Out of my element..

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Its not easy for us to be house guests.  Our hostess and her family couldn’t be more accommodating, easy going and welcoming.  

By the time Tom returns from work, reads the paper, showers and watches the news, he joins us in time for dinner. We’re both a little tired, yet to fully recover from the packing, the cleaning, the lifting and the hauling.  We try to go to bed by 9 or 9:30.

I’ve been making dinner for six the past two nights, shopping creatively each day to accommodate the diet and likes of each of us in the group of five at Karen’s home.  Mostly, they eat as we do; gluten free, chemical free, starch free and sugar free making this task easier than it might be for some.  

We are enjoying dinners together, all of us sitting at their big square table, a table similar to ours in our now former home, about to be sold along with everything else we own, at our estate sale starting tomorrow. 

Tomorrow morning, I’m scheduled to meet the estate sales people at our house at 7 am to review the final pricing on the bigger items.  Its not easy.  That which we found to be unique, custom made by devoted craftsmen and befitting our lodge-like lifestyle will have considerably less value to a potential buyer. 
When done, I’ll leave, as requested by the estate sale people.  Its too hard to see, they say…too hard to watch one’s lifetime belongings wander down the long narrow road to be placed into the bed of a truck or plopped into the trunk or back seat of a stranger’s car.  Oh.
When I leave our home tomorrow morning, not to return until the sale ends, my dear friends/neighbors and I plan to have breakfast at our favorite local restaurant, The Hazellewood Grill for a meal and our final goodbyes.  

There has been four of us girls as confidants, friends, helpers, supporters 
(now  down to three after Sue left for Florida last Saturday) all of these years. The goodbyes begin.  I knew this was coming.  I avoided dealing with it.

Yesterday, I watched our little three year granddaughter practicing for her upcoming dance recital next Tuesday, the day before we leave. I will be there. Tears welled up in my eyes watching her, knowing the time is near.  Those little faces, those precious smiles, the delicate tiny hand to hold.  Ah.

Awaking with a sore throat today, I best stay in and take it easy.  Today, I must arrange for “renter’s” insurance for our personal belongings.  We are cancelling our homeowner’s policy on Halloween.  

We must set up insurance coverage for our luggage, clothing, digital equipment, all those items I posted here to enhance our world travel experience, all of those items for safety and security, all of those items for comfort and ease.  

When the agent from State Farm in Henderson, Nevada suggested $15,000 in coverage in an email yesterday, I cringed.  Our digital equipment alone will fall into that range. I will make an itemized list sending it to the agent today to ensure we are properly covered.  Its worth paying a little more.
We must set up our new Nevada address and mailing service before the end of the week. I should have done this sooner.  When I started the process of signing up yesterday, I realized that both of our signatures must be notarized. Oh, no. We must do this soon.  Tom doesn’t get done with work in time to go to the bank. I’ve waited too long to do this. I’ll find a solution today.

A week from today, two hours from now, we’ll be packing Tom’s car to begin our journey.  The retirement party will be over, the sale will be over, the tasks will be completed and the goodbyes will be shared.  Ouch.

“Leaving” is bigger than “moving”…

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We are now situated at Karen’s home for the next nine days.  Everything for our stay here is unpacked and put away.  We’re welcomed by Karen and her two sons with open arms. We haven’t been overnight guest in a friend’s home in almost 20 years.  Its an odd feeling.  We’d better get used to being in a home “other than our own” based on the upcoming travels.

This move was more work than any move I can ever recall.  Under normal circumstances, when moving, one opens a drawer, examines its contents and in a somewhat systematic manner proceeds to fill a box with the drawer’s desired contents and the rest is thrown away. Simple.

Later, the box is moved to the new location, either near or afar, opened to reveal its contents while finding an appropriate spot in the new home. Simple. That’s called “moving.”

Nope, not us!  We aren’t “moving”. We’re leaving.  Big difference.  Here’s how ‘leaving” goes:

