Quite a Week

It seems hard to believe that it was only a week ago that I arrived in Winona, hobbled into Amanda's apartment with cat carrier and collapsed from a four-day cross-country drive. The week that followed was somewhat disjointed, since it was a combination of recuperation and orientation to the layout of Winona. It's a small town, so once I got the major arteries (read highways) and the cross-town streets down in my head, I was able to find pretty much what I needed.

One of those things was a charger for my iPhone, which I scored at Radio Shack. I had wanted to get it from the local computer store, but they were moving locations and were closed all last week. So I got lost in town last Wednesday looking for that. Wednesday afternoon I contacted Michael Peterson, my Realtor in La Crosse, and arranged to look at houses on Friday afternoon.

We focused on midcentury modern, single-story bungalow/ranch house styles, but most of them had small bedrooms and even smaller baths. We checked out the storefront home, which was huge. I told Michael I would have to become a communist and live in it with two others families to use all that space. And there was two-story home, a 1938 Tudor on West St., in a neighborhood of swanky restored mansions from the turn of the last century. The street it's on is a busy one, but the house is close to downtown, and even though it didn't click off my boxes, it did have a really nice feel to it.

After an afternoon of looking at houses, I drove out to Ettrick, to Pam and Steve's, for pizza night. Amanda was there, but headed out to bartend at Beaches (a local watering spot in Ettrick). Emily stopped by for a time with her significant other, Jim, and we chatted about the places I'd seen and the process of remodeling after a home purchase. The pizza was very good, but I've already forgotten if we watched anything at all on the TV.

The afternoon had been cloudy, and by the time I left Ettrick, it was pitch black and rain had arrived in earnest. I had not driven the road from Ettrick back to Winona, and it was a real challenge to find the lines painted on the highway, but I made it home just fine.

Saturday was great weather (and we've had the same ever since), and Amanda took me driving around Winona, pointing out places of interest. We stopped into Betty Jo's, a downtown eatery, and I had the taco salad. We also visited Winona's award-winning donut bakery, the name of which I still can't pronounce, but all they had left was two rather sad-looking plain cake donuts. So it goes on the list of stuff I have still to do. Another first for Saturday was Patty's appearance in the kitchen while Amanda was present.

Sunday was a day of vegetation, and Amanda and I just sat around and visited and caught up. Natalie was spending the weekend with her dad, and after Amanda picked her up, the three of us went out for Sunday dinner. Another feline breakthrough: Patty and Natalie came face to face. Now Natalie thinks the cat is playing hide and seek, and I have to keep reminding her that she shouldn't go looking for the cat or it will never show itself to her. I'm not sure the message is getting through.

On Monday Michael and I continued house hunting. We saw a couple houses that would have been nice places, except they had full basements that had what I refer to as the Silence-of-the-Lambs syndrome: dark, dank spaces with dark dank cubbyholes of rooms, each branching off from the previous one, and each one creepier by exponential increments than the last.

The Tudor we had seen on Friday had stuck in my mind, and it was also the only property of the dozen or so that we looked at that had a "vibe" for me; it felt like a home and not a house for sale. After our Monday afternoon tour, I told Michael I wanted to put an offer in on the Tudor. And so we did.

The offer I made was on the low side, but still 90% of the asking price, so I didn't think it was insultingly low. Now the only thing to do was sit back and wait for acceptance or a counter; that made Tuesday the perfect day to go back out and visit with Steve, who was at home grading papers. My current cell provider has no service at all in Ettrick, so I couldn't obsess on whether or not something had come through from the seller. Pam got home from work, we visited a bit, then I left to return to Winona.

This evening, at about 9:30 our time, I got an e-mail from Michael with an attachment: the counter. The amount of the counter with within a few grand of a price I thought all could settle on, and I replied to Michael, saying we should accept the counter and get this process going.

So tomorrow I go into La Crosse and set up my local bank accounts, put down whatever monies are required to get the ball rolling and sign whatever papers needed to make this thing real.

If all goes well, escrow should be close between May 18-22 (it's flexible since the house is not currently occupied). The only contingency is the home inspection, which I think should go well, since I looked the place over fairly carefully and I saw almost nothing of concern to me. Then to get the movers in gear, bringing my stuff from California. Also, I have to purchase all-new appliances (budgeted already), so I'm going to have lots of fun shopping over the next couple weeks.

I figure it's about three weeks until normal living begins again, and there are still innumerable adjustments to be made. But this is the downhill side of this process, so I'm going to have fun with it.

The next move is figuring out what to do with the horrible-horrible carpet: a Victorian pink-rose motif on a black background. (I'm hoping there will be lovely 1938 hand-laid hardwood floors underneath. We shall find out.)

Pics to come once I actually take a few.

California Didn't Want to Let Go

This is a chronicle of leaving Pasadena and California behind.
It did not happen easily.
 

DAY ZERO:
Saying Goodbye to the material in Pasadena, Calif.

Camp chair and Aero bed are in the green truck, already full.

The move out for me was not simple nor tidy (but then, what significant thing in life is?) The movers from Pink Transfer were amazing (the name has nothing to do with gay rights; it's a family name and they've been at this for almost 100 years). I had told Brandon (fourth generation Pink) that there would probably be some unfinished packing, and they came equipped and manned to handle that. In five hours, the house was empty…almost.

One down side: they packed my folding camp chair and my Aero inflatable bed almost the first thing, so by the time I noticed, they had already filled two vaults. I shrugged and thought, "I'll sleep on the floor. What could one night hurt?" So I swept out the house and ran a wet Swiffer over the bamboo.

