Car sold!…Seamless transaction…

In a 24 hour period from Thursday to Friday, I drove over 150 miles around town, meeting prospective buyers to finally sell my car.  Slightly nervous about meeting strangers, I chose public parking lots, close to busy roads.  

Tom suggested I turn over the keys to any prospective buyers to test drive it on their own rather than join them, better to have a stolen car than to be kidnapped!  I agreed.

Listed on Craigslist for free, CarSoup for $9.95 for one month and Auto Trader for $20 for one month, I was delighted to notice an increase in activity when I placed the last online ad on Auto Trader, resulting in a sale only a day later. Had I known Auto Trader reached such a wide audience, I would have listed it there in the first place. Who knew?
The last car I’d sold several years ago was the result of an ad in CarSoup. This time, I didn’t have much time to be overly creative or frugal. With our high level of motivation I was determined to get the car sold as quickly as possible, leaving one more crucial task out of the way.

Oddly, it sold to a dealer, Patrick O’Conner/owner/dealer of a finance company, First Source Financial. Patrick had a potential customer on hand.  My instincts told me that his buyer may have required “special financing” allowing him to resell it at a higher price than he paid me, a price with which I was satisfied. Win, win for everyone.

Treated with kid gloves, not only did I feel at ease throughout the transaction working with Patrick but also with his delightful assistant Jennifer, who was kind enough to drive me the long way home after I’d dropped off the car at his dealership on Friday. 

It was an odd sensation when Jennifer left me at home. Looking out the window, I realized that for the first time in my adult life, I didn’t have a car of my own. For a moment I felt trapped, even lost.  Tom’s long work days left me at home certainly with plenty to occupy my time over the next 17 days when we move to our friend’s home as the estate sale begins.  

Suddenly, everything is moving quickly. While grocery shopping early in the morning before turning over the car, I carefully calculated each item that I purchased to ensure that it was “just the right amount” to last through our remaining days.  I started saying goodbye to the staff of many years at our local grocery store, knowing that I may only be back one or two more times.  How odd.

I’ve lived in this general area of the western suburbs of Minneapolis for the past 40 years, seemingly far away yet only 30 minutes to downtown.  For years we used the same bank, the same library, the same State Farm office, the same drugstore, the same Target store, and the same post office. 

On Tuesday, I sadly said goodbye to the staff at the post office while dropping off a package. Over the years I’ve come to know and  appreciate each one of them for their kindness, their great service and for remembering me each time I entered their door.

We won’t be able to say goodbye to everyone. The time is flying by so quickly that I am now left wondering how everything will get done in time, let alone having time to see everyone to say goodbye. Now, with no car, I am dependent upon friends and loved ones coming here to say goodbye.  Some will come, others will not.  I accept this.  
That which seems so huge and meaningful to each one of us is often, but a blip to others, as we all get caught up the whirlwind of our daily lives seeking a sense of achievement, of fulfillment and of responsibility.  
I have no expectations other than to embark upon this adventure with an open heart and eager mind, to learn, to grow, to experience and of course, to share. 

Not only will we share this life changing experience with one another, but with all of our readers who may in some small way find their own sense of discovery in the never-ending details, the not so professional looking photos, from the heartfelt perspective of two determined retirees as they travel about the world.

Glitches, resolutions and more health insurance research…

We knew there would be glitches.  We’ve planned for them.  We’ve built emergency funds into our budget.  And here we are, not even out the door and a glitch occurs. Oh.

As we approached the 90 day sail date of our first cruise on the Celebrity Century on January 3, 2013 , our final payment was due.  This first cruise was more expensive than a number of our other cruises but Tom wanted to see the Panama Canal during its state of construction and this was a perfect time.

We justified the expense with it providing us with not only 15 days of cruising to the Panama Canal, but a final destination of Fort Lauderdale, leaving us in place to board yet another ship for our cruise to Belize.  Perfect!

My calendar marked for this upcoming balance due of $4645 after having paid a $900 deposit some months ago, I was prepared to pay in full this past Wednesday.  

In an effort to keep as much as possible of our credit cards free of any large balances, I paid using an American Express card (getting points) and our debit card (no points).  Alas, an error was made by Celebrity’s processing department and my debit card was charged an additional $2400 over and above the amount I had authorized.  

As a result, we had paid $7945 for a $5545 cruise. I don’t know about you, but unless a situation such as this is remedied in a matter of minutes, I can get a little testy, not so much rude as stern and extraordinarily persistent. Yes, very persistent.  

I kept reminding myself, after an hour of the phone whereby the cruise line could not detect that they overcharged us, to stay calm. Our bank account said otherwise.  We had expected these situations to occur.  Its all part of the process.

With no resolution, I called our bank, filed a claim after producing evidence of all the payments to prove we had overpaid. Jean, a very helpful banker was clearly willing to assist without hesitation.  