  1. Open a drawer, examine its contents
  2. Remove all the contents from the drawer
  3. Consider the resale value of each item
  4. Remove all items of sentimental value
  5. Place items of sentimental value in one of four separate boxes (one for each of our children’s families)
  6. Determine if anything in the drawer is appropriate to travel the world with consideration for usefulness, weight and least of all, it’s desirability.
  7. With all items out of the drawer, wash the interior of the drawer.
  8. Place the items to be kept in containers for future packing
  9. Return all remaining items to drawer in a neat and concise manner
  10. Close the drawer
  11. Scream!  Go to the next drawer, closet, cabinet, storage bin, plastic bag, refrigerator, freezer, chest, trunk and repeat the same process, over and over again.
That’s leaving!
In the past few months, finalized in the past few days, we have prepared for the following considerations:
  1. Clothes, medications and supplements, special foods, technology, cords and chargers, toiletries, cosmetics and my special pillow to last us for the nine days here.
  2. All of the above plus comfortable clothes, jackets, cooler, beverages and snacks for the four day road trip which begins in nine days plus…the roof top carrier for the car, yet to be installed.
  3. All of the non-perishable food and supplies purchased at Costco on Saturday for Tom’s upcoming party on Saturday for anywhere from 100-200 guests. I’ll be picking up the food and cake for the party mid-day on Saturday.
  4. Documents, tax receipts, medical records and forms, insurance forms and additional paperwork to attend to in Arizona.
  5. For the two month stay in Scottsdale, Arizona and Henderson, Nevada; everything listed here plus food to purchase while there.
  6. For our upcoming world travels; six suitcases, two carry on bags, a duffel bag of med and supplements, two wheeling carts, two laptop bags, and a purse and a over-sized murse (man purse which Tom hates!).
Done?  Yes.  Much to our surprise.  Exhausted? Yes, but will be better in a few days.
So, I sit here writing this blog in a comfy soft leather love seat, my hot tea in my mug, overlooking the calming lake at Karen’s home, her big fluffy dog Wrigley, sitting at my feet, the chill of fall in the air and for now…I am home.

Burrowing in…

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Tom is still sleeping.  The sun has yet to come up.  I sit in my comfy chair in its original spot surrounded by all of our belongings neatly stacked on tables, arranged on shelves, or placed in new locations, all priced to sell. 

This will be the last time I sit in this chair writing this blog. When I write again on Monday it will be from Karen’s home in a spot I will choose as close to this familiarity as possible. Ah, creatures of habit, we are!  

Perhaps, it is time for me to welcome change. When our precious little Australian Terrier Willie was alive (he went to Doggie Heaven in April 2011), on occasion I took him along to visit friends.  Invariably, he’d find a spot in the corner of their sofa and burrow himself in, wildly throwing himself around in circles as he would at home, burrowing in until he managed the perfect spot. Will that be me?  Burrowing in?

Is it better to let go of the familiar when one makes a radical life change, such as we?  In my logical brain, I perceive that letting go of the familiar will bring personal growth and discovery.  In my emotional heart, I reach for the cocoons where I’ve found solace and comfort.

Yesterday, my dear daughter-in-law Camille showed up once again to help. Alone in the early morning, the estate sale people done with their pricing, I had tentatively faced the cleaning and washing of our three refrigerators, one giant freezer and emptying all the kitchen cabinets filled with food and spices.

My shoulder, still painful and cracking with a SLAP injury and bicep tendon tear made these tasks painful and daunting. Camille did it all as I stood beside her coaching while we laughed, reminisced and held back the tears. I will miss her.

During the day, friends and neighbors stopped in to see our normally impeccable home, as an impossible array of stuff for sale; once warm and inviting, now cold and austere.  Lots of hugs.  The time is near to say goodbye.

We’re still planning on moving out tomorrow before the Vikings Game at noon. Its hard to cook. The stove and all the counter tops are covered and overloaded with kitchen items for sale with nary a place to make my cup of tea, let alone a full meal.  

Tom suggested we cook the remaining homemade low carb, gluten free frozen pizza, one of very few items left in the freezer. It will serve us well tonight and Sunday night as we continue to gather our belongings to take to Karen’s.

At 4:30, I seasoned a boneless pork roast with my few remaining spices, placing it into the oven while still frozen.  Humm…I thought, where’s the meat thermometer?  I always use a meat thermometer.  Oh well, I’ll wing it, I guess.  

At 6:00 PM, Camille gone after a hard day’s work (thank you, my darling who is so there for me, for us), Tom and I walked down the road to say goodbye to our friend Sue who’s leaving at 5:00 am this morning to go back to “their” home in Florida for the winter, for the first time without Chip, her beloved husband and our friend, who sadly passed away at the end of May.  We’ll miss her too.  

We hugged goodbye.  I held her tight, feeling the lump in my throat, the tears welling in my eyes but she, so wounded from sorrow and tears these past months, refused to succumb, gently pushing me back, insisting “We’ll see each other soon.  This is not goodbye.” Tom and I walked silently down the road home, holding hands.

We walked in the door to the smell of the pork roast cooking in the oven, smelling good, so familiar.  I opened a can of Tom’s favorite green beans (oddly, he prefers canned to fresh), made a salad with little room to prepare and sliced the roast. It was done.  No thermometer.  Yes, maybe I can improvise.

We turned on the plasma TV in the kitchen to watch a show we’ve always recorded on the DVR to enjoy during dinner, Shark Tank.  We laughed, we talked. we cleaned our plates  The food tasted good.  Placing our dirty dishes in the dishwasher, I reminded myself to put price tags on them when they’re clean and place them with the other piles of Fiestaware, service for 24, in four different colors.  Goodbye, Fiestaware.  You’ve served us well.

Tom, now awake, showered and dressed, loaded up the car with a portion of our luggage plus food, wine and booze to leave with Karen.  Tomorrow, we’ll bring over the rest.