About 3 p.m., one of the new owners (they are a middle-aged gay couple) stopped by with their Realtor. The visit was scheduled, so there was no surprise, but he did ask if he could drop off some stuff and I said sure. Luckily, five of the items were four folding chairs and an inflatable bed. "We just bought this, so I have no idea how it works," he said. I thanked him profusely and looked forward to a better evening.

The empty living room.

They left about 45 minutes later, and I took the bed out of the bag directly, Luckily I believe in reading instructions, because I soon discovered that the transformer wasn't to power the motor, it was to charge the batteries inside the motor that had to be fully charged for a complete inflation. Unfortunately, the charging took more than 12 hours, so using the mattress was a moot point.

I still had all the packing for the trip and six bags of trash (ultimately) to clear out the place; three of those were filled with stuff that wouldn't fit into the car.

Patty had spent the entire day Friday hiding in the kitchen cabinet. When everyone finally left, she came out with the most uneasy look on her face. Empty house except for a few trash bags. That afternoon and evening, she watched me throw stuff in trash bags and put stuff in the luggage.

DAY ONE:
Pasadena, Calif. to Cedar City, Utah

Sleeping on the floor overnight was very uncomfortable, and it took a long time to work out the kinks. I crammed the car with everything I possibly could, but clothes and the cat's travel tube took up the lion's share of the space.

By the time I had carried the travel tube, litter box, food and water bowl down to the car and set up her luxurious travel space (including faux fur throw for a floor), she was back in the kitchen cabinet, eyes as big and scared as the day before. When I picked her up and tried to get her into her carrier, she freaked and simply refused to get in. I finally had to grab her by the scruff of the neck and stuff her unceremoniously into the carrier.

The idea is she would ride in the carrier between her travel tube and the motel rooms for overnighting. When we got to the car, she refused to leave the carrier. I was fed up with her shit (little was I to know this was only the beginning), so I just put the entire carrier into the tube, zipped it up and started out. (It took a bit of reflection, but I realized that she saw me stuffing things into bags and boxes and throwing things out. I'm sure she thought she was the next item to get tossed.)

First stop was the gas station. I pulled up to the pump but none of the buttons would work, so I went inside and stood in line while people bought lottery scratchers, candy bars and power drinks. Finally, I told the attendant about the problem and she just shrugged and said go to the pumps on the other side of the store. So I did. Result: it took about 30 minutes just to get gas and get onto the freeway. California was not making my exit simple nor easy.

This shot doesn't capture the intense glow of the towers.

Heading east from San Bernardino on the I-15, I quickly ran into an extensive construction zone that covered at least 20 miles. Patty, of course was howling all the while in her back-seat travel suite. Once past the construction, the freeway was posted for 70, 75 and 80 miles an hour. I've never driven to Las Vegas before, so I had never seen the solar power station outside of town: that was a sight to see. (It is mentioned in the movie "Bagdad Cafe"; worth watching, if for nothing other than the title song and CCH Pounder's amazing performance). This purloined pic doesn't do it justice, no matter how much I manipulated it in Photoshop.

Going through Vegas, there were two multiple-vehicle crashes within 10 miles of each other, and I seemed to arrive just after each had occurred. Once past them, the road opened up and traffic started to thin out. Heading east, the land was parched and desolate, but the rock formations as I came into Utah were stunning. I wish I had someone along with me to take pictures, but I can't stop for too long, as the distances and travel times are planned out to get optimum distance without driving me (so to speak) into the ground.

The other reason I have been unable to take photos during the trip is that I forgot my iPhone charger in Pasadena, so I have to save the battery: no photos and I only check it once a day for texts and phone calls. I do have the laptop with me (and the charger), so I can check my e-mails on a regular basis. I'm checking photos online for different places and will include them here when appropriate. But I'm sure the photos I might take would not do justice to the awe of this land I'm passing through (I have never been farther east than Barstow, so all the land is new to me).

My room marked with an X: view of the dumpsters
but steps from the car!

Heading east, we got into Cedar City, Utah, around 5:30 p.m. I am staying at Motel 6 where possible since their rooms have no places where a cat might slip into and become unavailable for insertion into the carrier the next morning.

I tried to find somewhere to order food that was not a pizzeria, but ended up ordering a pizza. I wanted to stay in the room with Patty, but I now realize that really doesn't mean much. She just finds a place and hides. The one upside to the room: a nice big tub and a really hot, hot bath to work some of the kinks out that come from sitting and driving for seven hours straight (with one stop to hobble out, gas the car and hydrate myself, as Patty has water in her travel tube).

By 11:30 I crashed and was deep asleep when Patty came up around 3 a.m. and wanted petting and affection. I gave her all the succor a semi-conscious person could and fell back asleep. When I woke up in the morning, she was sleeping under the covers at the foot of the bed (something she has never done before). I packed things back into the car, and getting her back into her carrier was not as difficult as the morning before. This time, I arranged the tube so she could get to her food and water and litter box with the carrier placed inside. While in the car, the carrier is a safe place for her—go figure.

DAY TWO:
Cedar City, Utah to Glenwood Springs, Colo.

My 8 a.m. call came at 8 a.m. My back was feeling better for the hot bath and the rest, but that wouldn't last. It would be another seven hours with my pelvis wedged into the driver's seat. Luckily, the traffic on the interstates is sparse, so I could do something I had never done in this car before: use the cruise control feature. Without having to maintain pressure on the gas pedal, the hours and hours of driving are almost tolerable. Crossing the incredible arid expanses of Nevada, Arizona and Utah, I wondered how the pioneers made it across without this modern feature.