She not only hadn’t filed the claim upon email receipt of my documentation, (proving cost of the cruise and all payments, including that which was made with American Express), she put the $2400 (the bank’s money!) into our account  cover the difference. I had some bill pay payments in the process and had not prepared my checking account for this unexpected amount.  Sure, I could have transferred funds to cover this, but when they offered, I jumped all over it.

After more email communication with Celebrity the refund appeared this morning, much to my relief. Immediately I sent the bank an email requesting that they drop the claim and take back their temporary $2400. Whew!  

I knew it would eventually be resolved.  However, I didn’t want to spend valuable mental time these next crucial days (we move out in 20 days for the estate sale) thinking about this a possible 10 day period, the usual time to dispute a claim.  Thank you, Jean.  Thank you, bank.  Giving her this blog address, I hope she reads this post and knows how grateful we are.  

I always try to insulate Tom from these situations.  He works. I’m retired and besides, I must admit, I kind of enjoy the satisfaction of getting issues resolved as quickly and efficiently as possible.  No voice-raising, no name calling, no threatening and thus diplomacy prevails when backed by solid evidence. Love it!

In the past several days a bit of angst was “wafting” (love that word) around my brain that maybe, just maybe, we could get a better price on a worldwide health insurance policy for me when Medicare will kick in on my birthday next February. The thought of paying $432 plus $107 for Medicare makes me cringe, especially when Medicare doesn’t cover me outside the US. 

After contacting no less than a dozen companies over the past week I stumbled across what proved to be a delightful experience; email and phone communication with Gerry Mould of April Medibroker Ltd in the UK.  Gerry Mould took the time to prepare a substantial list of options for me (Tom is five years younger than I and will have a retiree policy through his company until he goes on Medicare in 2017) and also spent considerable time on the phone with me from the UK, answering many questions regarding our somewhat unique situation.  

Had we been able to acquire an address outside the US (their company is not licensed in the US), we would have been able to apply for a policy saving us over $2000 a year for coverage equal to or better than that which we have been planning with the State Farm supplement that also provides international coverage.  

Unfortunately, we won’t be able to work with Gerry Mould at this time. Who knows? Maybe someday we’ll be considered official “expats” and actually have that foreign address.  In the interim, I’ve left a message for our State Farm agent to review my health insurance quote when he returns from a convention next week.  Perhaps, we can find a less costly option. I’ll report back.

Now, I am off to see if i can complete the transaction on the sale of my car!  In either case, I will report back. With possibly no mode of transportation during the day, I’ll spend my time getting back to the issues at hand…completing our packing. 

I can’t wait to be on the road on our way to Scottsdale after all the tearful goodbyes, the finalization of the sale on the house, the move to a friend’s house for a week during the sale, the planning of Tom’s retirement party with his co-workers and family, the completion of the packing of Tom’s bags, working on the redesign of this blog with the web designers, filling the year’s worth of prescriptions, attending the neighborhood party our friend Sue is having for us next weekend and all the tearful goodbyes.  Ah, yes, all the tearful goodbyes.

Last visit with Nurse Marsha…Ouch!

Never in my entire life have I walked into a medical clinic and felt so welcomed. Only minutes after I checked in, Nurse Marsha, head travel clinic nurse at Park Nicollet Travel Clinic, warmly greeted me, telling me how enthused she was to see me on her schedule for my last round of injections.

She knew how anxious I had been about possible side effects through this entire process, having had a few frightening immunizations in the long ago past. My fears were worsened after many hours of relentless online research looking for all the reasons why one should not be subject to such an obvious health risk.

My greatest fear was the yellow fever vaccine, well known for disastrous outcomes in a small fraction of the recipients. Alas, we survived. Tom was a little queasy and flu-like for one day and for me, I lapsed into bed midday for four hours of  uncomfortable thrashing about, to fully recover in time to cook a lovely dinner.  The worst was over.

Nurse Marsha was delightful, bubbly, and concerned for us, for our safety and for our joy. Lively and animated banter ensued between us as my heart grew full with her charm and interest.  For the first time in this process, I freed myself from the monumental tasks at hand, allowing a wave of excitement to wash over me, which I had held at bay all this time, fearful of losing focus.

Upon leaving I handed her our card for this blog, which she enthusiastically accepted, promising to follow along with us. Perhaps, knowing the vital role she played in our health as we travel the world over the next several years. Thank you, dear Nurse Marsha. Thank you for easing us along the way.

Yesterday’s injections:  the final booster of three Twinrix injections, for Hepatitis A and B, (ow, ow, ow!  Painful!), the latest flu vaccine (nothing to it) and the take home Typhoid Live Vaccine.   (Apparently, there is now a shortage of the Typhoid vaccine, which wasn’t the case only a few weeks ago when Tom received it).  