Soon we’ll join son Greg, Camille and those three little angels, 5, 4, and 3 for breakfast at IHOP in Eden Prairie after which we’ll head to Costco to order food and supplies for next Saturday’s party for Tom. Then, off to Karen’s to unload the car and back here for what we’ve decided will be our final night in our house.

Tonight, after another busy day of work we’ll fall into our ultra comfy Grand King Sleep Number bed, burrowing in, perhaps without “wildly throwing ourselves around in circles” for the very last time.

Moving out on Sunday…

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Its hard to believe that this is finally happening. We’re moving out in 48 hours. There’s no space for us here.

The counter tops, the stove top, every single surface is covered with price tagged items from our lives.  There’s no room for us to maneuver, tending to the daily rituals we have fashioned into our survival, our comfort, our solace. Its gone.  We must go.

I’d move out today if we could but Tom has to work.  We could leave on Saturday but, it will take a day to finish gathering up the last of our belongings, empty and clean the food cabinets, the cold storage room, the three refrigerators and one upright freezer.  

The estate sale people will clean up the house after the sale but we’ll come back to do the fine tuning, leaving it as spotless as possible.  I don’t like this part. I’ve moved twice in the past 40 years. How do I even remember that I don’t like it?

The sale begins a week from today, Friday October 26th, ending on Sunday the 28th, a total of three full days to unload a lifetime of stuff.  Last night, as we roamed from room to room noting the prices on the little pieces of blue tape on each item, we felt we had made peace with our own form of “sticker shock,” with prices too low, not too high. 

A Waterford bowl I had purchased to complete a set, over 30 years ago for $275, still in perfect condition with no signs of wear, is now offered at a mere $18. I could go on and on with such examples.  I won’t.  Its the nature of the beast.  We must accept it and move on.

Its funny how we all value our belongings much higher than the true market value…that which a buyer is willing to pay.  Its that simple.  Any item is only worth that which a buyer will pay.  That’s it.  No fluff. No variables. Question: What will they pay?  Answer: The value! 

We hear someone say, “Oh, that’s worth so much more than I paid.” I am as guilty as the next person claiming to have made a great deal.  From time to time, an item is a great deal, usually when extenuating circumstances preclude a seller to “unload” the product(s) in a short time frame.  That’s us, right now…sell everything we own in three short days. 

Thus, a time frame and a seller’s motivation determine a price, coupled with a buyer’s perception of their “need” of the product (a sense of urgency) and, their willingness to buy now at the right price.  Then, and only then, do we have a sale.  

Optimistically, we anticipate that everything will sell.  What doesn’t sell, we’ll donate to various charities. With the professional appraisals we’ll have on hand, we’ll be able to write off more than the usual $500.  The estate sale people will take care of everything, giving us the appraisals and the receipts.  That’s comforting.

Today, I will scour every nook and cranny in this house to ensure no items were missed, leaving them on a table the estate sale people designated for pricing next week.  I’ll vacuum everything.  I know.  That’s sounds silly.  I always vacuum before visitors arrive.

Tomorrow when Tom is home, we’ll finish the above, pack his car for the move on Sunday morning, spend valuable time with son Greg, daughter-in-law Camille (who continues to be helpful) and three of the precious little grandchildren. Oh. That part is coming.  The goodbye part. We leave in 12 days.

Next time I write in this blog in two days, late in the day on Sunday, I will no longer be sitting in this comfy chair.  We’ll be at dear friend Karen’s lovely home.  I’ll pick an appropriate spot and I will write again knowing that so much is behind us and finally…so much is yet to come.

Estate sale prep…not so easy

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We sending this painting of our house to my sister Julie in California. Goodbye house, goodbye painting. Ah…goodbye sister.

They arrived on time, all five of them, loaded up with bins, tables, price tags, papers, armed and ready to begin sorting and pricing a lifetime of our stuff.

Suddenly, furniture was moved, drawers were emptied and the laundry basket I was using to do laundry was filled with items to be sold.  I quickly emptied it and filled it with my dry laundry to be folded, laundress that I am in the worst of times.

I felt panicky. I’d sent a few texts to friends, eliciting comfort for my stifled hysteria while quietly roaming about gathering endless piles of items to be moved out with us.  They responded with compassion, although I could sense that they were baffled by an appropriate response.

What does one say to a person who has loved to entertain guests, possessing all the perfect accouterments in an effort to make each experience a memorable event for every guest, when all those items become nameless and unattached?  

Wandering from room to room, I felt a sense of robbery, pillage, detachment, not over my personal effects: clothes, cosmetics, jewelry and trinkets.  The sense of loss was born over the those items that I had used for years to create ambiance, warmth, love and sharing with family and friends over a lifetime, or to design a romantic dinner for Tom and I with specially prepared food and thoughtfully chosen drinks, soft music and a fresh bouquet of flowers.

