Well, it's my half birthday today: 60½. Last year at this time I was hoping we would start real plans in the next year for retiring to Eureka, also wondering why Steve's bronchitis wouldn't clear up. He seemed to get a cold or flu during the holidays every year, so part of it I chalked up to psychosomatic sources. In a little over a month, however, we would find out his true diagnosis.
I went down and talked with my new tax guy today. He seems really nice, so I'll have to be super organized for him. Just skimming over last year's return and discussing this year's happenings, he was fairly certain that there would be no tax owing.
The Morgan-Stanley Guy sent an e-mail yesterday saying the transfer of the IRA into my name is complete, and the account has been fully funded as of today. I also got a call from my attorney on Monday, saying the probate petition had been approved; neither of us has to appear in court, and the new deed will be registered with the county in about six to eight weeks.
On the personal front, I have to get the car's 60,000 maintenance done, as well as sign up for Covered California: No matter where I turn, monotonous obligation demands attention and payment. It's difficult, if not impossible, to try and focus on generating some spiritual cohesion and healing in this maelstrom of money and materialism.
So I'm planning a trip. I'm going to take a month and visit all those friends and relatives around the country whom I keep saying I am going to visit: Florida, New York, Wisconsin and Seattle. I'm also going to take the last two legs of the journey (Wisconsin to Seattle and Seattle to home) on Amtrak. I have always wanted to take those two journeys from beginning to end.
I'm reserving a roomette, so I will have my own window and a comfy wide chair in which to lounge. It also comes with perks like a first-class-only club car with WiFi, all meals included, and of course the sleeping car porter at one's beck and call. The additional cost is much less than one would pay for food and accommodations in a hotel.
So this means lining up someone to come in and check on the cats. And renewing my passport, since my leg to visit Rick and Candy will land me in Montreal. I'll have to let my clients know that nothing is going to get done during that period. I'll take my laptop, but it's for viewing DVDs, writing, playing computer games and linking up one or two times to do practical things like check e-mails and pay bills.
I am so looking forward to visiting all these folks. And I'm starting to look at extravagances like this as practical, since I don't think I'll have the opportunity to do something like this for a while. You might call it the beginnings of my bucket list.
Steve never had a bucket list, but I kind of forced one on him: Taking a trip to London and Paris, adopting Eureka as a home away from home (even if we didn't reach retirement there). And I'm sure there were dozens of other things that he never would have done if I wasn't there as an instigator. But you'd have to ask him, and he's unavailable.
That's probably the saddest part of someone dying: you can't communicate with them anymore. If you have questions, they will forever go unanswered. Past topics will never be expanded upon, and you have to guess at what might have been their opinions. They weren't simply someone you loved dearly and shared comfort with, they were a vital information source woven into the very fabric of your life, and now that corridor is silent.
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