I stopped at a place called Green River which was anything but. The corporate fill-up/fast food places recently built had killed off the little town that was there. It was a ghost town. A depressing thought. I would have filled up and gotten lunch in town, but none of the businesses were open. Heading east from Green River, I did cross a river, but it sure wasn't green.

These people really know how to deliver service.

The farther east I went, the larger and more impressive the rock formation got, until they finally gave way to mountains towering above the road as it wound through the canyons. First was the Colorado River, then the White River, and we stopped in Glenwood Springs, Colorado, a really beautiful town.

The reservations were at Ramada Inn and Clarissa, the woman at the front desk, was very helpful. Getting out of the car, my hips were stiff and sore. I hobbled into the room with Patty in the carrier and checked things out to make sure she couldn't find anyplace to hide. Just when I thought it was okay, she made a bee line for the convertible sofa. I thought the legs were too short for her, but she managed to squeeze half herself underneath.

I flipped the whole sofa forward, grabbed the cat and stuffed her into the bathroom and closed the door. I called Clarissa and asked if we could remove the sofa or, if not, at least take off the legs so there was no cat access. She came down to the room. She brought housekeeping in, but no one had a screwdriver long enough to reach the screws. Clarissa said the maintenance guy was coming in at 6 p.m., so I said the cat could cool here heels behind the toilet until then.

Really good Chinese capped a crazy check-in.

Juan the maintenance buy showed up to remove the sofa legs, unaware there was someone in the room. He walked in and was all apologetic. I was overjoyed to see him. After some jiggering, he got the legs off, I tipped him with profuse thanks, and Patty finally got out of the bathroom. After about 30 minutes of searching for hiding places, she returned to behind the toilet as her safe place. Go figure.

Dinner consisted of Chinese appetizers (egg roll and crab wonton) and beef with broccoli. They sent steamed brown rice without having to ask. I spent some time working on the blog and by the time I was done, there was a cat-shaped lump under the spread.

I was in bed around 11 p.m. and  reminded myself that we had to start early the next day, since the leg from Glenwood Springs to Kearney was longer than the day before. And, once again, early in the morning, Patty woke me up to get some affection and reassurance.

DAY THREE:
Glenwood Springs, Colo. to Kearney, Neb.

You always forget one thing. After packing up cat and car and dropping off my key card at the front desk, I hit the road at what I thought was just before 9 a.m. Gee, I was making good time. It wasn't until I was about 60 miles out from Glenwood Springs, heading every higher into the Rockies, that I realized I wasn't wearing my dental partial.

Since dental work isn't the kind of thing you can pop into the mail and receive a week later, I turned back to Glenwood Springs to retrieve my dentition. Oddly enough, it added just the extra mileage I needed to make the entire trip exactly 2,000 miles.

One more time heading out, and I realize how important having been over a road, even if only once, is to my relaxation levels. Also, I was getting good at plunging at 75 mph down unknown highways, reveling in the space on the road and the epic landscapes that unfold around every turn.

The mountains got higher and more rugged as I headed east, and the uphill inclines seemed interminable. Here on day three, I think Patty had developed the MO of yowling when the car started moving and then falling asleep and snoozing through most of the bouncing and jostling.

At a certain point, patches of snow appeared on the ground, then slush by the sides of the road. When I hit the town of Vail, the patches turned into steep mountains covered in white, even though it was in the 40s outside. When I reached the summit, there was snow was actively falling, blowing across the road surface, with near-whiteout conditions at one point it was. I was not expecting this.

"You're crossing the Continental Divide, Bozo," I thought to myself. "Of course you're going to run into something dramatic." Once we surmounted Vail Summit and began to descend, this unexpected winter began to break up a little, and old slush could be detected at the sides of the highway.

And through all of this, there was construction work. I think Colorado must be taking all of that pot tax money and putting it into the interstates, because I didn't go 50 miles without running into at least one fairly disruptive work project. And the worst of them always seemed to come right where I was making a vital transition from one roadway to another.

A teeny slice of vastness doesn't convey the vastiosity.

Once out of Denver, though, I began the long and lonely experience of Interstate 80 east of the Rockies and the flat foreverness of the Great Plains. Two lanes, absolutely straight, perhaps a half dozen cars in a mile's worth of highway, all going 75 mph, with an occasional semi or RV to pass; it's enough to put you to sleep, and that monotony and boredom became my major enemy on the drive.

But the sky: the clouds filled the whole sky like I'd never seen before. With no obstructions or pollutants clear down to the horizon, it was a blue heaven filled with well-spaced stratocumulus clouds (beautiful but with a hint of thunder storm in them). Nothing could capture the expanse of weather I was viewing, but I know now why they use the word "canopy" to describe the sky.

Midwest mundane Motel 6.

We hit Kearney about 7 p.m., checked in and I ordered Chinese once again, but central Nebraska Chinese doesn't hold a candle to Colorado vacation mecca Chinese. The orange chicken had chicken in it and the egg roll was rolled, but that's about all that can be said for it.

We were once again in a Motel 6, so I only found two hidey holes to be plugged before Patty had the run of the place. She ended up, of course, under the covers.

At about this point, I was beginning to unravel. My senses took on a existential quality, and there were times when my conciousness felt flayed and splayed from moment to moment, as though I could not find any continuity to my own thoughts. My sensibilities were getting worn to a nub.