The arrangement of it all, pleasing to the senses with the ultimate desire to have the experience linger.  As they cleared out our aperitif, wine and shot glasses, a plastic enclosed piece of paper dropped to the floor.  I noticed that it sat there undisturbed for awhile while I was cleaning a drawer.  

Picking it up, my heart sank while at the same time a wide smile came across my face from the happy memory. It was a drink list I had prepared from which guests could choose their favorite wine, beer or cocktail.  We kept no less than 15 different brands of beer, 12 types of alcohol, 6 liquors and a wide array of mixes and popular concoctions to satisfy every guest’s personal taste.

Tom or I would said, “Pretend you are at a bar and choose your favorite drink. We will make it for you.”  And make them we did; in the perfect glass served with a  little napkin to catch the drips, an umbrella if appropriate, a decorated little stick to hold pickled mushrooms, olives, onions or maraschino cherries, a slice of orange or a perfectly cut lemon or lime.  This menu of drink options, elegantly typed, slipped through my fingers and into the trash.  No one will buy that. 

The estate sale people, although quite busy with the stuff, took the time to be kind and sensitive in handling all of our belongings and to the reality of the loss. Thank you Jim, Nadine, Jason, Lena, Sheri and Jessica. So kind.

I didn’t cry. Taking deep breaths, answering texts and taking calls from some of my amazing friends; Karen, Chere, Carol, Jamie and Steph, all brought comfort.  My thoughtful daughter-in-law Camille, looming in and out all day, aware of my angst, offered a safe haven every few hours by phone and by text, is coming today. We’ll  spend time with the three little grandchildren while she drives me around, laughter and stories coming from the three little passenger in the backseat.

Stranded that I am, we’ll go to the UPS store to mail the above painting of our house that has hung over the fireplace in the kitchen for years to be sent to my sister Julie in Los Angeles.  Goodbye picture!   

(We’re not ready to face the goodbye of loved ones yet. I’ll write about that  later).

As I sit here in my comfy chair, soon to be moved to a more “sales orientated location,” I write today, an off day.  Usually, I write this blog every other day but today was different.  Perhaps, I will write every day once we are “out in the world” but today was truly different.

We’ve decided to move to Karen’s home on Sunday, getting situated before the Vikings game at noon.  Tom can watch the game on her big screen TV while I go to Costco to order the food and supplies for his upcoming retirement party on the 27th.  So much to do.  So little time.  

Who am I to complain or feel sad?  We have the most exciting life that we could ever have dreamed, ahead of us.  But, that’s the magic of Life. We are allowed to feel, to laugh, to cry, to whine, only moments later to rejoice.  Who’s to say it should be different?

Are there rules regarding the order in which we feel? Should sadness only be reserved for sad times and joy for happy times?  It’s ironic how we often laugh at wakes and funerals and cry at movies, having little to do with the state of our lives at the time. 

I give myself permission to feel a little sad, however fortunate we may be, in the process of letting go of a lifestyle that has so much enriched our lives and filled us with a lifetime of memories.  

Perhaps a year from now while living in Kenya, we will cry when we witness a lioness and her cub sitting along the road as we drive to the grocery store or laugh when a zillion tsetse flies are flying around our heads while we cook outdoors at the braai.

Ah, Life, thank you for being so rich.

Estate sale people here today…

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Yesterday, without question was my biggest packing and sorting day yet.  With a confirmation of the estate sale people arriving at 9 am today to begin pricing all of our stuff, I ran around as directed gathering up all of the items we are taking with us. Tom did the same when he returned home from work. 

Piles of papers to attend to while in Scottsdale, our giant bag of supplements, enough to last two years, our medical and financial records, our tax receipts so far this year, our passports and certifications, have all cluttered our 10′ long dining room table the past few months, in a state of organized mayhem. I moved it all to the kitchen table arranging it in a more orderly fashion.
When the estate sale people arrive here shortly, I will simply point to exclusions; Tom’s bins of memorabilia yet to be taken to a family member’s home for storage, a small section of clothes we’ll wear these next few weeks in bins and hanging in each of our closets, toiletries in the bathroom, our laptops, cables and cell phones.  

In the living room, the sofa and chairs are piled high with bins to be stored with family members which Tom has yet to transport, hopefully this week after work. Our carry on bags, luggage carts, luggage tags, cables and locks sit atop the daybed next to the fireplace.  Today, I’ll move these to the table, out of the way of the sale items.
Last night, son TJ came to take away our boat dock.  He appeared with help, at 6 PM, before we’d had dinner. Tom had been home busy packing for over an hour.  They worked on taking apart the dock and loading it on a trailer for over three hours.  

Tom finally came inside after they left, thoroughly exhausted.. During the day, I had made dinner; low carb hazelnut flour and Parmesan cheese encrusted sauteed chicken breasts, salad and veggies.  We never had dinner. I ate an entire bag of pork rinds.  Oh well.  

He spent the next hour packing the remainder of his memorabilia, took a shower and fell into bed. We never watched the debate, unusual for us.

