In anticipation of goodbye…

Tom and I have four adult children between us; his son is 37 and his daughter turns 42 tomorrow (Happy birthday, darling!).  I have two sons, one turning 43 today (Happy Birthday, honey!) and the eldest 45, living in Henderson, Nevada for the past 25 years. We will surely miss them.

Three of our four kids live here in Minnesota and between them, we have been gifted with six grandchildren, the eldest and the youngest sharing the same birthdays on September 21st, ages ranging from three to twelve.  We will surely miss them.

With their significant others, we’ll be leaving behind here in Minnesota 12 immediate family members as we venture out into the world for the next 5-10 years, moving from country to country, for as little as one month to as long as five. 
Tom has lived in Minnesota all of his life, leaving behind his family of four generations totaling well over 100 unique individuals.  Inviting his family for dinner is comparable to planning a major event!  We will surely miss them.

Living in Minnesota for the past 42 years and coming from a small family, I also leave behind my younger sister, a TV producer in Los Angeles, an older sister living in Boulder City, Nevada, two nieces and their families and a dear cousin from Boston along with her two adult daughters. We will surely miss them.

And the friends that visit more frequently now than ever with offers of help, some confused by our decision to leave, others to travel along with us in spirit, following our every destination.  Some promise to visit us along the way.  We will surely miss them.

And the neighbors… so close for the often daily interactions, the lazy walks in the neighborhood, the hilarious happy hours, the happy hour boat rides, the outdoor parties on the lawn, the helping one another when snowed in during the long winters, the playful little dogs, (many now passed on) and the recent loss of one we loved so much, as written in my post of June 1.  

As they plan a neighborhood party for us for October 13th we are reminded of the 26 years together and how hard it will be to drive away 18 days later on Halloween.  We will surely miss them, too.
No, its not all joyful anticipation of one long “vacation,” kicking back, relaxing in a hammock overlooking the sea or trekking through the plains in search of the “Big 5” while on safari in Africa.  

Its “life” with noisy disorganized airports, congestion at the buffet line on the cruises, lost luggage, bug bites, uncomfortable lumpy mattresses, bad Internet connections, no TV, no food processor, customs curious as to why we have so many bottles of vitamins, no air conditioning, bad weather with no escape to a basement, stomach distress, a burned out hair dryer, running out of contact lens solution and on and on. 

Why?  Why put ourselves through this?  Why not settle down into a “senior living” condo in a warm, humid-less climate, coming back to Minnesota twice a year to visit those we love, freely traveling by car to visit the others?  Why?

As we said before, because we can, because we want to. Because, we both feel we have one last hurrah deep within us.  Did we hunger for this adventure all of our lives? No. I’ve always dreamed of going to Africa, but the world? Not so much. As written in our prior posts, we only gave birth to this idea early in 2012.  

The timing is right. The downturn in the economy has affected the availability and phenomenal pricing of the homes we’ll be renting around the world; Tom’s pension after 42 years; the timing of the sale and ultimate unloading of our house (a painful loss); our improved health due to our diet change a year ago. The stars were aligned. 

As we travel from location to location, ensuring that Skype will work, we’ll make the online call, see their smiling faces, hear their sweet voices, jittery from afar. We’ll revel in the connection, grateful for technology all the while talking, laughing and sharing, no doubt with tears in our eyes. Yes, we will surely miss them.

Why blog?…Why not blog?…

While at a party last weekend, a guest asked me, after hearing that I’m writing a blog, “What could you possibly write about before leaving to travel the world?”  
In the beginning, I was concerned I would run out of ideas, writing every other day. So far, so good. Readership is in the 1000’s, growing rapidly, much to my surprise from all over the world.

As time marched on, it became therapeutic, as in writing a journal. In the near future, it would serve as a means of updating family and friends as we saunter from place to place about the world, living “life” as Tom says, not vacationing. (Vacations are for leaving one’s home to enjoy visiting other surroundings, relieve stress, experience new cultures and adventures to ultimately return home to “the real world”).