One more day, I told myself. For God's sake, only one more day, I told Patty. Dear Lord, just get me through tomorrow's drive, please, and let me find my safe harbor with Amanda in Winona.

DAY FOUR:
Kearney, Neb. to Winona, Minn.

In Kearney, I slept and extra hour before leaving. I'm still not sure whether that was a good idea or not, but I wanted to be as rested as possible for this last day of travel. Repacking what little I had removed from the suitcase took only minutes, and the "portable" (read "disposable") litter box I had purchased for motel room use I simply left behind, along with a nice tip for an overnighter.

Patty was dutifully under the bed spread awaiting her fate. I popped her into the carrier with almost no resistance at all, got the carrier into the travel tube, and we were on our way. The journey would end today, but it would feel far from finite until I actually located Amanda's apartment in Winona (actually, in Goodview, which is the northeast end of the Winona area). My brother Steve (her father) had driven me there last year. It was still cold and snowy, and I just remember thinking how convoluted the drive had been.

I spent some of the prior night going over my trip maps (I had made one for each leg of the journey with the help of Google maps) and discovered a simplified route from the I-90 East into Winona proper, and it dumped me within a couple blocks of her place. So I changed plans, hoping that the maps I was seeing were accurate.

I got back onto the I-80, always heading east. After a few hours, I came into Des Moines and took the route Google had suggested. I would be heading up the I-35 north to Minnesota, but Google took me onto the I-235, which skirts the city and downtown traffic, then meets up with the I-35. And even though the traffic flow was excellent, I still ran into roadwork, on and off, for about 15 miles.

Once on the I-35, there was a terrific sheer wind from the west that buffeted the car around. It's two lanes each way, and nearly half of the vehicles on the road are semis and RVs, some pulling trailers of their own. The speed limit is 75, which means the high-profile vehicles are going a few miles per hour slower than the cars.

After a while, the big boys would all clump up together, and when they passed one another, it would take sometimes five minutes to clear the "fast" lane; then the cars would pass, also going barely faster than the vehicles they were passing. At several points, when it came my turn to pass, I would punch it, pass everyone at 80 or 85 (clearing myself out of the glob of vehicles) and break free of the pack of cars.

The I-35 kept going. And going. And going. The road signs showing distances only had two names on them: the first was distance to the very next town, and the second was alternately Minneapolis or St. Paul. No where in hundreds of miles of driving did I see mention of the I-90 East, which was my next move. And none would be forthcoming until we were within three miles of the interchange.

A shot of the Goodview tower, © Corey Coyle

Merging with the I-90 East turned the sheer wind into a tailwind. There was another hour of driving left, at least, so I settled in and looked for my new route. But deep inside I was getting more and more concerned about how to get from the interstate to the county roads. And it started snowing. Not heavily, but it was snow; not freezing rain, not tiny hail, but little fluffy flakes that skittered across the road in the wind and then melted.

I found the turnoff for County Road 29, headed north to Lewiston, then east on 14 to Winona. As I went, the snow turned to rain, then dissipated altogether.

After having studied the Google maps of the area, it was easy to find Amanda's place. My only hesitation was that she would not be at home. She had taped the front-door key to the back of her recycling bin. I figured if I didn't find a key, I was rummaging around on some stranger's porch and would probably be arrested in short order.

But the key was there. It fit the lock. Exhausted and in moderate pain, I got the essentials in from the car: the cat in her carrier, my bags and important papers. Once inside, I let Patty out of her carrier and let her find every hidey hole in the place.

We had made it. No more carrier for her nibs until the move into La Crosse.

Epilogue

I was asleep by 9:30 p.m. I awoke slightly around 6:30 by the sound of Amanda taking a shower before work. By the time half of the thought "I should wake up and say hello" went through my head, I was back asleep. She apologized later for making so much noise making a smoothie in the blender. "What blender?" I replied.

I woke up about noon and checked out some immediate needs: I had to find a place to purchase a new charger for my iPhone, and I wanted to find a place that could wash and detail the car. I also thought I might stop by some popular eatery and have lunch.

I ended up getting lost, finally finding Main Street (the far end, it turns out). I got stuck at a railroad crossing by a long-long-long train. It had stopped, and there were only four cars that hadn't cleared the crossing. After about 20 minutes of waiting, the train moved on and so did I.

I found downtown, but couldn't locate the computer store, so I headed back in the direction I thought would be home. I ended up finding Winona Lake (or is it Lake Winona?) and I knew one of the main drags out of town was nearby. I found a Subway sandwich shop (with an automated self-order drive-thru, no less) and got some sustenance.

Amanda and Natalie showed up around 3 p.m. and stayed for an hour or so, then Amanda went to drop Natalie off at her dad's for the weekend, then she went to the Beaches, a bar in Ettrick where she bartends part time.

Patty meets Natalie's furniture.

In the evening, Patty came out of hiding and searched the house some more. She definitely approves of it: with furniture choice, as well as the style. And she snuggled up to me and snoozed the evening away. I joined her late, about 2:30 a.m.

Amanda was home and sleeping in Natalie's bed when I got up at 10:15.

Today I drove downtown and found the computer store…or at least where they had been. The sign said they were opening in a new location two blocks over, but they were closed this week for the move. Undaunted, I found a Radio Shack (right next to the HyVee supermarket), scored my charger, stopped into the market for some food for tonight and tomorrow morning.

Tomorrow afternoon my Realtor Michael has some properties to show my in La Crosse, then it's pizza night in Ettrick with Steve and Pam.