Today, everything, literally everything else will be priced and labeled for sale, ready for the estate sale market, beginning next Thursday, October 25th and ending, most likely, on Sunday afternoon, October 28th.

We’ll move to our friend Karen’s home one week from today after Tom returns from work, takes his last shower here and we pack up the car with our remaining luggage, clothes for the week at Karen’s and the four day road trip to Scottsdale while we make our final preparations before leaving the US, 60 days later.

In the process of all this packing, we’ve decided that we need a 7th large suitcase to get us to Scottsdale. While there, we will repack everything trimming our packing down to the originally planned six orange Antler bags, two carry on bags, one over-sized duffel bag with prescriptions and supplements, computer bags, murse (he hates it!) and purse.  

Any excess will be given to family or stored at son Richard’s in Henderson Nevada, along with the six totes he’s kindly agreed to store which UPS picks up today for a cost of $304.00.  The heaviest tote at 57 pounds contains a lifetime of photos,  

The remaining six bins are Christmas decorations.  I just couldn’t let them go;  the pictures of the kids and grandkids in the little Christmas frames to be hung on the tree, the homemade ornaments, the Waterford and Swarovski annual ornaments all collected over a period of years.  

No, I couldn’t let these go.  This year, when we are in our Henderson Nevada vacation home for Christmas, the last year in the US for quite awhile, we’ll be able to decorate, not only for the holidays but for Tom’s birthday party on December 23rd.

Tom’s SUV, although fairly roomy doesn’t have enough room for a 7th large bag.  On Sunday, we ordered a waterproof roof top carrier from Amazon.com for a total of $48.95 with no tax and free shipping.  If stolen, it will only contain our clothes from the last two weeks here.  We’ll load it up after breakfast at the hotel each morning when on the road and bring it into our hotel room each night before going to dinner.  No worry there.
The only big event after moving to Karen’s will be Tom’s retirement party for his railroad guys and family members, a hour’s drive away.  With the madness of planning every step of this move, plus 949 days of world travel (so far), I’ve found myself busy this past week planning the details of this casual (thank goodness!) event scheduled for Saturday, October 27, from 5 PM to midnight.  

Fortunately, with many people retiring from the railroad having parties, they have set a precedent for being relatively easy to plan: arrange a hall, order a few kegs of beer, design an appropriate cake (will post photos after the party), arrange for catered food in this case from Costco, while bringing snacks, plates, forks and napkins. 
I’ll pick everything up on the afternoon of the party leaving Tom at Karen’s to relax for a few hours, go back and pick him up and off to the party we go. Happily, it’s all under control.  

Surprisingly, we are calm, although both feeling a little raggedy, Tom from many hours of work combined with hours of sorting and packing and, both of us from our recent bouts of the flu during this past week.  
Fully recovered, my only complaint is that painful “old injury” shoulder, strained from all this lifting and hauling over the past several months. Tom still coughs during the night is only lessened by a hefty slug of Nyquil before bed. Otherwise, we’re doing OK. 

Are we excited?  Hum, not yet. We are often asked this question. We’ve discussed this several times. Having already signed the necessary paperwork on our house, experiencing the loss has definitely diminished the enthusiasm. 

Of course, there’s room for a little apprehension as to everything being finalized as planned on October 31st. Saying goodbye to loved ones leaves much trepidation as well. Yes, these next few weeks may prove to be trying although we both have learned to stay calm during stressful times making a special effort never to snip at one another.  This, in itself, prevents an enormous potential for stress.

Once that day occurs two weeks from today as we drive out of town, Tom now retired, the party over, and after all the tears and goodbyes, we’ll be ready to throw our hats into the air, kick up our heels and grab each other by the hands while twirling around.  
We’ll be off to see the world.  Then, we’ll be able to say, “we’re free,”  free of the constraints of stuff, free of the obligation to maintain a home and finally free from the daily responsibility of a job!  Then, and only then will we become excited!

Goodbye party on the point…Thank you…

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Saturday, at 4:45 pm, after a laughter and tear-filled day spent with son Greg and daughter-in-law Camille, and going through a lifetime of photos, handing off precious bits of memorabilia, enjoying a homemade low carb gluten free pizza, we realized it was time to get ready and head down the street to our party.  

Scheduled to begin at 5 PM, it was a short walk of only four doors down the road to attend a going away peninsula party, hosted for us by our friend Sue.

Twenty six years of blissful dinner parties, cocktail parties, cocktail cruises on the lake, lawn parties, neighborhood parties, 4th of July celebrations, graduations, holidays and birthday parties.  Ironically, each of the three husbands in every other of five houses in a row on the point were born on December 23rd, which included my Tom, Doug and Chip. Coincidence?

(And most recently, hundreds of friends and family members came to celebrate his life and to grieve the loss of our dear friend Chip, Sue’s loving husband’s memorial service at the nearby University of Minnesota Landscape Arboretum. He would have wanted a party, but it was hard to celebrate without him there. Then again, he was there in all of our hearts).