We won’t have a “home”.  That explains the therapeutic element. Having no home is an emotional adjustment, is not for everyone and was inconceivable to us only a few years ago. Of course, in no way do I mean to imply it is comparable to being “homeless,” a sorrowful fate for many without the love, support and emotional freedom to escape poverty.   

In our case, choosing to be without a home defies all traditional convention and social mores. Many are shocked by our willingness to do this, some amused and others annoyed, saying, “They won’t last.”  Maybe we won’t.  If we don’t, we will write about it here, baring our souls for those interested.

In the next few months, with the help of a highly professional web/blog designer we will enhance this blog.  We’ll be creating links for money saving travel information, insurance needs, prescription drug savings tips, travel concerns, travel products we’re using, foods we’re experiencing around the world that fit into our low carb, wheat, starch, grain and sugar free lifestyle, restaurant observations, vacation homes we love, cruise commentaries, airline experiences and more. 

Most of all, we will share the photos and stories of the nature we are blessed to behold and the people we are fortunate to meet. Hopefully, we’ll both become better photographers.  Currently, we are researching lightweight, easy to use, digital Bluetooth enabled cameras with a few new prospects being released soon.  (We’ll keep you updated).

To offset some of the cost of the professional blog designer, we will be incorporating some relevant advertising, as you will currently find on most web sites and blogs. 

A few days ago, I ordered business cards with our email and blog addresses, after both of us tired of writing on little pieces of paper (especially with my horrific illegible handwriting).  When they arrive, I’ll take a photo and post it here. More to pack!

You may email us at any time, if you prefer not to post online comments. Always feel free to make suggestions to us, as many have thus far in “comments” and in private email, all of which we appreciate and take to heart.  Research is one thing, experience is another.  We more than welcome your experience. And please, take advantage of our hundreds of hours of research, if you are looking for a bargain or a shortcut.

BTW, if you want to read my story on the blog of Jonathan Bailor, The Smarter Science of Slim, please click here.  My story is the second story down, moving from the first spot over the past week.  Thanks to all of our readers and, to Jonathan’s readers who have come over here to read our blog.  

Off to the health club now for my 10 minute killer cardio workout, after an hour long walk with my neighbor earlier this morning. Then off to the grocery store to stock up for the long weekend.  

Friends are coming for Eggs Benedict brunch on Sunday when I’ll be using that cute little 1950’s double boiler as seen in the photo in the last post, maybe for the last time. (The recipe is also posted there).

Bye, double boiler. Hello, world.  

Memories, light the corners of my mind…

At times we find ourselves listening attentively to an animated senior citizen, hanging onto their every word, of a bygone era filled with breathtaking stories far removed from our own reality.  

Many of us envision a blissful time when we will be that senior, finally at peace with our own mortality, sharing such stories with a younger generation, hoping that they will glean a delectable morsel of the wisdom that ultimately will carry them through life. 

Often, we hear the same stories over and over, to the point that we remember them better than they, finding ourselves filling in the blanks to kindly and lovingly help them along.  Many of the stories go back 50, perhaps 60 or 70 years ago.
Somewhere along the way, time seemingly stood still while no new stories were gathered, to be embellished or to be shared with the wide-eyed young recipients.  In time, to the older crowd, the retold stories are gently perceived as snooze-worthy, tolerated and bemused.  With love, we smile, we laugh, we ask questions we’ve asked many times before, and, we act surprised.
It’s charming. It’s precious. But deep inside that angelic soul, a story is told of a life that was once lived a long time ago. 

Is that our fate?  As we enter the last third of our lives, can we choose to begin again, a new phase, a new chapter, filled with awe and wonder while living in the moment building stories we can share tomorrow, in a week, a month or a year? Can we overlap our stories as we live them to the fullest, events big or small, trivial or profound?  Yes, we can.