The trees are just starting to bud ("…there is a growing consensus among the trees that it’s spring," writes my brother Steve in an e-mail. "Except the really big ones, who are not yet convinced"). There were robins picking worms out of the front lawn this morning. One of the reasons I moved here: seasons.

Reading this over, I realize that I keep switching between first person singular and first person plural in describing the last week's happenings. A lot of that can be attributed to "we" being myself and the cat, some to the imperial "we."

My beloved passenger.

But there was also a third entity in the car: A shiny box with Steve's cremains in it. He rode on the passenger's side up front with me, just under his favorite wall clock. It's appropriate that I switch between the singular and plural, because it's what's happening emotionally right now. "Our home" is gone now. "My home" is the next step. But he's always with me. His birthplace of Coshocton, Ohio, is about an 11-hour drive from here. Perhaps someday soon I'll take him home and spread his ashes in the Mushkingum River. I'm in no hurry, and neither is he.

This journey, after all, began on Oct. 13, 2013, when he left me behind, through no fault of his own. I think he'd be proud of me for the decisions I've made.  And me, I'm feeling pretty good for being homeless. I'm just starting to realize what a new beginning this is going to be, because it's begun.

Ticking Down to the Departure

Jessie waits for her shake.

The past week has been a blur. Last Wednesday, Thursday and Friday was packing here and there, organizing things just to have them fall back into disarray. And Friday evening, Jessie came up from Irvine to overnight and help me out with packing the office on Saturday. When she arrived, I discovered that she had just gotten fired from her job … and couldn't feel better about it. In fact, it was what she'd wanted for the last few months. Today she texted that she has a new writing gig (something she's been pining for every since she returned stateside from her teaching job in Myanmar).

Andy's vintage
milkshake machine.

Saturday morning we headed out to Andy's for a last breakfast there. Jessie ordered a milkshake with her breakfast, since she loves their shakes. I thought it was kind of weird, but helped her finish it. After, we picked up some boxes from the Box Store and dropped off the last of the donations at Out of the Closet, then headed back home to get on with packing the office.

I mug for Jessie.

I was really glad that she was with me when going through the office, since there were a lot of books and other such heavy things that I was on the fence about keeping and shipping, and they ended up getting tossed because I never used or read them. It was also a chance to glean important papers from the piles that had accumulated over the last month.

I've taken the low-stress approach to packing, so we spent as much time visiting and shooting the breeze as we did packing. After all, it was more important to me to visit with a great friend for the last time for a while. I keep telling everyone that I will probably be out to visit sometime during the first winter, since I expect that's when I'll be most nostalgic for California winters.

Jessie left about 4:30 in the afternoon, and I set about more packing. Sunday was a lazy day for me, and although I got a couple boxes packed, it was not a marathon by any means.

Monday was taken up almost exclusively by doing my taxes. I know, I know, I should have done them a month ago (Steve and I usually had them done by the end of February), but I avoided them. So, for the first time in my life, I left everything until the last minute. When they were done, I patted myself on the back and called my sister Kittie (who is a tax specialist) to share the experience.

Tuesday, I took the car in for servicing and a general check up: it passed with flying colors, so hopefully no breakdowns or blowups on the road to Winona. I got some good walking in, since I had to take the bus to and from Mitch's Auto (best auto mechanic in Pasadena!). In between, I was home, sorting out important papers for myself and the buyers. I just hope nothing imminently necessary to my life got packed in the office, since I won't be seeing it for at least three months.

Today started with the post office, dropping off the money-owed check for the federal return, and sending in my state return via mail, as there was some snafu that kept Turbotax from e-filing.The rest of the day has been more packing. I've finally run out of boxes and had to dip into the 10 boxes we bought on Saturday. Luckily, there's still plenty of packing tape, bubble wrap and newsprint to accommodate the final items in the kitchen, office and bedroom. Also this afternoon, I have been getting everything in a row: forwarding address for the business, canceling home and earthquake insurance policies, and paying the auto insurance. I still have to request a final billing for the gas and electricity (water and trash are included in the HOA fees here) and let Social Security know of the move.

The biggest unknown left is what clothes get packed and what items go with me. It will probably be midsummer before I move into a new place and have access to everything in storage, so I'm pretty much taking everything that fits, since I wear it all. Extra pairs of shoes and specialty items will probably end up being stored, while everyday wear I'll wear…well…every day.

Riding over the 210 freeway on the bus, the traffic was something I seemed to have really seen for the first time. It was cluttered and ugly, all crawling cars and fumes. I will be happy to leave that. Later in the evening, police sirens howling down the street and helicopters circling overhead. I would not miss that, either.

My life in Californian is pretty much over. My design career is in semiretirement. I have no idea what the next few months holds in store for me, but I'm really looking forward to it. And, until Friday morning, I am going to be in a mild panic over getting everything done. And when Friday has come and gone, it's going to be an interesting Saturday morning. I'm hoping one of the new buyers will be able to let me out of the garage and the gate.

On the road I will be stopping in Cedar City, Utah; Glenwood Springs, Colorado; and Kerney, Nebraska, arriving at Amanda's place next Tuesday evening. I've never driven this distance by myself before, but I think the biggest obstacle will be sheer boredom, driving for hours and hours, only to stop and collapse for the night, regroup in the morning and continue on.

If I can get wifi connections on the road, I may be posting here during the trip. If not, I will have a nice long entry to make once I get to Winona.

Wish me luck!