The thoughtfulness, the love and the generosity of a friend, amid the throes of such loss, such grief, so zealously decided to throw a party for us. Mind boggling. Beautifully executed. Gluten-free foods for us. Our neighbors, our friends, in attendance, happy for us, wishing us a great adventure, interminable safety and relentless freedom.

We couldn’t have had more fun. Thank you, dear Sue. Thank you dear friends. How lucky and grateful we are.

Sunday morning, we faced yet another day of seemingly endless list of “to do’s.” Starting our day with a big breakfast of free range organic eggs fried in a dab of coconut oil, topped with guacamole, nitrate free bacon, a thick slab of nitrate free ham and organic chicken sausage with spinach and feta cheese, we were fueled for the day.  

Since we started this way of eating almost 15 months ago, we aren’t hungry all day. Formerly grazers, it’s a pleasant sensation to be comfortably satiated all day, free of the endless search for the next “food fix.”  

Eating low carb, gluten/grain/starch/sugar free diet prevents the addictive centers of the brain from crying for a constant fix of high carb foods. Over the past year I’ve been following the new research that is emerging daily clearly defining that our relentless hunger is a result of blood sugar spikes and brain chemistry.  

By eating a moderate protein, high fat, low carbohydrate diet, we have found it easy to stop thinking about eating, simply enjoying two delicious and satisfying meals a day. More on this later.

So, we hauled our six orange Antler suitcases to our friend Karen’s home where we will reside from the night of October 24th until the day we leave Minnesota, October 31st.  

The thought of staying in our house during the estate sale seemed preposterous to us and to our estate sale guy, Jim Anderson.  Most likely, the furniture will sell first. If returning during the sale, we’d witness the vacant spot where our two comfy chairs had been or, see strangers traipsing down the road with their arms loaded with our stuff.  No thank you.

It’s unusual for us to stay in another’s home.  We seldom traveled over these past years together, rarely feeling compelled to leave the lake or our pups (dog lovers understand). When we did, we stayed in hotels, fearful of imposing upon others in varying parts of the country. 

Let’s face it. I am not the easiest house guest.  Tom is.  Not me.  My family and friends accept my cooking and eating habits along with my endless array of eccentricities around the house; nary a dish in the sink or an item of clothing left in the laundry basket.  

Of course, my ultimate desire is to avoid making others uncomfortable with my peculiarities. Thus, I am somewhat of a “closet” perfectionist. 

It is only this confession that so clearly reveals why all the details of the planning of this year’s long adventure is not laborious to me.  It fuels my passion for the infinitesimal, researched and documented until there is no more. Then, the finale, let it go and enjoy it.    

Thank you, dear husband Tom for accepting my eccentricities with your usual aplomb and great sense of humor, for teaching me to laugh at myself and not taking it all so seriously.

So, house guests, we will be.  I will temper my ways, saving room for the relentless teasing I have so welcomed over the years while trying to simply enjoy the process.  

In 9 days, we move out for good.  In 16 days, we leave.  Thank you, family. Thank you, friends. Thank you, husband. Thank you, God, for them, for the joy they’ve given us and for that which the world has yet to offer.

Feeling better, not perfect…

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Last Saturday night, we attended a 50th birthday party for Tom’s nephew. Tom drank. I drove as usual, which proved to be an hour’s drive each way. 

On the way home, my lively and animated passenger kept me entertained   With his usual jokes, backseat driving and directions, in this case leaving me much better off on my own resources, stone sober that I was.  His ongoing enthusiastic suggestions would surely would have taken us to a dead end road to oblivion.   

Tom seldom drinks.  Tom seldom drinks enough to get noticeably drunk and never has a hangover.  Tom is never sloppy or obnoxious.  He’s funny, very funny. As a result, I gladly drive when he wants to imbibe on those special occasions a few times each year.

Arriving home, he flopped into bed, snoring softly only minutes later. I poured a glass of ice water to leave on his bedside table, just in case he awoke thirsty during the night, along with the two Tylenol tablets. Just in case. 

Sipping iced tea all night, I struggled to fall asleep, finally relenting by taking two Formula 303 tablets, an all natural homeopathic remedy that works wonders getting me to sleep, not necessarily keeping me asleep. (It’s safe to take two more if necessary, that works as well the second time).  

Two hours after drifting off, I awakened to the gut-wrenching sound of gut-ripping coughing and relentless sniffing.  Darn!  He’s got a cold!  How will I ever fall sleep with all of this noise, light sleeper that I am?

Awakened no less than 20 times during the night to these “noises,” in the morning I felt as if I was the one with a hangover, struggling to drag myself out of bed and begin the day.  How can he be sick now, when we have so much to do?  

With his long work hours, he had little time or energy lately to get “his stuff” sorted and packed, mostly tools and memorabilia to give to the kids and grandchildren.  Trying not to nag (not my style) I gently reminded him over the past few weeks that time was marching on.  