Today, we can see a white squirrel run through the trees in our yard, snap a photo to share it tomorrow with an inattentive five year old, and suddenly their eyes look upward in hopes of seeing the flash of white leaping from tree to tree. This becomes a story, relevant, today.

A few days later, we’re playing cards with the neighbors laughing so hard we throw back our head and our glasses fly into the air, landing in the fruit bowl on the table and then, we laugh some more.  This is a story.  We laugh again when telling it, hoping they will laugh along with us.  And they do.

Life is big and small, adventurous and dull, quiet and lively.  Stories of today and tomorrow, interspersed with those of long along, may help us find our way to a fuller life that only ends, when it ends.

Four friend day…

Saying goodbye to family will be tearful.  We will hug.  We will kiss.  Sobs will catch in our throats.  No doubt. We will see one another, each week on Skype, communicate through email and see their faces in photos on Facebook.  They will be “with us” in our hearts and minds each day, counting down the days until they come to visit us from afar.  This we know for sure.

Saying goodbye to friends will be different. We all dream that once a friend, a friend forever.  Not the case.  It’s no one’s fault.  It’s nature which intended us to gather around our core family for love, support and companionship. 

In the wild, animals form a family group welcoming “outsiders” of their species. In humans, we welcome “outsiders” on our own terms:  knock before you enter, respects their family times, don’t call during dinner, don’t expect to be together on holidays.  In essence, make an appointment to see one another.  That’s a learned behavior in our human society, not a part of our nature.

Thus, as we prepare to go away, we do so with this certainty:  we will see our family again, we may not see our friends. It’s a reality.  It still hurts.

Yesterday, in one single day, a dear friend Chere, an amazing friend, came for a low-carb, gluten- -free breakfast. With many common interests and years as friends, we simply couldn’t get enough of one another; sharing, smiling and laughing.  

When she was leaving, I hesitated, “Will I see you before we go,” I asked.  

She squeezed my hand while we hugged, “Of course.  I’ll be back several times before you go.”  I wanted to believe this.  I wasn’t sure.

Second friend of the day, our delightful next door neighbor Nelleke, from whom we’ll be renting her home in Majorca, Spain next May. Most days, she and I walk the neighborhood with her little white Westie, Max, chatting on endlessly about our dreams, our hopes and our disappointments. She’s a strong and sturdy senior, a fitness aficionado, like me and young for her age.  She’s leaving today for a week to visit family.  I will now know what it is like without her. 

Later in the day, the third friend of the day, our precious neighbor Sue, showed up at our door for happy hour, staying until 9:00 pm, when we walked her home, bellies full, still giggling over our enjoyable evening together, the three of us.  She lost her beloved husband and our friend Chip, whom I wrote about here on June 1, 2012. I was given the honor of speaking about him at his memorial service only a month ago.  We miss him.  We will miss her.

As we walked Sue home at a little after 9:00 pm, reveling in the starry night sky, so bright away from the city lights, we ran into our friend Jamie, another amazing neighbor and friend, stopping to chat.  Only days ago, she discovered that her little dog Bella, has cancer.  I was reminded of losing our Willie such a short time ago and can only hope that little Bella experiences a better outcome. I will miss Jamie and her family.

More friends will come to visit, to say goodbye before we go.  Each time I will wonder, will we see them again, before we go, 74 days from today?  Will they email?  Will they stay in touch? Will they read this blog from time to time for an update on where we are, perhaps considering a visit?  

Friends have  moved away and we have stayed in touch.  My friend Carol, a friend for 27 years, an airline pilot, moved away over 25 years ago. We text, we email, we visit one another, we talk on the phone never losing touch.  

There are more all over the country that don’t let it slip away, that are still “part of the pack” kind of friends.  Then there are the friends with whom we talked with almost every day, that left, never to return, never to talk, never to write.  Suddenly, they appear on Facebook.  We smile.  We are happy to “see” them again, not angry we lost touch.  In most cases, we both failed to stay in touch.