Over a period of eight days, I must swallow one of four live Typhoid vaccine tablets (now safely residing in our refrigerator) every other night at bedtime with a full glass of lukewarm water.  Nurse Marsha explained the importance of taking this pill at night on an empty stomach to reduce the risk of stomach distress as opposed to the morning when one’s stomach would be more empty after a night’s sleep. 

Of course, I complied. At 10 pm last night I poured myself a huge glass of tepid water and chugged the pill. Nothing happened. Good. I went to bed anticipating awakening during the night for a trip to the loo. Well, lately I’ve been waking up at 3:00 am anyway, after a run of convoluted dreams of hotels and other people’s homes, my mind racing with the upcoming tasks of the day.

Oddly, I slept through the night to awaken at my usual 5:30 am, ready to tackle the day, happy to feel well, happy to have slept through the night.

My vaccines are almost over, with three more Typhoid pills to take over the next six nights.  Tom must have his final Twinrix booster after his final waiting period ends November 22, 2012.  Son, Richard gave us the name of his doctor in Henderson, Nevada.  We’ll arrange the appointment soon for one of the few times we’ll be in Nevada in November and December.  

After about 15 injections, my share of needless worry, multiple trips to see Nurse Marsha with only a few hours of discomfort, we’re appreciative of the manner in which she eased the way, by that which she taught us about food and water safety when traveling abroad and most of all, enriched by simply knowing her.

Today will be another busy day; off to the office supply store for an ink cartridge for the printer (ran out of ink with documents to print before we go) and to buy a portable keyboard for my laptop. (We’re buying new lightweight laptops while in Scottsdale after Window 8 releases). In the past few days, the case broke and now the keyboard requires Herculean effort to press a key.  Not surprising, huh?

Clothes, clothes and then more clothes…

Tom never wore this jacket. It’s the wrong size for any of our sons.  It will be sold at the sale.  Bye, bye jacket.

We aren’t pack rats.  We don’t have clothes hanging in our closets with price tags still attached, with the exception of this Columbia jacket I purchased for Tom last Christmas. He liked this jacket, deciding to save it to wear it this upcoming winter in order to get one more year’s wear out of an older jacket. This upcoming winter we’ll be Belize.  He won’t be wearing it.

We’re not shopaholics.  As a good laundress, as mentioned in an earlier post, our clothing usually lasts for years.  A few times a year, I’d bargain shop for clothes for both of us, usually at the Outlet Mall, printing off their online coupons before shopping and using an additional coupon booklet for deeper discounts.

I’d usually come home with three or four bags of 40 or more items spending  an average of $5.00 to $7.00 per item. The remainder of our clothing shopping occurred online.  I’d usually purchased my jeans online at Gap or Old Navy, and occasionally purchase new and unused jeans on eBay

Wearing an odd size, a small with an extra long inseam of 35,” it’s been necessary for me to order jeans online at these two web sites that magically can accommodate my needs.  Knowing the fit of their jeans enables me to buy online, seldom requiring a return. 

Over the past 8 years, I have accumulated 12 pairs of jeans, most of which are in near perfect condition, none of which will travel the world with us.  In 2004, I lost 50 pounds.  My friends and family complained I was too thin (ah, love those words!)  

Over the years, I purposely gained back 8 pounds in an effort to stop their whining, now holding steady for the past 3 years.  Most of those jeans are a little tight, although I’ve continued to wear them.  They won’t go with us.  Tom and I both decided that not one uncomfortable item will go into our suitcases. Not one.  The 12 pairs of jeans are going into the “to be sold” pile.

Sunday morning, before the Vikings football game (way to go Vikings!), Tom and I tackled (no pun intended) his dresser drawers and walk-in closet.  Our goal was to complete the packing of his following:

  1. Clothes to wear on the four day road trip to Scottsdale
  2. Clothes to wear in Scottsdale, Arizona in November and part of December, during their cool but not cold season
  3. Clothes to wear for our eight day trip to Henderson, Nevada over Christmas for the very cool winter weather, as low as 35 degrees any morning.
  4. Clothes to be packed, all of which is already purchased for our first three years traveling the world.

It didn’t go quite as planned. Once we started emptying the drawers and going through his closet, for a few moments I felt a pang of being overwhelmed. Having gradually worked on my clothes over several months it was relatively stress free.  Tackling this job in one day was quite the task.  Stay calm, I reminded myself.  I stayed calm.  So did Tom.

We got in a groove, only interrupted by the football game, to have completed most of the above items.  By 4:30, we called it a day.  All we have left to do in regard to Tom’s clothing is to pack everything in the three large orange Antler suitcases, next weekend for sure.
Suffering with an old shoulder injury severely stressed recently from all this packing and lifting, I was relieved to be lazy, to spend the remainder of the evening with an ice pack on my shoulder.  In a few weeks, I’ll get my last Cortisone injection to begin the healing process having finished all of this packing for at least the next few months.