Little by Little, Bit by Bit

Cat as giraffe with nandina.

It's been a weird week or so since the last blog entry. First, the weather soared into the 90s, then dipped down as a "storm" passed through, dropping a fraction of an inch of precipitation on the Southland. God is very sadistic to do that.

Kitty nose moles are no more.

Patty went to the vets, where all her vaccinations were updated and she was microchipped. They also removed the two little black bumps on her nose. The day after the visit, she was kind of sluggish from the vaccines, and I could tell she was a little pissed off. She bounced back some on the second day, and the third day she was pretty much back to normal.

Totally empty!

One of the things Patty loves is to go out onto the patio and hang out with me. She also has taken to eating the plants out there. The spider plant (which isn't toxic) makes her throw up, but the nandina, which she started eating, is extremely toxic, so I keep an eye out because she loves playing giraffe, stretching up to get to the tender leaves. She's so smart, one or two admonitions and she stopped jones-ing after all the leafy green.

More totally empty!

Getting her into the cat carrier was pretty straightforward, kind of a dry run for the trip to Wisconsin. She did yowl as I put her in the car, but by the time we were at the vets, she had calmed down, so I'm hoping she will adapt to the four days of driving ahead of us next week.

And yet more totally empty!

Other activities of the last week have focused on deconstructing the house; emptying out cupboards and drawers, packing, packing, packing and trashing, trashing, trashing. On Tuesday, Cousin Robin came over to help me with the kitchen, which I had been avoiding: what do I pack, what do I leave until the last day?

Robin is beauty among the chaos.

Between her expertise and experience in packing kitchens and my knowledge of what's in the cupboards, we got a half dozen boxes packed. And, as you can see from the photos, the results were a lot of empty cupboards. As of today, the pantry is the only thing not packed, and I plan on donating all the canned goods, etc., to the local food bank.

The upshot of the process: the downstairs is practically packed and ready to go. But it doesn't feel like a lot has gotten done, because the stuff went from hiding in the cupboards to hiding in packing boxes. So the house looks really messy and, beyond the boxes, there is little indication of the work that's been done.

Staging stuff to pack (boxes in corner).

One thing I realized just the other day was that I had to do all the laundry over the next few days or I'd be packing dirty linen and towels. Being a big fan of "surgical" laundry loads (washing just what you need for the next couple days or so), I have to bite the bullet and dig out everything that needs washing. One more sweep upstairs and I'll be on my way to having everything ready for packing.

Realtor Jan called me last night to say the buyers wanted to move closing to Tuesday instead of Monday; that way, they won't have to pay interest on their loan over the weekend before close. Whatever. As long as the money's in my bank next week, I'll be happy.

Another assist is arriving tomorrow (Friday) evening in the form of Jessie, who will be overnighting and hanging out on Saturday. I'm hoping to get the donations together (very few) and drop them off at Out of the Closet (our AIDS thrift store chain here in L.A.) after we have breakfast at Andy's for one last time.

There's nine days to go. It just doesn't seem real to me, somehow. I just know that, a week from tomorrow morning, the movers will be here to clear out the house. The only thing left will be the Aero bed, a couple blankets, the cat carrier, my luggage and Steve's leftovers box. Then, get in the car and begin to drive.

Three things will make this seem real: seeing the equity sitting in my bank account, canceling the utilities in my name, and handing over the keys and remotes to the house, which will happen on Saturday morning when the car is packed and gassed and ready to go.

I'm getting such an ick (a cute name for anxiety). When Robin was here, I told her what my dad told me once: anxiety is just excitement that you're not letting out. You repress that explosive feeling and it turns into something very uncomfortable, like holding back an aggressive fart. It's always made sense to me. I'm genuinely excited by the notion of this trip, this major change in my life, but my dread of moving makes me sit on the emotion, resulting in icks.

I think I need a drink. All the liquor glasses are packed, so it's a juice glass or straight out of the bottle.

More later.

To There and Back Again

The last ten days have been full of highs and lows, gnashing of teeth and general rejoicing. I'm ready for a nervous breakdown, but I just don't have the time to schedule one right now.

The weekend trip to the Central Coast was interesting. First, the traffic was horrible; stop and crawl from my house in Pasadena all the way up to Santa Barbara. It took me over three hours to go just 100 miles. When I got to Santa Barbara, there was a temporary road sign flashing, "U.S. 101 closed ahead at 246. Take Highway 1 as detour." Since I couldn't remember which highway 246 was (it's the exit to Lompoc), I stopped to check out the situation and to get a bite to eat.

It seems there was a gentleman who had barricaded himself in his home. He was armed and his home was near enough to the freeway that Highway Patrol decided to close it down from the Lompoc turnoff all the way to Orcutt, which is just south of Santa Maria. I decided not to rush my lunch.

I headed off north, and by the time I got to the Lompoc turnoff, Caltrans and the CHP were busy breaking down cone barriers. Another temporary sign flashed on the shoulder: "101 OPEN." I let out a sigh of relief and hit the gas.

By the time I got into my motel room, it was after 6 in the evening. I called Kittie and David around 7 p.m. (Kittie's working late, as it's tax season) and let them know I was just going unwind, get some rest, and I would see them tomorrow.

Saturday, I dropped in on David, who was home working on one of his VW bugs. There was a car show the next day, and he was prepping. We hung out a while. He checked the fluids in my car, since I  had had a weird episode on the highway where it seemed the car lost power, but the engine was still running.