It’s all a part of this life we live.  We love, we lose.  We lose, we rediscover. Whichever way it goes, we accept it, still loving them, still holding on to the memories. This, dear friends, we know for sure.

Life is never risk free..

What were our motives for starting a blog about “leaving” seven months before we are actually “leaving?”  In my mind the intent has been simple, document the process as a means of lessening the emotional blow.

Almost to the day, a year prior to starting this blog, I wrote my first blog, an accounting of the last days of the life of our precious little dog, WorldWideWillie, written from his perspective, followed by me, after he passed. 

Much to my surprise, we had over 500 followers with no marketing, no advertising, no promotion, other than by my own comment to a few friends and a few references in own poorly maintained meager Facebook account.  

Somehow, people were reading it across the seas.  Perhaps, key words. Perhaps, one person in the US, sent the link across the world to a grieving relative having recently lost their own beloved pet.

What did this accomplish for us?  Lots of tears each day as I read aloud to Tom, “what Willie wrote” as he sat at our side, nose touching my leg, tilting his little head each time he heard familiar words of which he knew so many.  

But, most of all, it was a vital part of the healing process. I love dogs. I love dogs too much, too deep, the same as with people. In time, through the words, the healing entered our hearts as we began to talk about him without crying (still do sometimes). And, I stopped counting on my fingers how many days, weeks and months had passed since he left us.

And now, this time, this blog, 1000’s, not 100’s of readers, all over the world are sharing this experience with us.  Thank you, readers.  Thank you so much for coming on this journey with us, even now at this early date, three months away.  

Most of you silently observe, some with disdain, some vicariously, some with curiosity and some, like me when reading other’s blogs, hoping to glean a tiny morsel that will somehow change our lives.

This is not just a blog about two crazy retirees traveling the world for what may prove to be many years. It is also about leaving everyone we love, everything we have loved, the familiarity of a comfortable life and all of our worldly possessions, not contained in four over-stuffed suitcases and two carry on bags.   

Writing this blog has the same powerful healing effect that we encountered when writing about Willie.  Plus, it serves as a powerful reminder of that which we have learned along the way, to reference the multitude of tasks to do now and into the future.

We “heard” through the grapevine that some people think we have no idea of what we are doing and that “we are in for some big surprises.”  Yes, we surely are!

Did the senior know what he was doing when he jumped out of an airplane for the first time on his 90th birthday? No. He took the risk for the adventure.

After 100’s of hours of research we both feel we know the risks: death due to injury; crime or illness; illness or injury requiring an expensive (although insured) trip back to US; being a victim of a crime; theft of our belongings (which will also be insured); theft of our deposit or the property not being as expected or represented; unable to obtain a visa or gain entrance into a country; being stuck in airport or on the tarmac for days; cancellation of a cruise at the last minute due to maintenance issues of bomb threat; a cruise ship tipping over; false imprisonment (we won’t knowingly commit a crime!) and more.

What if a warthog cuts us with his sharp tusks?  Or we step on a snake resulting in a life threatening bite? Or a creepy worm makes its way into the bottom of our foot to travel to our brain? Yuck!

When we read the newspaper or watch the news each day, all of these risks occur throughout the world and also, here in the US.  Seniors fall down a flight of stairs in their own homes, resulting in horrible injury or death. Food poisoning occurs in our local restaurants.  Pins are found in a sandwich on a domestic flight. Citizens are shot and killed in their own homes, as an unintended victim of violence.

Good grief!  We could spend our lives immobilized by fears, a slave to our own environment.  Or, we can venture out performing everyday tasks, enjoying our families, our friends, Mother Nature, our work and our hobbies, all of which are laden with a certain degree of risk.

Life is not without risk.  Do we “prepare for the worst and expect the best?”  

No. We choose to be as educated as we possibly can about the risks, proceed with caution along the way, avoid risk and pray for a little good luck.  And, as life has its ups and downs along the way, as it surely will, we will holster our usual optimism hopefully discovering a logical solution together.