We flopped into our comfy chairs following a delightful dinner of grass fed jumbo meatballs, stuffed with buffalo mozzarella cheese, topped with homemade marinara sauce and Parmesan cheese, a side of fresh green beans and a Cobb salad, all of which was low carb, gluten free, grain free, starch free and sugar free.  
We’ll be done in 23 days when we move out of our home to stay with a friend until the 31st, Tom’s last day, the day we leave, the day we say goodbye and the day our new life begins.

CarSoup and security…I’ll take a bowl of that!…

It may be going a little overboard!  For $34 at Amazon.com we purchased these three items putting my mind at ease.

Months ago, Tom and I easily came to the conclusion that owning a car in the US while traveling the world was both foolish and costly. As we’d mentioned in a recent post, it will be peculiar not to own a car which took us a few days to accept.  With only a few calculations, we knew it was the right decision.

Tom’s car, only two years old, still has a remaining balance on a loan. My car also has a loan, a small remaining balance after having bought out the lease a few years ago when offered an irresistible deal for a below market price, certification and an extended warranty. 

Our combined payments are $1048 a month. Add in the auto insurance at $152 a month (me, fender benders!), maintenance at $100 month (my warranty ran out), gas at $300 a month (estimated after retirement for both cars) for a monthly total of $1600.

Keeping a car in the US would have resulted in the continuation of most of these expenses with the $300 a month intended for gas instead going to the cost of storage. Ridiculous!  We had no difficulty making the decision to sell both cars. Most certainly, we can rent cars for considerably less than this amount anywhere we may be in the world

Selling my car in October presents a dilemma: I will be without a car for a few weeks at most.  I can manage by working out and grocery shopping when Tom is home after work and on the few remaining weekends.  

Most of my time these last weeks will be spent completing the packing, cleaning and organizing. Family and friends will visit me here for the next three and a half weeks, until we move to our friend’s home for the remaining week, October 24th to October 31st, our departure date.  We’ll be out of the way during the estate sale. 

Yesterday, I listed my car for the seven day free trial at CarSoup.  If it doesn’t sell in a week, I’ll re-list it committed to the minimum one month contract for $9.95.  What if it doesn’t sell?  

The Cadillac dealer from whom I purchased my car new, most likely will buy it. A few months ago, I’d received a letter from them, inquiring as to my interest in selling them my car. Their used car inventory was low.  Serendipity.  Of course, the price will be much lower than my possible private sale, but at that point, I’ll have no alternative.

Here’s my ad on CarSoup, in case you know of anyone that may be interested. Hopefully soon, gone, gone, gone.

As for Tom’s car, we’ve made a carefully analyzed decision to drive his 2010 SUV to Scottsdale, Arizona for our last 60 days in the US. With its great gas mileage, space for all of our luggage, navigation system and a great security system we’ll be at ease with our decision.  We’ll also drive the SUV to Henderson, Nevada for Christmas with family and friends, finally driving ourselves to the pier in San Diego, for our first cruise. 

We are offering our prospective buyer a good price (a person well known to us), to fly to San Diego and pick up the SUV at the pier, where we’ll have left it on January 3, 2013.  We’ll have financial matters completed prior to this time and have sent him a set of keys.  Easy peasy.  If anything falls through (we always have to have a Plan B), we’ll engage the same practice as for my car, sell the car to a dealer, taking the hit. Whoosh!  $1600 a month, gone!

My next auto related concern: all of our luggage in the back of Tom’s SUV while we make the leisurely four day drive from Minnesota to Arizona.  Our condo in Scottsdale won’t be available until November 4th.  We thought it would be great to take our time during Tom’s first four days of retirement having fun along the way.  A road trip is a great way to start our year’s long adventure!

So again, me worrying.  What if the SUV is vandalized or stolen and our bags, all six of them, are ripped off?  Of course, we’ll be insured. But suddenly, all of our worldly possessions would be gone. Everything. Nada. All of the hundreds  of hours spent researching and buying just the right clothing and products, for at least the first three years of our travels, gone. Scary!  What would we do?  

We’ve discussed this possibility.  We’d continue on to Scottsdale, clothes on our backs with 60 days to find and replace everything we would have lost. Stressful, yes. Frustrating, of course. Doable, yes.

A solution, although not a guarantee, was to amp up his SUV’s security. First, we tested the functionality of his factory installed car alarm.  Next, we made a conscious decision to only stay in motels whereby the SUV will be parked outside our room door.  Also, we’ll be signing up for OnStar for the 60 day period at $18.95 a month.  If the car is stolen, it can be tracked by GPS, immediately reporting to the police.  

With highly sensitive hearing and as a very light sleeper, I’ll sleep with the key fob in my hand (I’ve slept with the TV remote in my hand all night. Why not the fob?).  If I hear a sound, I’ll set off the alarm long before the car alarm goes off, hopefully scaring away a possible thief.  