Let’s face it, I tend to “over-prepare” well in advance and Tom, bless his heart, is somewhat of a procrastinator. We accept these differences in one another knowing full well, that when it’s time to go, we both will be ready.

As sick as he was all weekend, somehow he managed to work on his piles of papers, attack his boxes filled to the brim, and help me complete the packing and weighing of his luggage, mine done months ago.  

The weekend nights were sleepless for me with his coughing, choking and snorting while he remained relatively unconscious from the big dose of Nyquil PM.  Monday morning he dragged himself to work while I remained at home, minus a car to drive, preparing to get back to packing and sorting.  

On Monday night it hit me, first a little tickle in my throat, a peculiar little cough and a feeling of general malaise. As the sickness left him, it gathered deeply into my head, leaving me useless to perform even the smallest tasks.

In years past, this degree of discomfort would have driven me to go to urgent care for cough medicine, antihistamines and antibiotics.  Not so the case. Practice, practice, practice, I told myself. Practice getting through this illness without a doctor visit, toughing it out, drinking hot tea, eating light, healthy meals, moving about to avoid muscle loss and weakness.  

Last night around 3:00 am, I relented and took a half dose of the Nyquil PM when the coughing wouldn’t stop. Without my contacts in, I couldn’t read the label.  I searched my night table drawer, now nearly empty from cleaning and packing, for an old pair of reading specs.  What I read shocked me! 

Oh, no!  I had just downed high fructose corn syrup!  Is anything free of junk these days? I slugged down the second half of the dose. Tonight, sleep, sweet sleep was more therapeutic and meaningful that my desire to avoid HFCS.  I slept until 7:30 am, feeling better, not perfect, but better.

A wasted number of days with little accomplished, I resigned myself to the reality that when we travel the world, on occasion we’ll be sick, we’ll be tired and we won’t accomplish anything.  

However, while sick this week, Tom (never missing any work) and I both applied for Railroad Retirement. I researched less costly health insurance plans outside the US, finding a  more affordable option (we’ll write more about this later). I contacted social security about my Medicare options, packed several boxes, did more laundry, cooked a fresh dinner each night, made the bed each morning, talked to the pharmacy about purchasing our year’s worth of drugs out of our pocket (sans insurance) at month’s end and on and on.

I can’t wait until we’re gone to be able to spend some time doing nothing. How peculiar that will be. I’ve never “done nothing.”

Today, we’re both feeling better, not perfect, but better.

Twenty one days…

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“They” say it may take 21 days to break a habit.   Yesterday, armed with this assumption, I began the process of changing the familiar routines that so shaped my days over the past two years of my own retirement, over the past 26 years of life here on the peninsula.  

Awakening at 4 am with a rare and unexpected head cold, I rationalized my stuffy nose and sore throat as the Universe’s way of reminding me to slow down, to breathe more deeply, to choke my organized and purposeful actions into a much gentler pace.  

In 21 days these daily habits, entrenched in our lives all these years, will be reshaped into new and unfamiliar patterns; brewing my usual morning tea in a strange teapot, pouring it into a different cup while tasting a slight variance from using bottled water. 

As always, the first sip will be accompanied by my gaze out the window in the near future at the vast expanse of the sea, mysterious and foreboding, as opposed to the cozy comfort of gazing at the lake for all these years, a shoreline in the not too distant horizon, predictable even on the windiest of days.  Not so the sea.

Stuffy head, I welcomed the cold, crisp air on the early morning walk, especially chilly at 32 degrees, fingers numb and tightly tucked into my pockets, having failed to wear gloves.  

Wiggling my toes in my tennis shoes hoping to ward off the cold, I picked up the pace walking almost an hour, stopping periodically to look up at a noisy flock of geese honking their way south or to blow my nose into the soft paper towels I had stuffed into my jacket before walking out the door.

When will I be so cold again?  In Belize, at the little oceanfront house, when the average daily temperature is 83 degrees in the winter months?  In Tuscany, next summer?  Doubtful. In Africa next fall, again a house on the sea, in a time in which it will actually be their spring? Unlikely. Or, in the prime season in Kauai in 2015, the ocean at our doorstep, the warm breezes in our faces? No, it won’t be cold.

The colorful leaves, crispy under my feet, a part of my expectations in any fall season yet to come, will forever be embedded into my memories of seasons so clearly defined.  We’ve enthusiastically welcomed and sadly bid adieu to the seasons, ready to move on to the next, often too cold with record breaking temperatures and snowfalls or, too hot with record breaking heat.

Twenty one days to break the habit of that which we have known and loved, at times bemoaned and begrudged, to begin anew in a strange land, finding our way with a touch of trepidation, with an abundance of wonder and with a never-ending desire to become familiar once again. 