At two o'clock I headed out to Vena's place. She had an old friend with her, a guy named Richard, who was drinking in earnest when I arrived. We sat and chatted for a while, and Vena and I got on our  favorite subject—deceased spouses—and Richard seemed to resent being left out of the conversation.

Kittie was spending the day at work, of course, and about four o'clock she called, having gotten off of work, and suggested she and David join us and we could all go to dinner. Vena was adamant that she wanted Japanese. Richard kept grousing, wanting to go to more of a steakhouse.

It dawned on me that he was shooting for a nice meal for which someone else was going to pay. When David and Kittie arrived, it became clear to Kittie at once what was going on. Vena and Richard were going in David and Kittie's car. On the ride to the restaurant, Kittie made it clear that everyone was paying for their own dinner. Richard ended up getting a bowl of Udon noodles and scarfing up his share of the appetizers Kittie and I ordered.

After dinner, I headed back to the motel and settled in for the evening.

The next day, at 2 p.m., a get-together was planned for Sandy Beck's house in San Luis Obispo. This was a chance to say goodbye to my friends on the Central Coast. It was not everyone I knew, but it was a chance to bid farewell. It was quite cathartic for me, and made the move seem more real.

Jeff and Sandy before the Christmas tree
that has been up since 2013.

Over the weekend, I started getting e-mails from Realtor Jan about questions the buyers had put forth about the HOA. I answered what I could, but the sticking point seemed to be a document referred to as the Reserve Study, which basically lists what maintenance the HOA expects to do on the complex and when, and how they plan to pay for it.

I'd never heard of this, and we obviously didn't have one, which is a tiny bit illegal, but Jan assured me that it is something many small HOAs don't do, even though they should. She never saw this as being a sticking point on a sale before. So there was back-and-forth e-mails (all having to go through the Realtors, of course), and Jan at one point said something about having the back-up contingency offer and all of a sudden I saw the sale falling through.

All kinds of crap flashed before my eyes: The contingency falls through, we have to put the house back on the market, I end up getting $40,000 less than I thought. At some point, I run out of money and end up in a shopping cart on the streets.

Yes, I freaked out behind this good. I stopped packing. I stopped scheduling things (like the movers) until I knew exactly where this was going. Then, on Friday, Jan e-mailed with the news that the buyers had signed off on their contingencies, and escrow was on.

I spent the weekend sort of puttering-packing. All of the organized packing has been done. Now is when I go through drawers for a final time and pack the stuff of toss it.

So today I'm scheduling the next two weeks, right after I finish this entry.

I so so so so so so so so want this whole thing to be over with now.

Yeah, I know; give it a couple weeks.

Twenty-five, then Thirty to Go

Twenty-five days until escrow closes. Thirty days until my move-out period ends. Then it's just me and the cat and the car. I'm feeling good about this, but my heart hesitates over the ease with which we will survive this cross-country trip.

I can't seem to get to the packing in earnest. Every time I turn around there is another person showing up to inspect the house. This morning it was the appraisal inspection (the buyers are taking out a small mortgage on the house), and tomorrow morning is the termite inspection (which should have happened on Tuesday morning, but they never showed up: Terminix. Gotta love 'em. We're using Jan's guy this time). I think tomorrow will be the last of them, and we can slide quietly to the end of escrow.

This weekend I'm heading up the coast for my farewell visit to San Luis Obispo County. In a completely selfish way, I'm feeling like this is a waste of three days and several hundred dollars, but I think that's dad talking in my head. He never liked going anywhere, and taking vacations was like pulling teeth with him. And the part of me that dragged its feet on getting the house onto the market and sold is still in force (also vestigial dad), wanting to simply sit in the house and sort and pack until the new owners kick me out.

I think this weekend will be cathartic, as it is really saying goodbye to many of these people. I will not see them again unless they visit or I visit, and some of them are old enough that those scenarios are unlikely to occur before one of us dies. I have promised to fly Kittie and David out to Wisconsin for a visit as thanks for all the help and support they've supplied over the last year and a half. And I'm sure I'll take at least one trip back out to the Coast, if only to take a break from winter.

A year and a half: it's hard to imagine it was that long ago that Steve died. Or that it was a year ago I traveled around the country, visiting places that might be my new home, staying with all those folks Steve and I said we would visit. In that sense, it was also a kind of a pilgrimage, although I didn't realize it at the time.

We had rain yesterday here in Pasadena, with one or two downpours and one or two thunderclaps. But it will do nothing to mitigate the drought. Possibly 0.3" total; just enough to mess up the patio. Then came the humidity, as it was also 80º in the afternoon. The climate is certainly not trying to lull me into staying. I'm leaving the state just in time to avoid showering while standing in two five-gallon buckets, saving the effluence of my ablutions to flush the toilets and water the plants.

The cross-country drive ahead seems a great insurmountable wall before me. Then I think about those who rode the dirt trails from the Midwest to the Pacific, and I don't feel so bad about my four-day, climate-controlled drive with a V6 and automatic everything. And with the Google Maps mobile app, it's near impossible to get lost.

I have two routes sketched out: the shorter one to the north—going through Utah and Colorado—and the longer one (by 500 miles) through New Mexico and Texas, in case there's a last-minute freeze on the northern route. Going north means four days of driving about 8 hours a day. The southern route means driving 11 to 12 hours a day. I'm thinking of the cat here, trying to keep the travel days down to a minimum. I'm thinking go north and to hell with it.