We are subject to many variables in regard to our two vehicles over the next 90 days.  We have accepted these somewhat painstaking scenarios are part of the process in order to be able to eventually lounge in a lawn chair, overlooking the ocean, knowing this “vacation” may never have to end.  

I’ll tell you how that feels when it happens.

Bye, bye, musical memories…

A few hours later the CDs were organized and ready to be sold at the upcoming estate sale. 

Having not moved in 26 years, it’s difficult for me to comprehend having everything in order in 20 days when the estate sale people arrive to start the process of sorting and pricing our belongings.  Ouch! Moving in the past seemed easier: pack, label and seal cardboard boxes, moving them to the next home, placing the boxes in the appropriate rooms to begin the process of unpacking. 

We’ve all experienced this at different times in our lives and although a stress laden experience, we all have managed our way through it to eventually unpack and put it away. The goal was to unpack neatly with the hope and expectation that the cupboards, drawers and closets would stay organized forever. Ha!

As I look around our house, decorative items still on the shelves, clothes still hanging in closets, pictures still on the walls, I see piles of boxes of photos and memorabilia ready to be mailed or dropped off to our grown children including boxes of special items to be distributed to the grandchildren as they mature; boxes of items to be sold at the sale and our never ending pile of luggage.  

Have I gone through every nook and cranny in this house, extricating the memorabilia or items that we may choose to take with us on our travels?  Our estate sale guy promises we’ll have one last time to peruse the items prior to the sale to ensure we haven’t missed a handmade treasure from our child’s or grandchild’s art class. That’s comforting.

In the past few days, I’ve removed every personal item from my car which is to be offered for sale next week on CarSoup where I had successfully and seamlessly sold my last car years ago, in a matter of a few days. 

In the process of cleaning my trunk, glove box and center console, I discovered no less than 15 music CDs most of which were installed in the multi-CD player.   Bringing them inside the house to sort and place them back into the cases, it dawned on me that I had yet to sort the 100+ music CDs we have accumulated in the house over the years.

As I handled each one, “memories flooded my mind” of disco dancing days, romantic dinners for two and quiet reflections to “new age” music so popular in the 80’s.  The thought of our magical Christmas’s, with music filling the air during our festive holiday celebrations, brought tears to my eyes. 

Ah, letting go of stuff, the process continues. One month and one day from today, it will all be gone.  What will remain? The memories. The memories. And the memories. 

X-Ray views of our travel jackets…

It would be no exaggeration to say that I have spent no less than 20 hours searching online for travel jackets for both Tom and me.  Our goals were simple: functional, all weather, comfortable, affordable and attractive. 

After the first 10 hours, I threw “affordable” and possibly “attractive” out the window.  When buying coats and jackets for us over the years, I’ve always relished in the search for the $500 jacket on sale for $195, throwing a 20% coupon in the mix for a great jacket purchased for a grand total of $156. 
With no sales tax on clothing in Minnesota, we’d be thrilled with the total acquisition cost, wearing the jacket over several years.  As a good “laundress” I’d be able to wash and dry them each year in order for them to look like new for the following year.  

Tiring of our jacket years later, long before they’d wear out, we’d donate them pleased to know that the recipient could enjoy many more years of wear. On occasion, a treasured well-fitting, good looking jacket would remain in the closet for years to come. We struggled to let it go. Would we ever wear it again? Probably not. But the attachment remained.

In frigid Minnesota, one becomes particularly attracted to warm, comfortable, functional jackets that when donned, provide us with a feeling of who we really are, or in some cases, who we’d really like to be.  Funny how an article of clothing, an inanimate object, can do that.
When the search for jackets began months ago, I took it quite seriously.  Tom poo pooed jacket after jacket that I had sent to his inbox.  At night after work, as he’d peruse upwards of 100 email jokes that had filtered in throughout the day, he’d see a subject line from me, reading, “Honey, I found your jacket! Look at this one!”

My heart sank each time he shook his head saying, “Naw, not this one.”  After awhile, I gave up asking why he didn’t like my most recent find. His answer never brought me one step closer to finding what he would like.  

I suppose it’s not unlike falling in love we just do. It’s the way that wispy chunk of silky hair falls over their right eye, the flash of white teeth in a winsome smile, or the laugh, so frequent, so sincere, that makes us fall in love. Over time, the wisp of hair becomes dull and gray, the teeth yellowed but that laugh endures, and we stay in love. I speak from experience.

Finding him a jacket he’d love “matters” to me, as he “matters” to me. Patiently the search continued.  Somehow I felt that once I found a jacket for Tom, one for me would naturally follow.   
Early on in the search, I discovered Scottevest, a travel wear company dedicated to quality and function, offering jackets with “zillions” of hidden pockets.  This concept appealed to both of us, especially during the times we have no alternative but to fly. 