Road trip angst further resolved…

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Like a song stuck in my head (an “ear worm”), I have continued to worry about the security of our luggage while on the four day road to the Scottsdale, Arizona beginning on October 31, 2012 as we commence the first leg of our worldwide year’s long journey.

Yes, we now have the “Club”, the window stickers and the warning lights for the console of Tom’s car creating an appearance that we have an additional armed alarm system along with the factory installed system. 

Our plan has been to take our time on a leisurely drive to Arizona for the two month stay to complete all of our paperwork, obtain our second passports, purchase health and emergency evacuation insurance, prepare our 2012 taxes to be sent by email to our accountant, establish residency in Nevada, apply for Nevada driver’s licenses and get Tom’s new eyeglasses.  

Some have asked why we are spending two months in Arizona when in fact we are establishing residency in Nevada. Before deciding on our worldwide journey, we had decided to spend time in Scottsdale, a  delightful climate and city while contemplating what we wanted to do during this last third of our lives.  

We’d committed to the condo in Scottsdale late last year and chose to honor that commitment, although we could have gotten out of it months ago.  Also, Tom’s two, possibly three of his six sisters will be a short drive from us while they spend their winter in Apache Junction.  It will be fun to spend time with them).

During this period, we will also purchase and set up two new laptops, two new unlocked smart phones and other digital equipment. We’ll spend four days in Henderson mid-November to babysit son Richard‘s dog Monty while Richard is out of town.  It will be rather entertaining to spend some quality time with our grand dog, a rambunctious pug who enjoys sitting on the back of the sofa leaning on one’s shoulder and snorting in one’s ear. 

Our long time friends of 25 years, Lisa and Brian, live only a few blocks from Richard.  As world travelers, foodies and health nuts, we always have plenty of lively and animated conversation.  

In December, we’ll spend eight days in another vacation rental house in Henderson, Nevada (will post photos later), have our final dentist appointments, throw a party for Tom’s 60th birthday on December 23rd and celebrate Christmas with friends and family.  Whew!  We’ll need a vacation after all that!

On December 28th, we’ll head back to our vacation rental in Scottsdale, pack up all our bags, heading directly to San Diego on New Year’s Eve to stay with our niece and her hubby, to finally leave the US on our first cruise which will be through the Panama Canal, on January 3rd.  

In any case, my angst is wrapped around the risk of a thief(s) stealing all of our remaining worldly (no pun intended) possessions out of the back of Tom’s SUV while we’re parked at a hotel or while dining in a restaurant along the way. 

Sure, everything will be insured but that’s not the point.  The point is that I have spent a good chunk of the past eight months outfitting our bags for their contents, commensurate with the particulars of each location in our journey; weather, activities, social events, etc.  

It would be a daunting task if we were robbed. The thought of replacing each well-thought out item while dealing with the insurance company in an attempt to recover our losses, and subsequently continuing on with our plans, is nothing short of intimidating. This dreadful possibility has continued to nag at me over the past week since purchasing the Club and the other “security” items mentioned in an earlier post.  

While driving my car the last time to deliver it to the dealer who purchased it last Friday, a thought popped into my head:  What if we were able to link all of the bags together with two “cut proof” indestructible locked cables?

With each of six suitcases weighing about 55 pounds each, plus about 25 pounds for each of two carry on bags, it would be literally impossible for one, two or more thieves maneuver 380 pounds of bulky luggage, tied together, (also anchored to the interior of the car), unload them and walk them down the street to the own vehicles.  

That may deter a theft, ultimately deciding to steal from a more convenient scenario all the while our alarm is blaring.  As soon as I returned home, albeit “car-less” I started searching online for the appropriate cables.  Here’s what we purchased:

Kryptonite Kryptoflex 1218 Combo Cable Bicycle Lock (1/2-Inch x 6-Foot)

Kryptonite Kryptoflex 1218 Combo Cable Bicycle Lock (1/2-Inch x 6-Foot)by Kryptonite

Price: $21.49 & eligible for FREE Super Saver Shipping on orders over $25. Details 
Product Features

  • Integrated, user-set, four-digit combination lock has indexed number dials for error-free combination setting; adjustable spline attachment rotates up to 240 degrees for variety of lock carrying locations
  • Flexible 12-millimeter braided steel cable with protective vinyl cover offers increased cut resistance; patented EZ Mount transportation system is versatile enough for variety of tube frames and shapes

Tying all the bags together, looping the two cables together and perhaps tying them to the steering wheel, should create a secure situation.  Covering them with our over-sized black tablecloth will provide added security.  Ah, I feel better.

Also, we’ll use the same two cables to lock together each of our sets of bags when we’re wheeling them in each of our 250-pound-capacity rolling carts. Doing so prevents a thief from walking by and grabbing a single bag. This provides us with an additional use of the cables. 

Yes, I do feel relieved enough to let this go to free my mind to continue on with the zillions of other tasks at hand, as the countdown continues, 15 days until we move to our friend’s home, 22 days until we leave. Whew!