next phase of our lives. We've been doing this kid thing since 1994, and while you never finish being a parent, we'll probably be well and truly on our own within the next decade.

We've talked about moving. We've talked about being true snow birds and spending the winter months somewhere down south, though the thought of that makes me feel 80 years old.

We've also talked about staying in this house, where we've already lived for nearly 18 years, a while longer. Yes, it's bigger than we're going to need, but the upside is that you can repurpose rooms however you want. Terry has already commandeered one upstairs for use as a craft room, and I would love eventually to have an office/music practice room.

Within the past few days as I type this, we've had two guys over the house to talk about redoing the basement floor and the master bathroom. These are the types of expensive projects you don't necessarily undertake if you plan to sell your home any time soon.

So for now, here we'll stay. And for now, we'll enjoy the ups and downs of having older kids in the house with us. It's not a bad stage of life to be in, really.

Here's what I learn about retirement every year during my two-week holiday break

I'm writing this post about two weeks in advance of when it will actually publish, so I'm still in the middle of a 16-day holiday vacation from work.

I used to take these two weeks off mainly to spend more time with the kids, put their Christmas toys together (and play with them), and generally just rest and recharge.

I still use the break to rest and recharge, but every year I also see it as a small dress rehearsal for the part of my life when I will no longer work full-time.

The way things are shaping up, retirement is likely a good decade-and-a-half away for me. Our financial advisor asked me when I wanted to retire, so I randomly picked age 67. And that's very much a possibility.

Many of the people I know around my age are closer to walking away from the 40+ hours a week routine than I am, particularly those who work in government jobs and teaching, and/or those who have spent most of their careers with very generous companies that have padded their 401(k)s.

For me, though, retirement is still pretty far out on the horizon. In preparation for it, these two-week vacations have taught me a few things I'll need to know when it finally gets here:

(1) I'm going to need a part-time job. I can't just stop working. I will get too bored too fast. My dad drove a delivery truck and worked as a school janitor in his retirement. I don't know what I'll do, but I'll have to do something. If nothing else, it will keep Terry from killing me as I wander around the house wondering what I should do.

(2) I'll need to have defined hobbies. I wrote about my leisure-time activities recently. They will be especially important in retirement when it comes to providing fulfillment and some sort of purpose in life beyond career advancement.

(3) I would rather not cut grass or shovel snow in retirement, if I can help it. Terry and I have talked about being snowbirds in our golden years, and that may happen. But if we're spending any part of the year in Northeast Ohio, we're either going to have to live in a condo or hire a landscaping/snow plowing service to fulfill this desire of mine. I'm down for anything, just as a long as I don't have to push a lawn mower or wield a snow shovel anymore.