With multiple pockets suited to technological gear, there are hidden plackets for headsets, chargers and devices. Very interesting!
Tom didn’t like the “look” of the available lightweight options for him, although I was drawn to The Molly in black. From time to time I’d send him information about the Standard Jacket to no response. 

Signing up at the Scottevest website to receive daily email on discounted items, last month he reluctantly agreed to the Windbreaker. I purchased a size large for him in olive along with a size small for me in blue.  With the then 20% off discount, these unisex 17 pocket jackets would serve us well most of the time, at only $60 each.  

Folding inside themselves for easy packing was an appealing feature that unfortunately requires an engineering degree. At this point we haven’t taken the time to figure this out.  Other fish to fry.  
Thus remained the task of finding a slightly heavier jacket for those cool days at sea and chilly mornings in Africa on safari.

As the search continued off and on, often days in between, an email popped into my inbox last week, offering a number of jackets at 40% off. (If interested in this sale click this link which was extended until midnight tonight but doesn’t allow for returns. BTW, we have nothing to do with the promotion or marketing of this company or their products).

And wouldn’t you know, The Molly and the Standard Jacket were both included in the sale. At last, Tom relented, finally realizing that the look may not be perfect, but the function of this 20 pocket jacket would serve him well in many ways. I ordered black for both of us in each of our chosen styles.  

Fearful they wouldn’t fit, resulting in having to resell them on eBay, I anxiously awaited their arrival.  Two days later, the package arrived.  Tom, exhausted from work and distracted, didn’t try his on until Friday night when I did the same. His recent weight loss made the size consideration tricky as this was a more fitted jacket than the Windbreaker that we had previously purchased.

Alas!  We were both thrilled with the perfect fit in each of our jackets and at last, Tom seemed content with this decision, partially due to price, partly due to practicality, partly due to the 20 pockets and perhaps, a tiny piece, to end my relentless search freeing me to attend to other tasks, only one month and six days from departure.

Logistics of the final days…

Our estate sale will occur from Thursday, October 25th through Sunday, October 28th. Our estate sale guy, Jim Anderson of Caring Estate Sales explained that we must be gone for those four days.  

He’ll start pricing items a week before the sale officially begins.  At that point, we must have all of our personal effects and items we want to keep, out of the cabinets, drawers, cabinets and off of the walls and a week later, out of the house.

In regard to most estate sales the homeowner is dead, obviously not around, pestering with comments such as, “Oh, that’s not enough money for that!”  We must be out of the house the entire four days of the sale.  

Dilemma #1:  Where will I go for those four days with no car (mine will have been sold)?  Tom will be at work during the hours of the sale.

When the sale is complete on Sunday, October 28th,  Tom has to go to work three more days, planning to be done by 9 am on Wednesday, the 31st where he’ll go to work only to receive his “retirement cake” a tradition at the railroad for all retirees.  (I guess he’ll eat gluten that day.  Oh, well. After 42 years he deserves to eat cake).  

End result, we need to stop using our house as we’ve known it around October 18th.  We’ll be able to use the built in appliances to cook and a few old pans, plates and flatware that we don’t plan to sell, tossing them when we’re done.  

Dilemma #2: Do we stay in the house (after I find somewhere to go for the four days) until the 31st when Tom’s work ends, at which point we sign the papers on the house and begin the drive in Tom’s car to Scottsdale? Do we live in the house after everything is gone, TVs, our two comfy chairs, sofas, bar stools at the huge island in the kitchen?  How will it feel to watch everything we’ve loved and enjoyed dwindle down to a bed in which we’ll fitfully sleep until we leave?

Our dear neighbor Jamie kindly suggested I hang out at her house for those four days. (Our three adult kids have cats to which I am allergic. I can’t spend more than an hour in their homes  plus I won’t have transportation). How will I feel watching the cars driving down our narrow road toward our home, later driving away with our belongings in their cars, trucks, and SUVs?  Yikes!

Yesterday morning, thinking aloud to one another, we considered the following realities:

  1. I won’t have transportation
  2. The four days of the estate sale, we’ll have to be out of the house by 7 am each morning, most difficult on the weekend when we are both here. What will we do all weekend from 7 am to 5 pm?
  3. How will we live in our house, stripped of all its accouterments, with only a bed for several days, no chair, no sofa, no table?
After multiple possible scenarios we narrowed it down to this:  We must entirely move out of the house beginning Wednesday, October 24th, coming back to inspect the status, make decisions on remaining items and collect our money.

The estate sale guy will remove all refuse, haul items to be donated to various organizations and our dear long term house cleaner, Teresa, will do the final cleaning.  We’ll pay fees for this additional support, but have determined it will be well worth the cost, reducing our stress at such a crucial time.