We’ve never done this before. This is not the same as traveling for a month or two, returning “home” to repack, paying the bills, reading the mail and visiting with our family and friends.  There will be no “home” to return to.

The message is clear in the old adage, “home is where the heart is”. This will become our motto. After all, we are taking our “home” with us not only in our hearts and minds, but also in each other.

Bite sized pieces….

My feet hitting the floor at 5:40 am, a surge of energy running through me, I rushed around the house performing the morning’s usual tasks.  

The bath water ran while I turned on the teapot, emptied the dishwasher, threw the sheets in the wash, folded a load of laundry, checked my email and looked in refrigerator contemplating tonight’s dinner.  

The tub was full. Time to get ready for the day. Having worked for 45 years, I can put myself together in 20 minutes, providing I don’t get distracted stopping to watch the news story of the day on the TV in our room.
By the time I got the sheets into the dryer for the 70 minute cycle, I found myself walking in circles around the house, my eyes scanning the cupboards, the drawers, the closets, filled with the “things” of our lives, yet to be tackled.  I felt my heart race; a little bit of fear, a little bit of angst, a tinge of sorrow. 

Letting go? Letting go. Day by day. “Bite sized pieces” keeps running through my mind, the words I used daily to remind my precious sister Julie to hang on as she went through lengthy and agonizing breast cancer treatment about 4 years ago. She survived, thank God, with  a level of grace that I so admired and with a hope for the future, that has proven to serve her well.
Of course, there is no comparison with these life events, but the simplicity of thinking in terms of “bite sized pieces” has a magical way of putting our apprehension and fear in perspective, allowing us each day to bite off a little piece of the challenge while continuing to deal with it, day after day. 

I keep reminding myself of the upcoming sense of freedom and adventure facing us.  But now, with 3 months and 23 days to go, the reality of the looming tasks, many of which are too soon to complete now, I could easily  throw myself into a tailspin.  
Taking a deep breath, I don’t choose the tailspin, thinking, “What can I bite off today to lighten the load?”

We have found as we age, our ability to handle challenges changes. Somewhere along the way, both Tom and I have accepted that emotional upheaval is pointless, “drama” is used to elicit a response from others, stress is damaging to one’s health, and loud vocalization (yelling) to those you love (or not) doesn’t solve problems but creates them. Again, simple, again magical with the ultimate goal of contentment, entirely attainable, not at all elusive.

At 8:30 am, I packed up our six year old grandson Vincent, driving him to Gale Woods Farm for his second of five days in “farm camp” a short jaunt from our home. Three hours later, having completed multiple errands, I returned home, feeling a sense of accomplishment for having taken several “bite sized pieces” out of the daunting tasks that are looming. Walking into the familiar smells in our home; remnants of last night’s dinner along with the orange organic cleaner I used this morning to clean the kitchen, a wave of accomplishment washed over me.In only a few short months this life as we’ve known it, will be over with a new life to begin its place. We’ll continue to take “bite sized pieces” with contentment, joy and wonder as our ultimate goal.

Looking around the house at the cupboards, the drawers, the closets and the “things” I knew it will all get done and, it will all be OK.

Memories, old and new yet to come…

The 4th is over. The house is cleaned of the chocolate flag cake little hand prints and the freshly cut grass covered little feet.  The dog nose prints on the glass are gone, the kitchen cleaned from my “bull in a China Shop” food preparation, food flying everywhere.  

The leftovers are almost gone with only one more night of tender barbecue ribs, almond flour fried chicken and crunchy broccoli salad.  There’s one more piece of the gluten free cake for Tom to enjoy tonight after a 12-hour day of hard work in the heat. I look forward to placing it dead center on a his favorite white plate and handing it to him while he cools off in his comfy chair, TV in the background, Ancestry.com loaded up on his laptop, ready to go.