It's nice to know that the movers will be here to catch any loose ends I don't get. It will be a great luxury to have a crew of four guys here for an entire day, moving out everything and heading it to storage. I'm still at a loss of what to do with the cat on move-out day; just stow her in the car in the tube for the day, or let her hide in her hidey hole until everyone leaves. I can deal with sleeping on the air mattress for one night before heading out on our sojourn to the Midwest.

All the household bills (including mortgage and line of credit) are paid up through April, so my financial obligations to the house are paid through escrow. How very odd to be closing up the home I shared with Steve for so many years. The whole place will be pared down to what can fit into the trunk of the car and the passenger's seat (the back seat being filled with the cat tube). I could write a "travels with" book, except it would be very boring.

I've got this big ol' scab on my psyche and I've been really good about not picking at it. In the last month or so, it's really been itching, but I'm letting it slough off of its own accord. That will happen at some point when I'm unpacking all these boxes in the new structure I'll call home. There'll be a scar, for sure, to commemorate the trauma, but I will be whole and functional and slightly wiser after the fact.

The Last Detail: Part II

And now the second half…

Kittie and David came down for the weekend. Even though it's tax season, Kittie didn't have to work on Saturday, so she called on Wednesday and suggested they come down for the weekend. I couldn't have been happier. Finally, we could spend a weekend without the house/the move/the sale/the packing being a reason for their being here. It was nice to have a weekend with them without any chores or deadlines to be done or met.

Friday morning, Brandon Pink (fourth generation of Pink Transfer) stopped by to take inventory of the house and put together a quote for the pack and moveout from this house to storage in Monrovia, then a quote for the cross-country move to La Crosse. He sent the quotes later the in afternoon, and everything was falling well within (and below) my budgeted moving costs.

Kittie and David arrived, as usual, late Friday evening. We had some time to chat and watch a "Fringe" episode (the second of the first season; I'm trying to get them hooked on watching streaming Netflix) before hitting the sack.

Jan had called earlier on Friday to ask if she could stop by over the weekend and have me sign the escrow papers, as well as counter the requests from the home inspection. The only requests the buyers had was to 1) provide $100 to clear the drain hose from the dishwasher, and that I replace the water heater (which is really old). I countered, offering an $1,100 credit to them to get these things fixed. I figured that amount would allow them to put in a new water heater (of their choosing, not mine), with enough left over to purchase a new dishwasher, which is really the best remedy.

I told Jan to drop by on Saturday afternoon and we could finish the paperwork. "Just give a call when you're ready to come over," I said.

Saturday morning started slowly, which is the way to start the weekend. After some coffee, we headed off to Andy's for breakfast, stopping off for some groceries on the way home. Kittie brought some huge, perfectly ripe strawberries from Grover Beach, so we got some of those sponge cake cups and a can of whipped cream. Also, since it was pi day (3.14.15), we picked up an apple pie to celebrate the date.

About 2:30 or 3:00, Jan came over with a stack of papers about two inches high. There was lots of signing and initialing and reading and explanations, but we got through all the paperwork, and she was on her way.

I had e-mailed Robin and Evan to let them know Kittie and David were here for the weekend, and inviting them to come over, visit, and see the remodeled house. After Jan left, David decided to take a walk down to Ralph's to get a couple things we forgot earlier in the day.

While David was gone, Robin called to say she and Evan were coming over in a bit. They had both been working like crazy all week, and they were going to make Saturday evening a date night. Also, Robin was scheduled for her big steak, which she has once a year (usually consumed on her birthday, but there was some reason for her to have it tonight).

They showed up about an hour later, and we all visited for about an hour, during which Evan was looking for a good place in town to buy a really good steak for his wife. I suggested the Arroyo Chop House or Parkway Grill, both excellent steakhouse restaurants. They chose Arroyo Chop House, testing later in the evening and raving about how great the food was.

I do a Peeping Tom of Kittie and David from the patio.

The rest of the evening was kicked back: Kittie put together some spaghetti with meat sauce, along with a salad, then we had apple pie, then we had strawberry shortcake. Then more pie. We watched three more episodes of "Fringe," and I think I have Kittie hooked.

Sunday morning we had cinnamon rolls and scrambled eggs, sat around with our devices (two iPhones and an iPad). I showed them a couple of the houses I was looking at in La Crosse, saying I hoped they didn't sell before I had a chance to look at (and possibly purchase) them.

We did have one chore for the weekend, which was emptying out the stuff from the downstairs closet for packing, and David put together the last four empty boxes from the Box Store. We got all the boxed items and flotsam out of the closet and spread out on the dining room table. Once achieved, we all sat and visited just a little longer, not really wanting the weekend to be over.

Kittie and David hit the road around 2:00 in the afternoon, leaving me with this large pile of things to sort/pack/chuck out. True to form, I took a short nap before tackling the pile, and then came up to the office to write this entry before starting in.

The office I'm going to have to wade through myself. Robin has promised to help me packing up the kitchen, which is going to be the biggest task left before moving out (if you don't count training the cat to ride in the car without freaking out. I have a schedule of acclimating her to being in her tube, then being in the car, then riding in the car. It will take about two weeks and hopefully will keep her from going off the deep end into some twisted kitty psychosis because of the four-day, cross-country sojourn.

So the deconstruction of the household is going well.

A definite corner has been turned. The world only spins forward. Excitement builds at what is ahead of me. I am strong and can meet this, merge with the flow and move on.

Tomorrow is the termite inspection, hopefully the last inspection to go through. Since the HOA has a monthly termite inspection and treatment, I'm not too worried about this one.