Sure, we could stay in a hotel for a week. Used to the reasonable cost of vacation rentals, I cringed at the price of a decent hotel, a car rental (or I’d be trapped in a hotel room for a week) and meals for a week at a total cost of around $1500, a cost for which I hadn’t budgeted.  

One of my closest friends has offered that we stay at her beautiful and spacious home, a mere 15 minutes away, an offer made with the utmost of sincerity.  Tom and I adore her and her two sons and have been to their home many times, as they have ours.  It will feel comfortable.  They eat the same healthful diet as we do.  I can prepare dinner for all of us each day.

Alone at her home during the days, I will work out when Tom returns when we go to see the house in the evenings during the sale. My laptop on hand, I’ll continue to write here, do additional research for our travels and fine tune our spreadsheets. It will be fine. Thank you, dear friend.

On Saturday afternoon the 27th, we’ll head out for the hour’s drive to Tom’s retirement party for his co-workers and family members, close to his work at a large hall. Youngest of 11 children, his family alone will account for over 100 guests. Add 42 years of co-worker/friends, we could be looking at 100’s. Oh.

Busy planning the food, the invitations, the cake and other necessities of party planning, need I say, life is busy. It’s no doubt, that we’ll need a multi-year vacation!

Laundry around the world…

Peculiarly, caring for our clothing is somewhat of a hobby of mine. Perhaps, I was a laundress in another lifetime (not to say there is such a thing as another lifetime). Perhaps, I slept in a laundry basket as a baby.

It began when I was quite young, this fascination with laundry.  The middle of three sisters, I was assigned the task of washing, folding and ironing the family’s wardrobe when I was 10 years old. I didn’t mind at all. 

In grade school I attended a “girls only” home economics class (remember that, babyboomers?) where I learned to iron a man’s 100% cotton long sleeved dress shirt from the inside out in two minutes flat.  Failure to do a perfect job resulted in a brisk slap on the hands with a wooden ruler. (Can you imagine what would happen to that teacher in this day and age?)

Over many months, my hands were red and bruised every Thursday after the class.  I didn’t cry or complain to my parents. Determined to get it right, I practiced at home, night after night with a clunky old Sunbeam iron and a wobbly ironing board, often leaving rusty iron stains on my father’s old white dress shirt.

In time, I became the best “ironer” in the class. By the end of the school year I was presented with a pink and white certificate. Not only were my shirts the most neatly ironed in class, but I was able to accomplish the feat in 90 seconds flat.  I’d make a good housewife someday. This was 1958.  

Over the years, my ironing skills honed as irons improved and I could iron a dress shirt in 60 seconds, still doing so today.  

Folding is also quite enjoyable.  I love laundry. Putting away?  Not so much.

In this old house, the laundry is located in our creepy, cobwebbed basement, a full flight of stairs and long walk away. I don’t mind. The exercise is good, up and down, six times a day, to accomplish a mere two loads of wash.

Six flights a day, on average, over the past 26 years and I’ve run up or down, 56,940 flights of stairs!  I’d probably weight 100 more pounds had our laundry room been on the main floor.  I like laundry.

Of course, as time marches on toward the beginning of our year’s long world travels, I can’t help but think about laundry. 

Here are my concerns while living in vacation homes:

  1. Will the washers and dryers work efficiently in each of our rental homes?
  2. Will there be a nearby laundromat in the event one or both doesn’t work or in the case of the Stone House in Cajarc, France with no washer or dryer in the house at all?
  3. Will I be able to remove wrinkles with our new dual voltage steam iron?  
After considerable research, I have discovered that most cruise ships, on which we’ll spend almost one third of our time during the first five months, have no self service laundry facilities. This was both surprising and disappointing to me, far beyond my personal pleasure in doing our laundry, for the following reasons:
  1. Sending out a single tee shirt to be laundered by the ship’s staff may cost upwards of $4! Can you imagine the cost of an entire load of laundry? Including the tips payable for the staff person returning the items to the cabin and two loads of laundry may cost $100!
  2. Irons are not allowed on cruise ships and are confiscated upon entry, an obvious safety hazard (I get this). Thus, one must “send out a dress, shirt or suit coat” to be ironed, costing more than $15 each.  Ouch!  Hopefully, we can depend on that steamer.
  3. Piling up dirty underwear, socks, tee shirts and daily wear to repack in one’s suitcase is rather unappealing. Some of our cruises two weeks or longer. How many pairs of dirty underpants will we accumulate between the two of us and how much space will they take in our otherwise stuffed bags?  No, we won’t turn our underpants inside out and wear them again the next day!  No, thank you!  Dirty socks?  Yuck!!!
My little brain went to work on these realities. As for the vacation homes, we’ll just have to wing it, unaware of what we are up against until we arrive.  If the facilities are not manageable, we’ll plan a weekly outing, doubled up with other activities when we’re already renting a car and make the trip to the local laundromat a fun experience,  playing cards or reading aloud while we wait.  