Tom doesn’t like for me to “wait” on him. He never asks me to get him anything. For me, it has become less of a gender role, but more of a being a caring and responsible partner in life, holding up my end of the deal. Retiring almost two years ago after 45 years of work I find my new “job” of homemaker, cook, blogger and travel planner rather rewarding.    

I do laundry every day, washed, folded and ironed if needed.  Each night, Tom took out his clothes for the next day’s work invariably choosing the same already washed and dried shirt among a dozen others, one that he wore the prior day.  

I asked him last night if his co-workers noticed that he rotated only two shirts. He laughed, saying, “Guys don’t notice other guy’s clothes unless they are particularly unusual or fodder for endless jokes.”  His two shirts are relatively boring.  He’s not.

This morning as I padded around the kitchen, almost running in circles, I anticipated my big activity for the day; lunch with my old friend, Lynda of 36 years at Maynards in Excelsior situated on Lake Minnetonka, where she and I hung out in the 70’s (when it was known as T. Butcherblocks). We’d skillfully maneuver our big boats up to the dock, tied them up, and proceeded to order copious amounts of sweet drinks with umbrellas, later dancing into the night in the upstairs bar, chasing boys. 

Both boat owners, we were proud to be women who could manage our meticulously cleaned and maintained 25+ foot cabin cruisers into a tight slip in “the front” of the dock, later heading home to our growing kids, our hard earned homes, our booming business and the responsibilities of the day. It was fun. We were young.

As we meet today to discuss our lives, she with her second husband, me with my third, we’ll surely chuckle over the changes in our lives; our grown kids, our grand kids, she and her husband Jim, living part time in China with two homes in California and now a home on Lake Minnetonka and, us on our path of seeing the world. We’re both digging into our “bucket lists.”

We both still work out almost every day, as we did then, enjoy healthy food, take care of ourselves and grumble over the ravages of time that inevitably heads our way.  We accept that reality of aging as gracefully as we can. We both still relish a “cute” outfit and a brag-worthy bargain on a sexy pair of high heeled shoes, comfort being more of a prerequisite than it was in the past. 

Life has never been easy for either of us, as for most. We worked hard for what we wanted and fumbled along the way. We experienced sorrow, health issues, disappointments and failures. We survived. We still know the words to Gloria Gaynor’s, I Will Survive, popular in our “day.”

It will be a lovely lunch, seeing an old friend, sharing our lives, ordering the delicious Seared Ahi Tuna Salad that I always order at Maynards, reminiscing about the past, anticipating the future that we both share in common in so many ways.

Later, when I return home, I’ll squeeze into a bathing suit spending a little time getting my usual hour’s worth of Vitamin D, finish a load of wash and anxiously await Tom’s return home.   I’ll pour him a cold glass of sugar free iced tea and set out the white plate for him to enjoy the last piece of the gluten free chocolate flag cake. 

I’ll ask him no less than three times if he’s ready for his cake and smile when he finally says “yes”, springing from my comfy chair to get it for him.  

He never asks for me to get something for him, which occasionally makes “waiting” on him, all the more meaningful.

Hot today!… Happy 4th!…

Here it is, our last 4th of July in Minnesota, except for perhaps a time in the future, when we’ll return to visit family and friends.  It’s a mixed bag of emotions.  

Tom set out the 200 plus flags along both sides of the peninsula on Sunday as we’ve done for over the last two decades, boaters driving by waving at us for our festive display.  Fortunately, there were no storms, these past three days that may have blown them away.

Overlooking our yard on the smaller side of Lake Minnewashta.

Yes, it hurts to leave all of this behind. It’s sad to leave our three adult children, their significant others and six grandchildren who live nearby.  We’ll miss them and we’ll miss all of our relatives, neighbors, friends and co-workers we’ve come to love after all these years.  We’ll no longer be Minnesotans.