I’d more than be willing to go to the laundromat without Tom, laundress that I am, but Tom insists that he’ll join me. In certain areas one won’t be safe alone at the laundromat. Daily laundry as I have known, most likely will be a thing of the past. Also, I surrender the fact that I will not be ironing unless an iron is provided.  

As for the cruises, my fingers went flying across the keyboard searching for a solution. In reading reviews at varying cruise websites, I noticed a common comment: many cruises purposely don’t have bathroom sinks with a closing drain.  Here is our solution to washing our own underwear, tee shirts, and small items, purchased from Amazon.com:
Laundry Pack w/ Sink Stopper  Price  $16

Travelon Laundry Soap Sheets, 50-Count

Travelon Laundry Soap Sheets, 50-Count

by Travelon


List Price: $7.19
Price: $4.42 ($0.28 / oz) & eligible for FREE Super Saver Shipping on orders over $25. Details
You Save: $2.77 (39%)

I purchased four of the above laundry packets which fit into the palm of my hand weighing only a few ounces.  These will provide us with 200 sinks-full of wash.  With the above clothes line that suctions inside the shower walls plus soap for my delicate items, we’ll save $100’s while cruising, leaving instead with a small load to deal with at our next vacation home.

Traveling the world for several years with no home, no place to return to repack, restock and replenish, all of these items will save us money, frustration and most of all, precious time doing that which we love, for me; a lot of love and laughter, a touch of adventure, and a little bit of laundry; for Tom, a lot of love and laughter, a touch of adventure and a smile while watching me do laundry. Ah, life is good.

We’ll have bug bites, we’ll be hot and sweaty, the bed will be lumpy, our feet will be tired, we’ll leave a shoe behind, a flight will be cancelled and a vacation home won’t be as described online.  But, in any case, our clothes will be clean.

Letting go, not so simple…

Here are our two comfy chairs and fluffy blankets. I had the lamp on the table made for Tom for Christmas in 2007 along with three bowls and another lamp from downed trees in our yard. A storm the prior August felled 20 trees in our yard. Everything you see in this picture will be sold at our upcoming estate sale October 25-28th.

In January, when our plans to travel the world were mulling around our heads, we gradually began the process of rummaging through every cupboard, drawer, and closet, contemplating mementos worthy of saving, that which to toss, ultimately what to sell.

Practically speaking, it was a necessary process.  Emotionally, it was filled with laughter recalling the stories attached to the photos, the trinkets, the handmade crafts from our children when young and now from our grandchildren.  

With tear filled eyes we have accepted the price we must pay to let go of one dream in order to build another, saying goodbye, first to those we love, second, to the peninsula home and all that it has contained, that which we have treasured and enjoyed. 

How do we say goodbye to these two comfy chairs, our fluffy blankets neatly folded during each day to be tossed onto our laps each night, winter and summer, when the air conditioning, the bowl of ice cream and sheer exhaustion rendered us chilled and sleepy?  

The conversations we shared in these chairs, the giggles we couldn’t control while sitting here either together or while watching the grandchildren play with the big tote of toys we continued to fill over the years with newly found treasures.  

Yes, we are grateful as we venture out into this unknown new territory of our lives, away from the familiar, the predictable, the routine that we have never found to be mundane or, to be boring. 

We loved the routine; Tom, rushing out the door to chase the pesky geese off of the lawn in summer or blowing the copious amounts of snow blocking the narrow road here on the peninsula in the winter, often too high for him to accomplish requiring that we call the guy with the bobcat.

Whether marching up and down the stairs to the basement each day in a futile effort to finally finish the laundry or enthusiastically preparing our lofty health-promoting nightly dinners, the routine, two years after my retirement was still comforting and peaceful. So simple.

And neverm and I mean never, did he walk in the door after a long day’s work, did I not greet him at the door with a kiss so heartfelt and yet, so routine that moments later, we’d often kiss hello again, uncertain if we’d already kissed. This simple routine will be changed when seldom leaving each other’s side, beginning six weeks from today.

Whether it was the dinner parties for friends laden with adventurous dishes and printed menus, the ambitious meals for the family working around special diets and food allergies, the ear splitting noise of the kids playing rambunctiously amid our patient observation, we loved it all.

And now, six weeks to go.  We’ll walk out the door for the last time.  We’ll have already kissed all of them all goodbye with tear filled eyes, holding back the sobs with the hope of appearing strong.  The house will be empty, the belongings sold and taken away, the bed, staying until the last night of anticipated fitful sleep.  

It will be Halloween that day.  Tom’s SUV will be loaded up with the orange luggage. For the first time in our adult lives, we won’t anxiously wait by the door to hand out a special treat to the well-dressed young visitors.  

Saying goodbye.  Not so simple.