My favorite spot where we lounge in “comfy” outdoor chairs
With our new upcoming residency in Nevada, where eldest son/stepson, Richard lives in Henderson with our funny grand dog, Monty; my eldest sister living in Boulder City (25 minute drive); and dear old friends also in Henderson, we won’t be lost making Nevada our new address. 

Nevada offers many retiree benefits of which we’ll partake. Change is not easy, especially as one ages. We worry about finances, health, available services and basic creature comforts. We long for a certain sense of familiarity to bring us comfort and peace.
Overlooking our peninsula yard and dock on the bigger side of the lake.

In a short time, we’ll take a risk with our health, exposed to disease in strange lands. Although we’ve carefully planned, some of our funds may be at risk at times, less services (dentist, doctor, vision care) will be available to us and we will forfeit the familiarity that brings us comfort and peace.

According to the app on my phone: Retirement Countdown Free, we leave Minnesota in 3 months, 29 days.

Photo of Retirement Countdown Free app on my smart phone

For today, we’re heading outside to enjoy the sunshine, the heat, the flags, the festivities, the great meal we’ve prepared, and the people we love. Have a happy day!

Not roughing it…

We aren’t backpackers. We aren’t hikers, mountain climbers, white water rafters or campers. Maybe, just maybe, we’re zipliners. We like air conditioning, iced tea with lots of ice, salad with dinner, fluffy bath towels and 600 count Egyptian cotton sheets. 

Oddly enough, we don’t care for sightseeing.  We force ourselves to go to the Minnesota State Fair, every three or four years, rarely trying any of the overpriced, unhealthy “things on a stick.”  

We seldom go to the movies, instead preferring to watch it later “On Demand” in our own time, sitting in our comfy chairs while enjoying a low carb, gluten free homemade dessert.

But, we do like the laughter of our grandchildren running wildly through our house, the smell of my mother’s recipe for pot roast slowly baking in the oven on a cold day, sitting at the end of the dock watching the bottom feeder fish jump into the air on a warm summer night before the mosquitoes start biting.

We love entertaining family or friends for brunch or for dinner, serving foods we know they’ll like, befitting their “diet of the week” or special dietary needs. We love the ease we feel whether preparing an awe inspiring gourmet meal or simply burgers on the grill.

We love the well-fed and appreciative smiles on our guests faces as they finally go their way, giddy from the copious glasses of good wine, good food and the constant laughter.

We love nature; the cardinal alighting on a branch, the white albino squirrel leaping from tree to tree, a miniature red cedar sapling growing in the stone patio or the spunky yellow day lilies that bloom every year with so little care.

We love the fluffy white pillows created from the falling of fresh snow when we know we can stay inside, feeling that special sense of comfort that we Minnesotans somehow find so familiar and peaceful.

Will we see the Sistene Chapel?  (Last week, a young pop star on David Letterman’s show referred to it as the “Sixteenth Chapel! Hahaha!).

Maybe we will, depending on the crowds, our mood, the weather, the convenience. But, we’ll walk with the locals and their chickens along the road in Tuscany to the outdoor market each day to buy fresh brown eggs and freshly picked brightly colored pesticide free produce. 

No, we’re not backpackers or sightseeing fanatics. We’ll be two 60 something retired people living an ordinary life, that are easily entertained by simple pleasures, many of which will change, many of which won’t be available and many of which will be new or different.

As long as we can breathe the fresh air, be a part of Mother Nature’s bounty, mingle with the people and their way of life, have a comfortable place to sleep and a couple of comfy chairs or sofa, we’ll only enhance the joy we’ll have carried along with us, not in our overloaded suitcases but, in our hearts.

We lost a friend…

Sue, Pippy & Chip

Writing and dreaming of our upcoming world wide travels seems trivial and self serving at the moment.  Today is a day to write about our friend Chip who embarked on his own journey last night at 8:45 PM.

With his devoted wife Sue at his side day after day, he struggled to maintain a grasp on this precious life he so treasured, one filled with love, family, friends, creative endeavors and a purposeful lifelong career as an orthopedic surgeon. We surely will miss him.  

Rather than turn this tribute into a mournful array of the overused words, we often hear at the passing of a special person, it feels right to tell the story of the life altering influence this man and his lovely wife have had in our lives for the past 26 years.  

They happened to be neighbors, four doors away, on the peninsula.  Yes, I will admit that we became friends due to the close proximity. But, we stayed friends due to the love, the laughter, the lively banter, the shared view of the world, the common sorrows we freely discussed, the fine glass of red wine and the plate of enticing foods, lovingly prepared with each other in mind. Oh, yes, we surely will miss him.

Chip loved people.  Chip loved dogs.  Many years ago, we had the privilege of sharing our lives with a quirky little Australian Terrier, Bart, who lived a short five years of life, run over my our mailman in front of our home.  

During those five happy years, Chip & Sue shared their home with their adorable Australian Shepherd, Pippy.  Bart and Pippy were best friends, as if they knew were both Australian, occasionally hanging out with their friend Peabody, a delightful dog of uncertain descent who lived further down the road. 

Living on a private road with little regard for any leash laws, the three of them roamed freely on the point frequently stopping by neighbor’s homes for a treat which invariable resulting in many chuckles.  They were cartoon characters. 

At times, we walked into Chip and Sue’s home to find our Bart sleeping on their sofa cuddled up next to Pippy. When Bart died in 1996, Chip cried with us, reminiscing with tear filled eyes, and again many times over the years.  

We’d visit the spot in our yard where we lay him to rest, telling funny stories: One warm summer day, when independent Bart was but a year old, we saw a canoe pass by as we lounged in our lawn chairs near the water, on a perfect sunny day.

We didn’t recognize the people in the canoe but, we realized that the dog inside the canoe standing on his hind legs looking over the edge at us was our Bart!  It was if he was saying, “Hey, Mom & Dad, look at me!” He was in a canoe with Sherry, Chip and Sue’s adult daughter, whom we barely knew at the time.  We howled then and many more times over the years.

Chip, a talented sculptor, created one of his first projects of a man sitting with two dogs at his side, Bart and Pippy.  And then, we cried some more.  Yes, we surely will miss him.  

When Pippy’s life was to end, Tom drove Pippy and Chip to the vet while Tom took Pippy inside for his final journey.  Chip stayed outside.  It was too painful to let go.  We all cried some more.

And there was the laughter and the happy hour boat rides with the bouncing appetizers and cocktails, the fun dinner parties back and forth, summer after summer, year after year. Then there were the birthdays that Tom, Chip and Doug (the neighbor and friend in between our houses), all shared on December 23 that we often spent together.  

Sue and I often struggled to decide on what special event to plan for the birthdays, so painfully close to an already packed Christmas season.  One year, I made a cake with one half chocolate, one half white, decorated with each of their names and own decor on their own side.  We laughed, had more cocktails and ate cake.

Chip and Sue were the epitome of a happily retired couple.  In later years, living half the year in Florida and the other half here at the point we stayed in touch counting the days until they returned in late spring to a fun filled summer on the peninsula.

Several years ago, Tom and I came to realize that we wanted to be just like them when we retire, our role models; in love, doing that which we love to do and most of all, spending valuable time together.  Their relationship represented a life of retirement that we all aspire to; having traveled, spending time together and with those they loved and, never failing to admire and respect one another.

Grief, an unwelcome visitor, appears at our door. We let it in, knowing that it brings not only sorrow and sadness, but a wealth of happy memories to soften the blow and to see us through to the other side, which ultimately is gratitude.

Gratitude, for feeling so deeply for him. Gratitude, for the experience of knowing him.  Gratitude for the lessons we’ve learned from him.  Gratitude, for the example he set, the love he freely gave and the legacy he leaves behind.  Yes, we will surely miss him. 

Goodbye, dear Chip. Whenever we go, however long we are gone, you will be in our hearts.